Category Archives: dream a little dream

NOTE TO SELF: Pizza at 2:00 AM is never a good idea.

I had a seriously crazy dream last night involving:

  • an old high school boyfriend
  • Neil Diamond
  • toe rings
  • a de-aged brother-in-law
  • high school marching band

I can’t even begin to explain all of it, but I will say that Neil Diamond had taken a page out of Jane Seymour’s book and started his own line of jewelry called “Diamond Love”, and the father of a friend of mine had surprised his wife with His/Her toe rings from this collection for their wedding anniversary.

It was sausage pizza, by the way. That always seems to be the riskiest topping for midnight pizza snacks.


BratzBasher’s Birthday Bonanza!

Okay, there is no actual event we can really refer to as a “bonanza”, but it’s alliterative, people! Alliterative! Work with me.

BB turned 17 last week. I didn’t even partially freak out until early evening of that day (and even then it was only a minor, partial freak out) because, for some reason, my subconscious had tricked me into believing it was her 16th. Yes, I believed I was celebrating my daughter’s 16th birthday. Again. Well, I didn’t realize the “again” part until she pointed out how old she actually was (luckily before I made the mistake of asking her how it felt to be 16 -phew!) and voiced her hope that I wouldn’t freak out about how close she was to 18.

Anyway…as late as this is, I’m still making a valiant effort to publicly recognize my child’s natal anniversary with a fun post that revolves entirely mostly around her. I have chosen to do so by relating a recent dream she shared with me. It was actually a nightmare; however, as with most nightmares, daylight revealed it to be remarkably silly.

At the start of BB’s dream, she noticed people leaving fliers/pamphlets on people’s doors. It was propaganda designed to trick people into believing they should be happy about being confined to their homes:

“Ever get tired of looking at the same blue sky day after day? Well, now you don’t have to!”

BB quickly saw through this scheme and started trying to warn everyone that they were being controlled. Next thing she knew, men were trying to kill me by breaking my bedroom window in with a bola made from two large rocks connected by a chain. BB stuck tree branches in their eyes and chased them into the new subdivision adjoining our neighborhood. How they got that far while blind I have no idea. Who were these men? H&R Block employees. Yes, folks, the country was suffering a violent take-over by an accounting firm. At one point, BB attempted to spy on the opposition by making herself invisible. The baddies tried to find her by bringing out black lights. “You can’t hide from us!” they cried. “We know you have to be wearing a bra!” Apparently, the assumption was that BB was wearing a white bra that would show through her shirt in the black light, despite her being invisible. Yeah. Right.

After their initial plans were thwarted by BB, the accountants outsourced to Isengard, calling in orc soldiers to round up civilians and imprison them in their own homes. Some of the orcs bore the mark of Saruman (the white hand) on their faces, while others sported the same white hand on a square background of orange (the new logo for H&R Block). BB was facing an army of warriors created for evil. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether or not it was fortunate that she woke up at that moment before she could meet them in battle.

When BB told Merkin she’d dreamed of H&R Block taking over the country, he just said, “That’s not as far-fetched as you might think.”

BB’s been having elaborate, bizarre dreams since she was four — at least the ones she’s been able to remember and talk about. Obviously, she takes after me, but I think the part of her mind that chose an accounting firm to fill the role of “enemy forces” must have come from her daddy. Not that he views accountants as the enemy. No, it’s because he works in the finance department and knows all about money. BB has heard many stories of how bad financial management can enslave people.

I love you, BratzBasher! You are disturbingly creative and made of awesome!

mark of H&R Block


like mother, like daughter

BratzBasher had a dream the other night.  I don’t remember all of what she told me about it, but there was a part when she had to go down in a sort of elevator and meet with Death, who demanded she pay a tithe in fabric.  This was a regular occurrence in the dream, but she was surprised one day to find that Death was not waiting for her.  Then she heard a flush, and he later came hurrying into the room.  I hope he washed his hands.  Here is a picture she did on the computer, inspired by her dream:

potty... of DEATH!

Click on the image for an enlarged view.  The script is worth the trouble.


No more anchovy pizza before bed.*

I spent a couple of weeks in CA this month, but I’m back now.  I had a fun visit.  I got to see the house my dad is buying, attend a play, view some famous artwork at the Norton Simon Museum, and see friends and family.

My stepmom wanted to send one of their cats home with me.  Apparently, I spoiled him by letting him sleep with me.  When I was late coming home one night, he wouldn’t leave her and my dad alone.  Poor kitty.  All lonely.  But Merkin is allergic, and I really don’t want to take care of a cat.  They’re nice to visit, though.

I have to admit that I missed my own bed.  I think the mattress in Dad’s guest room is a bit sloped.

I had the luxury of non-stop flights both directions, and I managed to sleep most of the way.  I wonder if I should’ve apologized to the other passengers for snoring.

Shall I tell y’all about the weird dream I had this morning?  It’s one of my more bizarre nightmares…daymares…whatever you call the dream you dream just before you wake up in the morning.

 

In my dream, I discovered that Merkin was keeping food in a huge storage room.  There were aisles of shelves full of food, and I was pretty certain that it was all past the expiration date.  While I was exploring the room — which was really more of a small warehouse — I looked up and saw two lobsters on a top shelf.  They were sort of a cross between lobsters and praying mantises, and they were eating long, fat noodles.  You know, pasta.  No sauce, though.  I said to Merkin, “Do you know that there are lobsters up there eating noodles?” and he said, “Well, I should hope so.”

Anyway…I wandered around to the other side of that aisle and discovered that there was a tank for the lobsters.  There were only the two, but they could fly around and in and out of the tank.  It was huge, and it was connected to another larger tank.  The second tank had considerably more in it because a family (one that we know in real life) was living in it.  They were all in there in a little, underwater house.  There was some kind of weird creature that was chained up in their “front yard” like a dog.  I don’t really remember what it looked like, but I remember it was as tall as their house.

Then the two lobsters flew back into the first tank and proceeded to enter the second tank through a hole in the connecting wall.  They began fighting with the tall creature, and the family’s oldest son got too close and was killed.  It was quite awful.  I grabbed BratzBasher and ran for the safety of the house (which, of course, looked nothing like any house I’ve ever been in).

Once we got inside, the dream changed, and we encountered Thomas Jefferson and a few of the more obscure founding fathers (I never did find out who everyone was).  They were convinced that they were in France, and tried to speak to us in French.  They wanted our help in getting home, I think.  Meanwhile, the government had become convinced that they were spies.  (Really?  Don’t you recognize Thomas Jefferson?)  They had our house surrounded and were communicating with us through our computer.  I tried to explain what was going on — what I could understand of it — but the government wasn’t listening.  Then I woke up.

How’s that for crazy?

*That’s a figure of speech.  I don’t even like anchovy pizza, let alone eat it right before bedtime.


That’s what happens when you read spy novels before bed.

BratzBasher told me she had a dream about James Bond helping Her Royal Majesty, the Queen of England, escape from the Royal Palace because there was a monster in the Royal Toilet.  (I don’t know that all of those caps are necessary, but they’re fun.)  At one point, their van developed mechanical trouble, and they had to stop so Bond could fix it.  He made the unfortunate error of stopping at a toilet supply shop.  The monster could come at HRM through any toilet, so it wasn’t long before Bond found himself firing his weapon at a mint green blob.  Alas, bullets were no effect, so he stomped on it.  Half of it melted into the concrete floor, and the other half oozed away, whimpering.  Then BB woke up.

Can you tell she’s my daughter?


This one’s a doozy.

I had a crazy dream last night.  I’m sure you’d love to hear all about it.

So my oldest sister put together a circus — sort of a family reunion celebration, except that the family had to work in the circus instead of enjoy it.  I had the worst job.  I was in charge of all the sound for the circus.  From opening to closing, I controlled the sounds, the music, all of the audio.  I even did the animal sounds, although there were real animals who could’ve made the sounds.  This is a lot of work, so Big Sis ordered a contraption built to help me manage it all.  It was made from plywood, various bungee cords, and an old stationary bicycle.  I had to pedal the bike to power the machine.  All afternoon/evening.  Everyone else got breaks in between their acts.  I was really put out, as you can imagine.

Anyway…there were other parts to this dream that are not so clear, but still interesting– including the fact that nobody remembered to pack any extra socks to wear (except me).  One of the most bizarre side plots was the orchestra.  (My contraption only signaled them when to play.  It didn’t produce actual music.)  The musicians were all Charlton Heston clones.  It gets better.  They were various ages because each year, they’d make a new clone for each instrument in the orchestra.  Each generation of clones had a day job — such as policeman, accountant, whatever — though why they couldn’t make money as the Charlton Heston Clone Orchestra baffled me.

Weird, huh?


Another awesome dream:

BratzBasher thinks this dream is silly, but I disagree.  Read and tell me what you think.

I’m shopping with a friend of mine at a gas station (Hey, it’s a dream, right?), and I’m not even sure why we’re there because my friend doesn’t drive and wouldn’t need gas.  Then I realize that the convenience store at the gas station is a dollar store.  Okay.  Anyway, while my friend drops down $60+ for whatever, she asks me to grab the receipt.  Good thing I did because…

I notice that there’s this group of people all wearing matching, black jackets, and they look really familiar — the people, not the jackets.  It’s the entire cast of CHiPs (minus the mechanic — you know, that short guy?)  Anyway…I think, “Yay!  I’ll use this receipt to get everyone’s autograph!”  Apparently, it’s the only paper I have on me.  So I start following them out of the store when I realize they’re all carrying rifles.  They set themselves up in the backs of jeeps/pickup trucks/whatever and start setting off fireworks and then shooting the fireworks as they explode in the air.  Don’t ask me how that works.  That’s when I realize it’s the 4th of July.  Did I mention this is at night?  Of course it is.

Well, I’m determined to get those autographs, despite all the gunfire, but suddenly there is a woman from church who tells me we can’t stay because it’s too dangerous.  This is actually really funny because this particular person would have had her own receipt and pen at the ready, too.  But in the dream, she is more concerned for my safety.  I don’t listen to her.  Instead, I get a little closer to one of the trucks, which turns into more of a cross between a convertible and a parade float.  J.K. Rowling is in the vehicle (not toting a rifle, but looking rather bored, actually) along with a magician that I’ve never heard of.  I get her autograph, and then his (just to be polite, really).  He tells me he’ll be happy to autograph my sticker.  I say I don’t have a sticker, but he “magically” produces one out of his pocket and signs that for me.  That’s kind of lame, but I play along.  Oooh!  Clever!

Anyway…next thing I know, we’re not out in the parking lot shooting off fireworks.  We’re back in the store, and all the CHiPs police officers are gathered around me.  That’s when I realize that there’s a table right next to me with CHiPs puzzles.  There’s one of John, one of Ponch, and …well, that’s it.  But I’m thinking.  Here are these great puzzles I can get autographed, and they’re only a dollar!  Cool deal, right?  So I get all their autographs, but I have to identify each character or they won’t sign anything.  I don’t blame them, really.  That’s when my friend (the one who spent $60 and then disappeared?) shows up again and offers to take my picture with everyone with her phone.  Mine doesn’t take pictures, and I’d been a little bummed out about that.  I woke up shortly after taking a picture with Grossman, who had lost a ton of weight since the show (I know he wasn’t hugely overweight, but this was a dream, remember?) and was barely recognizable.  He was really disappointed that he wasn’t on any of the puzzles.  I agreed that was lame.  They should at least have had one with everyone on it, right?

So what do you think?  Did I have an awesome dream, or should I stop eating anchovy ice cream at three in the morning?