Saturday, August 2, 2014

fuck off, stupid dreams, seriously

Oh, subconscious.

So, I might meet a guy in a couple months. For a brief encounter, like. Which is fairly terrifying. My brain has decided to process this fact by sending me dreams about baggage - in the first, I was trying to pack to go home from his house, but couldn't manage all the random clutter I seemed to have brought with me. I swept some of it off a shelf and into my handbag but didn't know what to do with the rest, and so just lamely didn't go catch my flight.

Then I was kissing him on his bed and his mother came in and called me a whore because I'd taken my jeans off.

The other night I dreamed that I'd been at a conference or something for the weekend, and I had to pack to go home, but I had too much stuff - it was all spread around in a room of the hotel - not a bedroom, more like a back room, mine and other people's stuff. There was a folded up stroller. But most significant of all was a large paper shopping bag full of ... pasta sauce. That amazingly kept not leaking or spilling. TMI for this blog, but I'm going to trust that the only people now reading here can take it - so, yeah, when I'm planning to go meet this guy coincides with the first day of my period, give or take. Hence the bag of ragu, I presume. FML.

Then, today, a respite from the packing/clutter dreams, and a return to my wedding anxiety dream - this time a second wedding, meant to be a balm for the first one that didn't work so well - a modest, simple dress, white but not weddingy, an outside location, I can't remember what else. And then, lateness, no one being ready, stupid hair not working, delays, then rain, tears, everything gone wrong...

I would like to not have these dreams any more please.  No more weddings or children's birthday parties that I haven't organised properly. No more getting married to my husband again, thank you. And while we're at it, fewer boring work-anxiety dreams too. They're so boring and stressful! Not productive!

Please, some sex dreams. Some island paradise dreams. Some meeting famous people dreams... ok, Neil Gaiman was in the wedding dream, and it started off nice, I think he was going to come be a guest, but then Amanda Palmer messed it up, somehow. I think they had a fight. Shakes fist* Come on, sub-conscious, help me out a little bit. I feel like I haven't had a good dream, or a funny dream, in years. Less life and anxiety reflection and more alternative reality wish fulfillment, plz. 


Ms. Moon said...

Good god. We should have a dream-discussion. I know exactly what you're talking about and I, too, would like a freaking break from what my subconscious so delights in telling me every night in such horrid and graphic ways.
I won't EVEN tell you what I dreamed last night. Nope. Ugh.

Jo said...

I'm not even having that exciting a dream life - we are on the same drug, though, so maybe we can just blame it and leave it at that!