I am in shock that it’s
already the first of a new week. Shocked—but grateful to be up and breathing
and looking forward to all that life holds for me and My Sweet Hubby (MSH). And
TLC. And Little Leighton (LL).
I haven’t had much sleep
since Friday night. Long story. TLC actually told me NO ONE would want to hear why I haven’t slept for the
past two nights. Suffice it to say there is an Advil PM in my future—probably
tonight.
Talking about sleep—or
lack of it—makes me think of dreams. And dreams always make me think of TLC.
I’m sure I’ve mentioned this is the past: TLC has some cRaZy dreams. I mean they
are fascinating. Mysterious. Confusing. FUNNY.
Once she shares them with me (I kid you not—I look forward to hearing her say:
"Listen to the dream I had last night!"), we can usually figure out most of the
symbolism. Every now and again we’re stumped—have no clue what any of it meant.
Then there’s moi. In order
to have the really cRaZy dreams we all have, we must be asleep. For someone who’s
basically been an insomniac since l966, I remember very few of my dreams. I do
dream. I know I do. I rarely remember details—or even what I was generally
dreaming about.
When I’d been married to
MSH a couple of years, I had a horribly frightening dream/nightmare I can
remember to this day. I was inside our fairly new (new to us) home and MSH was
outside with his boys and some other people. We had a pool. They seemed to be
having a swimming party. MSH was standing at our back door looking in at me and
hollering for me to bring some drinks out. As I turned to walk into our
kitchen, wasps and bees starting coming out of our fireplace. Thousands of
them! Wasps and bees scare the living daylight out of me. MSH had turned to go
towards our pool and I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t hearing my cries for
help. I woke myself (and MSH) up that night screaming and shaking. I recall
being a teensy bit angry at MSH. To this day, about thirty-five years later, he
says he’s very sorry he didn’t hear my pleas for his help—in my dream. He assures me if it’d
been real, he would have saved me from the doom. I did have the symbolism of
that dream clear in my mind. Better save it for another day.
I typed the details of a
dream I had this past January in my Notes on my iPhone so I’d remember every
little thing to tell TLC. For some reason, it’s still there. I’ve decided to
share it with y’all…then delete it. It’s long past time to move past this one.
ELC’S ODD AND WACKY
DREAM/NIGHTMARE:
TLC had a tiger. Yes. A
tiger. A rather large one. She’d brought it with her from her home to ours. In
her SUV. (LL was nowhere to be found in this dream, thank You, Lord…) I went
out to meet her and told her I was going to town to see my doctor. I suggested
she go with me. TLC said the tiger would have to go, too. I have a Toyota
Avalon. Although it does have good head room in the back seat—I was skeptical the
tiger would fit. He did. Sat straight up—looking out the windows—all the way to
town. My doctor’s office had moved from the downtown area out to the west side.
My doctor actually is in practice with her husband. MSH goes to see my doctor’s
hubby. They’d moved to a new, big building near a shopping center that does
exist. In fact, there’s a Bealls Department Store in that center and my doctor’s
new office was near that store. (This is not true—there is no new office
building for doctors, etc. This was a figment of my dream imagination.)
When we entered the new
building, it was HUGE—like a maze.
With tunnels. And it wasn’t just professional/doctors’ offices—there were
little stores, gift shops and boutiques. We finally found my doctor’s office.
They told me she wasn’t there—she should be back soon. Her husband took blood
from the tiger! (What???) He told us he’d have the results in about an hour. I
suggested we go to Bealls because I needed some pantyhose. (Pantyhose. Of all
things. I might wear a pair twice a year.) We put the tiger back in my car and
drove to Bealls because it was going to be too tricky to get there by walking.
I tell TLC I don’t think the tiger should go into the store with us. She
assures me the tiger will be fine. TLC and the tiger go look at clothes while I
hunt for pantyhose.
As it gets close to the
time we need to go back to the doctor’s office, I try to locate TLC. When I finally
do, the tiger is gone. She said the tiger wanted to go outside—so she let him.
I totally freak out. I (kind of) scream at her: “What is the matter with you?
You can’t just let a tiger roam around a shopping center. Off its leash!” I’m
getting madder and madder at her and grilling her as to why she has this tiger
in the first place. She then tells me she’s brought the tiger to me and MSH.
That she needs us to give him a home. (We took her cat, Mortimer, as y’all
know. We informed her that day we wouldn’t be adopting any more of her pets.) I
say NO. NO. NO. NO. NO WAY
Now I’m in my car, driving around the parking
lot, while TLC is running around screaming: “Here Tiger! Come here, Tiger!” I
can’t even contain my anger at her and the whole situation. Then, low and
behold, she finds the tiger. He’s lying up against the building that houses CiCi’s
Pizza—and the building is up on a hill. (There is a CiCi’s at our shopping
center—but it’s not on a hill.)
TLC tells me she’ll get
the tiger and meet me back at the doctors’ office. She walks. I drive. Now I’m on another hill (we don’t have hills in our town…), looking for a
parking spot. I get out of my car—feeling like I’ve parked in a wrong place and
worried my car is going to be towed. I can see TLC walking the tiger into the
building. When I get inside, it’s all changed. It’s much bigger and more
confusing. I can’t find my doctor’s office now. I can't find TLC and the Tiger. There are three older ladies (Yes.
I’m old-ish. They were in their 80s and I remember I thought: Good for them! Working!) sitting at an “Information” booth. I have
to interrupt them—because they clearly know I’m standing there but won’t
acknowledge me. They're talking about what they intend to have for dinner that night. I can see they’re annoyed. I tell them I can’t find my doctor’s
office. One of them looks over at me, in a snooty/snotty way, and says: “Go back down there to the Blue
area.” I do—yet still can’t find where I need to be. For some odd reason, I know it's a Friday. I now see a clock that says it’s 3:00 . I worry about the terrible traffic TLC is going to encounter when
she heads for home.
It's all been too much for this lady. I wake up. I remember
wondering, like we all do, if that was real or a dream. When I realized, thank God, it was
a dream, I got my phone to record it. I knew TLC and I would
want to try to figure out the meaning.
We thought we did decipher a lot of it. I won't bore you with those revelations. Since January? I’ve had a couple of goofy
dreams—not this detailed or disturbing. I will, however, share this: If I (or TLC or MSH)
need an answer to a problem one of us is having, I can tell myself to
get that answer in my dreams. I couldn’t even guess how many times that has actually
worked. The problem has to be specific. I’m not saying I’m as good as
the Long Island Medium, okay? Or that I'm even a teensy bit psychic. Because I am not. I do think
all of us get solutions to difficult situations we’ve encountered in our lives through our dreams.
A lot of times we simply aren’t paying attention to what our inner self wants us to
learn or understand.
I truly hope your dreams tonight
are full of happiness and joy and that you have a Wonderful Week, wherever in
the World you are!
ta-ta for now...Sillies...
