Don’t wake me if I’m dreaming
[Taps on microphone] Hello? Is this thing on?
Hey, everyone. I decided it’s finally time I see if I can give this blogging thing another go. It’s been so long now I’m not sure I even remember how. They say getting back into writing is like riding a bike — you can pick it right back up no matter how long it’s been. However, I don’t currently own a bike and I still have a scar on my right knee from when I wrecked my Daisy Duster in the ’80s, so that analogy isn’t making me feel any too confident.
Why start blogging again? Why today? Well, the truth is, I had a dream this morning and I thought of you.
Some people have dreams that are so good, they are disappointed when they wake up. They try to hurry back to sleep to see if they can pick up where they left off.
I am not one of those people.
I have a history of bad dreaming. When I was young, I had several recurring dreams. One involved Dracula living in the back of our closet. Another involved my dad crashing down a hill in our old Winnebago and his head falling off. I don’t think it takes a Psychology degree to attribute these dreams to my then-undiagnosed anxiety.
My recurring dream these days is that I am trying to drive, but I can only see a tiny bit, like I’m squinting my eyes, and I’m fighting to keep the vehicle on the road. Again — can you say anxiety?
So I never drift off to sleep with high expectations of what wonderful stories or scenarios the night will bring. But this morning, I awoke and thought, “Really? It’s come to this?”
My entire dream consisted of me cleaning up poop.
Poop was everywhere, and it was the kind that broke apart easily into little poop nuggets (Yes, my dream was that specific), so every time I tried to pick it up with paper towels, it multiplied into more little pieces of poop crumbs and fell out all over the floor.
This is what my life has become. A poop dream.
I’m sure a psychologist would have a heyday analyzing this.
So, where do you come in to this appetizing story? Well, after my first “Did I just have a poop dream?” thought, my second thought was of you.
I wanted to tell you. Who else would better appreciate it?
So in essence, a poop dream brought us back together.
That’s some good sh*t.
That was so funny I almost pooped myself. I also enjoy the dream of your dad’s head falling off in the winnebago…
Damn, girl. You still got it. I almost snorted at that one.
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