Yet another NPR dream this morning. This time, I went to visit Christian and Brenda in Singapore, where they moved because of the schools. Berkley looked like he was about 10. It was weird.
At least, that had BETTER be what they tell me!
Creepy boobie dream: Last night, I dreamt that i had razorblades for fingernails. And I dug into my left breast and eventually pulled out a small ball bearing. It was really gross.
Maybe it will be illustrated!
Here’s the summary of this morning’s NPR dream:
I dreamed that I was friends with Madeline Albright. And that she looked so much different than she did when she was in office. Maddy had had some work done, so much that she looked precisely like Paula Jones. And I went to see her do a book signing, and Juan Williams interviewed her there. Basically, it was Ms. Albright’s voice coming out of Paula Jones’s face. How freaking strange is that one?
With milk.
I had weird nightmares again last night. When I woke up, my stomach ached — not because I was sick, but because I had spent all night curled up tight in a ball. It was muscle ache. I’m still a little bit sore, even after I decided to sleep in another hour before coming into work.
This morning — between 6 and 7:30 AM — I had another way freaky dream. This one, Chuck decided to try to make amends to Molly by organizing a surprise birthday party for her… in San Francisco. In the Haight (which I’ve not been to yet, so I’m sure it has no resemblence to the dream). At any rate, everyone shows up in this parking lot, except we didn’t get called to go until 5 minutes before we had to go: “Molly needs you right now. Go to this address in SF.” So I have my PJ’s on, no bra, no shoes, and we head off. When we get there, there’s 30 or so people in this parking lot, then Molly and JR show up and Molly’s all weepy and happy that everyone’s there. Then, it comes out that like everything that Chuck organizes, he never planned anything for all those people to actually do or anywhere for them to go. This makes for a somewhat antsy crowd after hugs all around. I was starving, so I convinced Stephen to take me to McDonald’s (??) to get some breakfast, and many of the group including Molly came along. I went upstairs (?? I guess that’s a SF McDonald’s for you.) to tell Stevie what I wanted, and the counter lady started giving me shit about not wearing any shoes before she kicked me out. I went downstairs to the seating area where everyone else was, and Dale Dawson (late for the party) walked in. Hugs and greetings, then he showed me the “invitation” he had received. It was two “print-out” pages, including the large map that took up half of one page, explaining that it was Molly’s birthday blah blah blah… I took Dale over to meet everyone, then I woke up.
Freaky, eh?
I think I’m much better now. I was all snotty (in a sinus-y way, not a personality way) last night, so I decided to take some decongestant. Big mistake. I just can’t tolerate the pseudoephedrine in the normal “take-as-directed” dosage. Not only did I wake up (well, I kind of woke up) with a very sore throat, I was totally convinced it was strep. Then, I drifted back into some of the most fucked-up dreams I have had in a long time. Including one where Karen, Molly, and I were at this big coliseum filled with people, and we were there for literally hundreds of years. OH, and Molly only spoke Portuguese, which made things more difficult on the two of us. We had these fabulous big flowy clothes, too, in rich satins. Iridescent and very theatrical, but we were in the audience, so far from the stage in the center we couldn’t tell what was going on. The audience changed over time – peasants, wealthy, middlin’. By a few hundred years in, with people coming and going, we were totally on each others’ nerves, Portuguese and all. THEN, for some reason, it was the end of the world. Not in a Revelations way, just the end. And we just died there, still bickering, not afraid at all.
I dreamed with that all-seeing third party (like watching a movie) perspective. There was a reporter and a cameraman working on an investigative story about mistreated emus. No, really. Emus. The owners of the emus were just dropping off food and didn’t notice that a virus had killed nearly all of their flock. The smell of rotting emu was overwhelmingly strong, and the reporter was going on and on about “the horrors these majestic beasts had been subjected to” when…
Okay, here’s the weird part:
…a giant flying shark, it’s belly covered with grass (like it had been laying in a recently-cut field), swooped in and started to feed on the emu corpses. It was a huge beast – something like 12 feet – and shaped like a juvenile great white before they get really portly and pack on the fat. It landed next to the pile of emu, held itself up on its front fins (which were somewhat elongated) and began to feast. The reporter was terrified – I mean, you have this huge apex predator coming right at you from the sky, gliding in even though it was not even remotely aerodynamic – wouldn’t you be terrified? But it wasn’t a problem, because out of water all those highly-evolved receptors were basically useless. It just knew about the emus because they reeked so bad.
Pretty bizarre, eh?