Without fail, I manage to have the oddest dreams when I get sick. Last night was no exception. As much as I enjoy the intrigue of said REM-state attractions, I would trade them for a clean bill of health any day. Last night’s dreams were among some of the most bizarre I have ever had. Where to begin…well, let’s see. Before I fell asleep, I remember looking at these oars by Pottery Barn. As I am in the midst of redecorating my place, these reminded me of a girl from my past who now runs her own, seemingly successful white-water rafting business in northern Colorado. So, that’s how she seeped into my dream realm. This may or may not deter me from buying them. DO I want that constant reminder? Or will I get over it and appreciate them for the pretty cool pieces of wall art that they are?
Beyond the weirdness I felt after this dream and waking up in hot and cold sweats sporadically in the night, my subconscious delivered me a terrorist attack on Denver. I was tricked by the old noggin into believing that just before sunrise, fighter jets had dropped bombs on downtown, killing 3,000. For whatever reason, I didn’t immediately jump out of bed and flip on the news. I must’ve known that I was messing with myself, or I was just too content on staying cozy under the covers. Regardless, it was indeed a happy day when I finally did drag my lazy bones off of the mattress, pour a hot cup of coffee, flip on the mandatory Saved by the Bell, and got ready for work. All with no terrorist attack in sight. Phew.