As you have read, I have been under a lot of stress lately. A LOT. When this happens, I tend to have bizarre dreams. Freaky deaky ones. The thing with me, even though they are so unusual, I have to ask the next day or so if it actually happened. My husband is used to this and ignores me. I mean, how could one woman think that most of the things her mind creates is real. Take for instance this conversation with my husband this morning.
Me: I had really weird dreams the other night.
Him: And this is different how?
Me: I dunno. I mean, sometimes I know they are weird, but sometimes they are so real my mind begins to think of them as actually memories sometimes.
Him: Mmmmhmmmmm (such a noncommital answer!)
Me: Like take for instance that time I hit you really hard that morning because you said you were going out on a business dinner and ended up taking a hot exgirlfriend to the zoo and bought her all of those really expensive shitty souveniers that I want, but you always tell me no. Remember that? Because you really were out late that night and my mind got it jumbled and stuff.
Him: Yes, I remember your UNCALLED for arm frogging. So, what does that have to do with anything?
Me: Well, you know how Chelle (my sister for those of you just joining us) spent that entire week reading nothing but the gossip rags and trash papers? Remember how I always interrupted what you were doing to shout out a new star who was pregnant or who was cheating on who and the freakishly wacked out world of Hollywood?
Him: Is there a point to this?
Me: There is. I just…well, I just need clarification because something I think I read I might not really read because it is way out there and well, I want to ask you to see if you remember me shouting it out to you. Remember? You chose to be the SANE one in this relationship!
Him: I am SO afraid to ask this, but what is your question? (Then he actually physically flinched. Actually FLINCHED from my forthcoming words.)
Me: Okay I just need to know if I read it or dreamed it. Okay? No judgements.
Him: What it is you think you know but you are not sure but already *I* am sure it was a dream, but tell me anyway.
Me: Okay, well…it’s like this. I think but am not sure so I am totally not speaking from the truth and would never say anything bad about someone so ..well so hip and cool and shit, but did I tell you at some point that Andrew Shue has a blue penis? I mean, freaky and strange, but I have to know.
Him: You are serious, aren’t you? Tell me you are not serious. I mean it. Tell me that was a joke.
Me: *giggling nervously* Of COURSE it is a joke. I mean that is impossible! Completely! I adore him and would never believe it even if someone said that. Totally not true. Totally a joke. A JOKE. I mean, I support the man and his projects. ESPECIALLY that new one that I am so excited about. See? Me laughing! See?
Him: Therapy, Jenn. Therapy.
Me: I know. I know. Because truly, on ANYONE blue penises and bullocks would be too traumatic! Even for me.
Him: Do not blog this. Don’t Jenn. I mean it.
Me: Of course I won’t. I never missed an episode of Mel*rose Place. I love *Andrew. **Would never dream of blogging something so ludacris!
* Andrew, it was a dream. No hard feelings? I mean, Matthew McConaughey still loves me when I dreamed he stole me away to make me his love slave. And that whole debacle about George Clooney dressing like a woman dream? Totally not true and he still loves me.
** No one tell Clint that I blogged this, mmmkay?