Too bizarre a dream even for ME

Too bizarre a dream even for ME

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?


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