Usually, my most bizarre dreams are helped along by medicine of some sort. Or fevers, even. I still remember a dream in which I was chased by a vampire when I was about ten. Of course, I had the flu, then.
Now, however, I'm fever and even medicine-free; I haven't put a pill in my mouth in over a week. From someone who was downing six or seven at bedtime for the last two years, it's a strange feeling. Yet, the dreams persist. And they're exhausting dreams, not the happy, fluffy ones that I would prefer.
I had a dream where a photographer friend of mine and I were like a two woman Charlie's Angels, with feathered hair, guns and a give 'em hell attitude. We kicked butt all over the place! We may have even kicked butt that didn't deserve it, in the interest of just being thorough. I had a dream where we were using a contractor to fix up our house (but it wasn't OUR house, it was the house I grew up in at 214 E. Vilbig Street, which no doubt DOES need some work). The contractor was an idiot and brought me a stuffed animal instead of a carpet swatch - I remember looking at him and saying, "This isn't going to fly with my husband. You're going to have to do better than that."
I had a dream where I cleaned my kids' rooms and went through all of their clothes, separating out the ones that didn't fit. It was so realistic that I was exhausted afterward when I awoke and that particular chore wasn't done.
But I did it already! I DID!
I've also had far-fetched, kooky dreams about the cast of Supernatural (I cooked for them, sigh), one about Catherine Zeta-Jones (she was nice), and one about having another baby (God forbid).
My subconscious is making me exhausted! It's to the point that I don't want to go to sleep because I work harder then than I do when I'm awake!
Huh. Maybe I should work harder when I'm awake so that I don't have weird dreams when I'm asleep. Maybe I'll even go for a run. (Talk about far-fetched.)
anyway, I think it's worth a shot.
