I had 2 odd dreams last night.
The first involved carmex. Did you know I love carmex? Well I do. Last night, and this was very realistic, I was attempting to put on some carmex and when I touched my lips they were sausages, links not patties, and I just didn’t have enough carmex to cover 2 giant links so I begin to cry and wail that I did not have enough carmex. And no one heard me.
After a little research I discovered that it is not a smart idea to google dreams about sausages, but I also learned that there might be a little penis envy going on. Which is understandable. I used to be a man you know, in another life. A gay one with fruit boobies no doubt, but I think maybe I was crying out for that man.
Another possible interpretation is that my lips were really chapped.
After this dream I guess I took a break, because I remember a particular blank grey, that prompted snow and ashes and dying birds on my windshield.
But that didn’t last of course. Suddenly I was at the top of the stairs leading to the basement and I was picking up clothes I had thrown down the stairs (they hadn’t made it very far), and out of the ceiling popped a black spider. Screaming, I half fell down the stairs. Josh and his current girlfriend came out his room, and to my horror I had somehow lost my shirt in the tumble and was coughing like a maniac. Thankfully I was wearing a granny bra that covered everything, but while Josh went to get the spider his current girlfriend just stood there awkwardly with me and didn’t say anything. Nobody laughed, which would have made the situation so much better. I finally coughed myself awake, and as I flipped over in bed it was quite apparent that I had somehow really lost my shirt while sleeping.
I didn’t even try to interpret that. I just know that I was
horrified, and that I felt tackled by my fears.
It should be noted that I have been tipping back the Nyquil, and that I’m an extremely sensitive person. One swig of that and I’m waking up to chase purple unicorns down the hall (which is probably how I lost my shirt last night). I also haven’t been dreaming in paint lately, which is lonely and sterile. I miss the sloppy ranunculus buds and fat drops of unfinished sky.
