Even in my dreams, I am Pop Culture Ignorant

Warning: Rambling dream sequence without any editing because mah feet are COLD (it might snow? Sniff. Sniff.) and I need more coffee and I want to finish my sappy romance novel before the hellions that are the beloved fruit of my loins awaken.

~

I dreamt that I was at a Marriott's hotel with a 5 bedroom suite (when I dream, I dream big) when I received an angry intercom message (??? 1973 technology???) from a woman named Ms. Lowhahn. She was pissed about all of the puking she could hear through the walls and continued to rant and rave and scream that I needed to have some respect for her beauty sleep.

After deducing that no one in my group was vomiting, I headed down to the lobby with the faxed copy of our conversation (try and explain THAT one). The desk clerk told me not to worry, because that was an old customer who had been banned from Marriott hotels due to destruction of property and drunken/disorderly conduct. Apparently, she liked to call the guests and mess with their heads but it was ok because she wasn't allowed past the front door. To this I started shaking and the room kind of "boomed" as I said "but she was on the INTERCOM! Inside the hotel!" Dun Dun DUUUHHHNN!!!

The best part of it all is that I didn't realize until I WOKE UP that the "Ms. LowHahn" that I was dreaming of was actually "Lindsay Lohan." What the hell? Even within my own dreams I cannot relate to pop culture references? My sub-conscious is just as out of the loop as I am.

I'd really enjoy it in black and white, please...

I have vivid dreams.

Heh. That is such an understatement!! I don't really know how else to qualify their intensity but let's just say that I have woken up laughing, sobbing, furious, confused, and, um, ecstatic*.

So when I have a horrific dream like I did on Friday night, it really affects me. Friday night was... devastating. I have cried many times since then. I've drawn out the location of the dream because we are NEVER going there. I have attempted to explain it to my poor husband who got to experience the hysteria first hand as he was trying to go to work... I really don't want to get into details but just know that it incapacitated me, to say the least. I am still trying to clean up the house in its aftermath of neglect.

Needless to say, I would gladly trade these technicolor dreams for some blackness at night time. Just a few nights of my head hitting the pillow and then the sun waking me up 8 hours later. Nothing in between. Especially since even the lovely dreams can make me feel blue. I woke up this morning smiling with my hands over my stomach, waiting to feel the baby move again. I started to freak out at the large amount of wine I'd imbibed over the weekend to combat the evil images. And then... oh yeah. Not pregnant. DREAM-pregnant. Not real, Tracey.

Damn.

Not that I want to be pregnant! Just... well, it doesn't take long for women like me to latch onto the idea of another baby. We figure out the details of who's going to sleep where and names and finances and how will this fit into my schedules etc. etc. We make it work.

Instead, again, I feel like I've had a baby ripped from my womb.



*Yes. That means what you think it means. And yes, that is a small benefit...