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Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Dream Weaver

I had the oddest dream the other night. Well, morning really.
I haven't been sleeping well. I wake in the wee hours drenched in sweat, feeling like my insides are a radiator...ahhh the beauty of middle age. Anyway, I usually get up, walk around a little then end up on the couch where I can fall asleep for an hour or two.
The other morning, as I restlessly slept on the couch, I dreamt I was being pursued. By a man. Not creepy- pursued: romantically- pursued.
And not by my husband.
I told Brad he must have died or something because he was nowhere in the dream. But the kids were there, encouraging me.
And my pursuer? Jay Leno.
I know. Weird. I don't watch the late Show and haven't seen or heard anything of Leno in several months, yet there he was, in my dream, declaring his undying love for me.

As you can imagine, it was strange. But the strange (and I have to admit shocking) thing to me was my response.
I thought in my dream Well, he's not that good looking...he's not a christian...but he is really funny and has lots of sure, I'll go with it.
I threw away my scruples about dating someone of the same faith pretty fast in the light of humor and money.
I'm not sure what it says about me.
Hopelessly shallow...worried about finances...needing a laugh...who knows.
I'm trying not to over analyze it or feel was a dream for crying out loud.
But really...very strange.
Tell me your weird dreams so I don't feel so ridiculous.


tierney said...

Baha ... this made me laugh. :) If I could remember more of my own dreams, I bet I could really weird you out. Forgetfulness isn't always a bad thing, I guess.

I've had lots of "wedding" dreams, where the groom is either nonexistent (and the wedding is more of an 'event' like a graduation or a birthday party), or represented by someone I've barely thought of, let alone spoken to, in my life. For some reason my dream self is never terribly excited to get married.

I dreamed a few weeks ago that I was being chased around Dordt's campus by a gunman dressed up as Godzilla (actually, I just found an unpublished post I wrote about that one, that I might post tomorrow or sometime).

One of my favorites is from a time when I had a fever, and dreamed that I was a (dead) chicken roasting on a spit, and it was my own responsibility to turn myself periodically to make sure I cooked evenly. (You know how hot and restless a fevered sleep can be...)

Yeah, dreams are pretty freaky. ;)

patty said...

Ok the chicken on the spit is my favorite!