I am so not ready for the weekend to be over. I think those multiple abbreviated weeks (and accompanying long weekends) in November totally spoiled me. These normal two-day weekends backed up against a full-on five day week just feel . . . cruel.
To comfort myself, I am binging on crackers and cheddar cheese. Delicious, but I will probably (1) have totally bizarre dreams from eating so close to going to bed and (2) not be able to get up in the morning because I won’t be hungry. I know – it’s a tortured and agonizing life I lead.
Speaking of bizarre dreams, I apparently had one last night. I can’t remember any details, but when JP came into the room this morning to attempt to drag my lazy ass out of bed, I informed him that he should leave me alone because I was busy “dreaming about the Middle East”. I’d like to think that I was dreaming about something symbolic and politically potent, but in all likelihood, it was probably just one of those dreams where I wander around some vast and confusing landscape and can’t get wherever it is I’m going. Just a generic stress dream.
Actually, I have a few different themes for my stress dreams:
- Wandering around in the aforementioned vast and confusing landscape, trying to get somewhere important, but not ever making progress;
- Running urgently all over in my childhood neighborhood, but with the sensation in my legs that I am running through molasses (which, if I’m being honest, is basically how it feels when I run anyhow). I’m never running for any specific purpose in these dreams, nor am I being chased; and
- Trying to catch a bus and failing again and again OR being on a bus and not being able to figure out where I am in order to get off.
Pretty typical, I suppose. I’ve heard that a common stress dream is one in which all your teeth are falling out of your mouth. I have always been very glad that I don’t ever have this dream. Perhaps tonight will be the night!
Oh my goodness – I just blogged about my dreams. That is just about the #1 most boring and self-indulgent thing to blog about, isn’t it? Sorry about that, folks.
Since I made you read about mine, how about I return the favor: Tell me, what happens in your stress dreams?
Biggie dreams that he can’t reach his giant chicken because it’s on a high shelf and no one will bring it down for him. It’s on a high shelf because he half ripped a wing off and all the stuffing is coming out. It needs to be fixed before he can get it again.
I’ve dreamed that all my teeth fell out. It’s supposed to signify death but so far I’m still alive. Dane Cook would say I’m gay, I’m sure.
Another stress dream I had when I was an associate in a law firm was that I was taking depositions in this case but I forgot to schedule a conference room so we had to do it in my loft apartment. But I was so behind that I woke up because the court reporter had arrived, and I hadn’t cleaned up the apartment or prepared to take the deposition. I was still in my pajamas. Then, one of my colleagues showed up to take a deposition in our apartment too, and I couldn’t figure out how we could run 2 depositions in 1 large room (with only 1 court reporter because my friend had forgotten to order one) while I was still in my pajamas and hadn’t prepared anything yet.
My stress dream is always the same– I am being chased by the Chesire Cat from the Disney Alice in Wonderland movie.
That sounds extremely trippy, BipolarLawyerCook!
Most of my dreams are so bizarre I sometimes wonder what the hell I must have drank or eaten the day before. Most of the time, I can’t remember them after a few hours.