Saying yes...

Locking in Freshness

I woke up from a frantic dream this morning where I was on an urgent run to find Tupperware. I don't know why there was such urgency, but Tupperware, not Gladware, not Ziplocware, was what I needed... preferably with citrus colored lids.

I swear, no cottage cheese was smoked...

I woke up from the strangest dream this morning. I usually wake up from the strangest dream, but this one was bizarre. I was at some function where I was told by the "College-Aged Marty" from Sneakers, that some blogging friends were back in a waiting room, did I want to meet them??

Of course! I was not told who was there, so as we walked back to the room, I was trying to guess who it might be... upon opening the door, I see no people, only helium balloons (strings tied to a folding chair), with very simplistic faces drawn on them with magic marker, except the mouths were made of duct tape... not sealed with duct tape, but the mouth was cut out of duct tape.

Apparently these were the blogging friends. I was able to distinguish who was who by the names scrawled on the back of the balloons. I didn't get to all of them before waking up, but did see Snag, ZRM, and "Catfish". They were a lot quieter than I expected...

I did eat a cream cheese brownie not too long before bed... it was a little too rich. Maybe that had something to do with it... or, as Grizzled would say, "Maybe I'm just a weirdo".

Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble...

I had a dream last night where I found a stash of paintings I had been working on, but didn't remember doing them... they were of bubbles, lots of bubbles. Big bubbles, little bubbles, different colored bubbles, bubbles with many different colors. Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles. I'm wondering if the dream was more about painting or bubbles.

Yes, I know the title is a bungling of the original quote.

Also- this is still not a post... still not posting... not working, not doing anything, and I won't be doing anything until I get it all finished.

Fast, semi-celeb dream recap...

My night of sleep was dissected in any number of ways by a puking lamblet... my reality and dream state converged at any number of points, but these two stood out as definite dreams.

In one dream, I was staying at my niece's. Her cell phone rang and she was nowhere to be seen so I answered it. I'm not sure why I did. The voice at the other end was hushed and spewed out a bunch of covert info. I realized it was a game she was playing... some version of "Telephone". I was to pass on the name of this person, the name of the person she was supposed to call, the name of the locale where everyone was to meet and the password. I got the password right... it was troubadour.

As for the name of the caller, the person to be called and the locale of where everyone should show up? Well, when I looked down at my paper full of notes, I realized I had not written any numbers... just names... names that could either be real names or Chicago street names. I thought the person who called was Grant, but on second thought, perhaps the meeting place was on Grand. I had also scrawled Paulina and Roscoe...

The dream venue then shifted to a large building that had a bowling alley in it, an old parish hall perhaps... It was after hours and was dark, I'm not sure why we were in there, but we were... with Steve Martin, who was apparently, a good friend. He challenged me to a bowl-off. It was one shot. Whoever got the most pins with one shot could have whatever they wanted. I was game, but realized I didn't have a ball. Steve was kind enough to direct me to a tiered shelving unit in the middle of the floor that contained all kinds of balls... except they weren't... they were every object you could imagine, all with bowling ball holes drilled into them. I remember looking at a teapot and thinking it might work if it were heavy enough. It could be like curling. There was another round object which turned out to be a derby. It would never have enough weight to get to the end...

I don't think I ever chose an object and if I recall, Steve somehow found an actual bowling ball, a orange marbled one. I also couldn't think of what to ask for if I won. The dream was soon interrupted by sick lamblet calls for, "Mom!"

I'm guessing at that point, had I won, I would have asked for more sleep...

Update- it just dawned on me that a derby hat is also a bowler... egads...

Talking Heads

I had a bizarre dream last night about roaming the blogosphere. Instead of roaming on my computer, I was in what seemed like an automat... lots of little glass cases with doors on them... the cases held the talking heads of bloggers. Yeah, I know, that sounds a little creepy, but it wasn't. The heads weren't detached, but I'm not sure where the bodies were given the layout. Anyhow, you decided which blog you wanted to visit, you opened the little door and the person would start talking.

Soylent Green and Earrings

I stayed up too late last night watching various movies. I saw that Soylent Green was on and told the eldest lamblet she had to watch it, that it was a classic! Her take on it? It wasn't really very futuristic at all... they were using incandescent lights and had televisions with dials! I suggested maybe they couldn't afford the new and had to make use of the antiquated. That theory was shot the minute Shirl started playing with her new video game, a game which made Pong look high tech.

The lamblet's other commentaries included, "The women in this are really pathetic... and what's with the Rapunzel clothing??" I pointed out that polyester maxi dresses were cool in the 70's to which she replied, "Yeah, but isn't this supposed to be 2022??"  Yeah, yeah!! Just watch!!! Just wait! About 7/8's of the way through she chimed in with, "Oh... I get it, the Soylent Green is made from people, isn't it? This movie is just odd. I'm going to bed." And she did... 3 minutes before Charleton screams, "SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE!!!" That line makes the whole movie. I can't believe she didn't wait. She was right though, the movie really doesn't stand up to time.

I don't know if it was the Soylent Green viewing or the late night chocolate, but my dreams were running full tilt. Everyone was in them and time was no barrier. One part that stuck with me was finding an earring I lost some 20+ years ago. I found it in exactly the place I thought I had lost it. I was so excited to have found it and so amazed that others hadn't seen it that I was telling everyone, including Blue Girl who not only knew about the earring, but had also told a friend I had found it. Apparently the friend knew too... When I asked how her friend could know about an earring I had lost decades ago and how I had lost it, BG just looked sheepishly away. It was at that point that my dreaming world and *rise and shine* world merged and I woke up with the feeling that I divulge too much. In many ways I always have. I'd say at least 72% of the time, I'm an open book, I wear my heart on my sleeve. I share it all and expect people to do the same and when they don't, I pepper them with questions, trying to unlock the codes. Everybody is a story and I want to know how their lives unfolded.

I'm also always trying to find the meaning in things... everything is a metaphor for life. Grizzled is oh so very pragmatic and when I question why, why, why are we having to continually do and redo the basement, assuming there is some lesson to be learned, some lock to be opened, he merely responds, "Our foundation needs work." I look at him and think, ah yes... our foundation... that would make sense, but do you mean literally or figuratively??? I know better than to ask. He means literally. My mind goes to the figurative... and so I wonder, what is the meaning of an earring lost so many years ago and then finally found in a dream??? Is it some sort of closure on some aspect of my life that I didn't even realize was still open, or a sign telling me to be a little more tightlipped???  Or was it merely too much Charlton Heston scenery chewing too close to bedtime. I don't know. 

What I do know is this, it's almost 2009. 2008 had its good, its bad, its challenging and its memorable points, but I'm ready to kiss it goodbye. I'm ready to move into the New Year and hope it goes with me and not against me. Or maybe I need to stop being so bullheaded and need to go with it, go with the flow. Is that what my basement is trying to tell me?? The year is going to progress either way. Resistance is futile.

Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream

Happy New Year!

Look! I have one job on this lousy blog, it's *stupid*, but I'm gonna do it! Okay?

I was awake in the middle of the night again... I awoke to the sound of the dog gacking. I got up to see if they were dry gacks or if he was ruining furniture or rugs with actual regurgitation. I found nothing, but decided to sleep on the couch in case he needed to go outside.

At some point he settled down and I drifted off into a sleep filled with bizarre dreams. In one, my eldest lamblet was telling me how in Spanish, if you are using the title, Senor, you don't need to use an extra "your" in the sentence since there is already one in there.

Huh? I didn't get it so asked for an example. She replied that if you were saying, "Senor, your house is on fire!" the your was redundant since there was already a "your" in Senor. Instead, you would just say, "Senor house is on fire!"

I explained that just because she used the title, Senor, did not mean she was speaking Spanish... she was, in fact, speaking English and that a "your" was necessary for the meaning of the sentence, that the way it sounded now, Senor's last name was "house is on fire". She rolled her eyes in typical tweener fashion and told me I just wasn't getting it. She's right. I wasn't.

I probaby made a mental note about blogging about that because in my next dream, I was opening up TypePad to start a new post. TypePad has upgraded and changed quite a bit in the past few months. I'm not sure I get all of the bells and whistles yet... or rather, I know I don't. I just try to fake it.

In my dream, I was opening up the "compose a new post" page when I was suddenly transported from my desk chair to some virtual room that looked like the command deck in Galaxy Quest and I was in the captain's chair. In front of me were 3 large screens that held all of the usual TypePad options along with some I hadn't seen before. There were a number of buttons and levers on the arms of my chair and apparently I was supposed to be using those to write up my new post. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing and thought TypePad had gone too far and was now obviously powered by a beryllium sphere. Some improvements were fine, but this whole virtual composition deck was too much.

I don't know if I ever got anything posted... my dream morphed into a holiday party and then into the bright light of day.

Over morning coffee, I relayed the dreams to Grizzled. He got a kick out of the Senor dream and now everything is "Senor garden looks beautiful!" "Senor zipper is unzipped"... you get it. I think I may live to regret telling him about the blogging/command deck dream. He's now asking me if I'm a blogging control freak. I believe one of his exact comments was, "Are you in control of your blog?!?! You're not supposed to control it, baby! You're supposed guide it!" and then he made the screeching noise from when Tommy Webber tried to steer the NSEA Protector out of its dock. Nice...

He doesn't understand... or maybe he does. All I know is, by Grabthar's Hammer! My blogging will be avenged!

Brief Celeb(?) Dream Sighting...

Update and correction below, thanks to aif!

I've been having a recurring dream for the past 5 days... I've been trying to paint and can't. It feels like I'm painting with mittens on. I wake up feeling kind of relieved, yet still kind of panicked. I know I know how to paint better than I am in those dreams and yet, those dreams keep coming back. Even if I wake up and realize it's a dream, if I go back to sleep, I'm painting with shoes on my hands or with my eyes shut or something that keeps me from doing what I know how to do. This is obviously a reaction to last week's painting class. That one got to me, I'm still not sure why it got to me on the level it did, but my sleeping brain is still trying to file the experience away.

Last night, my dream took a turn for the bizarre! I was having the same dream, I was trying to paint with something that looked like a large bbq basting brush when someone came in the room and said he was here for his date. I had no idea who his date was until he informed me it was me!! This man did not look like my type. For that matter, I had a feeling that I was not his type. He kind of reminded me of Liza Minnelli's ex-husband... he then took off his large black and gold, rhinestone encrusted sunglasses. IT WAS LIZA MINNELLI'S ex-husband! It was David Guest!!

I was sitting very close to him, still holding my basting brush and was noticing that he was really waxy looking. He also looked like he had been spray-painted. He was talking, I don't remember about what. He seemed nice enough, but he was rambling on when I noticed a twisted bit of Kleenex sticking out of one ear. I felt kind of embarrassed for him. He must have been wiping shaving cream from his ear and some tissue got stuck. He didn't look though like he ever needed to shave. He then turned his head and I saw that he had a twisted Kleenex in his other ear. He could hear what I was saying so I'm guessing he didn't have them in there to keep out noise.

I never figured out why I was going on a date with David Guest. We never went in my dream. He just kept on talking and I just kept looking at his Kleenex-laden ears,  his waxy skin and his HUGE sunglasses. I was also distracted by my bbq basting brush. I hoped that some day I would remember how to paint again.

Update: Last night was the first night where I did not have the recurring *unable to paint* dream. Apparently David Guest saved me. If you're having a recurring dream that you'd like to get rid of, might I suggest you request a dream appearance by Mr. Guest. I have no idea why it works, but apparently it does. Oh... it also could have been the fact that I finished part of a demo for my class yesterday and my weirdo brain finally remembered that I can still handle a paintbrush.

Update II:  LOL!! NO!!! It was not David Guest... it was David Gest! My thanks to aif and my apologies to the late David Guest.

You got your Brendan Fraser in my dream! No, you got your dream in my Brendan Fraser!

Neither snow nor illness nor dark of night shall keep me from reporting my celeb dreams.

I was at a huge party where Grizzled's brother was obviously getting married again, but to the same woman. I'm not sure what brought on this reaffirmation of commitment, but this was the reason for the party. Elton John is the entertainment. I hear him singing and think they are playing an album, but then turn around and see Elton John.  While there, I received notice that I had to go back to my high school. I've had this stickin' dream theme so many times that I even know it while dreaming. I kept telling them that this must be a mistake and know at some point, or hope at some point, that I'll wake up, but in the meantime, back to high school I go. It turns out my guidance counselor is Brendan Fraser. He seems nice enough. I tell him he looks like Brendan Fraser. He tells me he is Brendan Fraser. I ask him why he's a guidance counselor at my old school? He said he hasn't had many movie offers lately and figured he'd fill in with odd jobs. 

I am then sent to the class I apparently missed when going through high school the first time… it's in the natatorium. I am on the swim team and part of the responsibility for being on the team is that you have to scrub down the pool. I try to tell them that I was not on the swim team, that I have graduated from high school and college and that I have kids and a husband to get back to and that this is really going to mess with my schedule. I am told I only need to stay for a semester and so as long as I'm there, I may as well take some other classes. They tell me I should already know my schedule. I head off into the halls of the school wondering how on earth I am going to blend with students who could be my kids and start looking for my Pre-Calculus class. I find it, but something is wrong because Mr. Earl did not teach Pre-Calculus, he taught my Trig class. Mr. Jonas was my Pre-Calculus teacher… They send me back to do more pool scrubbing. It is there that I run into Brendan again. He is sitting on the edge of the pool and tells me I don't need to scrub, we can just ride out our time there talking and drinking coffee. I wake up and remember, I'm out of coffee…

Back to reality. It's another cold snowy morning and I've got painting class today. I think I'd rather be chatting with Brendan.
 

It's the journey, not the destination, stupid!

My oldest sister, Karla, whom some of you might know from the comments down below, sent me an interpretation of my Tom Cruise dream. I think she hit on a number of interesting points and of course, she focused on the journey portion of the dream and not so much on the destination.

I had all kinds of reactions to your Tom Cruise ( you are on a cruise/journey – on the way to Whitewater).  You are having to steer from the most awkward of positions.  You are responsible, but not in the driver’s seat.  Can’t even use your hands as much as you use your feet in some unexplained way to control the vehicle.  (Think of the difference between using hands and using feet.  Hands so connected to eyes and  brain work.  Feet so connected to survival.)  However, you have a view of the road ahead that is not from your eyes.  You see things from above – ten feet above the surface.  More of an overview that shows you bends in the road and obstacles before you get to them.  It is even less likely that you see these with your real eyes because of your lying down position.  You possibly intuit how you will deal with things that you know are ahead of you.

 
Karla will be available in the lobby from 7-9pm for your own dream analysis!