Dream On
Haven’t been sleeping well for the past couple of nights. Too much to fret about.
Sunday night: Dreamt that my cat was barfing little Mardi Gras-colored piles all over the house. Purple, gold, and green. Every day is like survival?
Monday night: Probably shouldn’t watch Space Cowboys before bed. Bizarre plot-driven tale about having to fly into space to eliminate a Threat. We were in a swanky bordello-decorated house in Los Angeles and somebody used their connections to hire Metallica to play us a couple of songs in the couple of hours before we had to take off. They played “Blackened,” which I felt was in poor taste for someone about to take off in a rocket because I thought it started off with “Blackened in the air.” (Hubby has since set me straight on the lyrics.)
The lead singer for M/A/R/R/S was there and kept talking to me like I should know him. I didn’t. But he did look like Toby from The Office.
The dream ended when someone gave me a going away present of a Minnie Mouse doll, decked out in a satin, powder blue party dress with “Ku Klux Klan” embroidered in the Laverne font down the side.
I’ve been waking up uneasy. Wonder why.