I Had a Dream...

I know it LOOKS like I'm sleeping peacefully. 

…Well, not an inspiring or populist dream that will be memorized and quoted by school children until the end of time.

But I had a dream, just the same. Actually, I’ve been having very strange dreams lately. In the good ol’ days when I first started writing, I had dreams about characters. I had dreams that inspired books. And I very, very rarely had dreams about myself. Most of my dreams have always been like films, looking in on someone else’s life like a bystander, sitting in a dark movie theatre with popcorn.

But recently, not only have my dreams been strange. They’ve been starring yours truly. And perhaps that’s why they’ve stuck with me longer than my usual dreams. I even told Jerrica about a dream I had about squirrels in one of our ROMANCE RAMBLINGS webisodes.

(For those of you who don’t know… I hate a squirrel. I HATE A SQUIRREL) I even coined a new word to discuss this particular dream – Freudianly. I know it’s not really a word but it so should be!

Anyway, for the last few weeks, we’ve been moving The Scientist from his house into an apartment. He could have moved in with me, but the plan is to wait until my angsty teenager graduates. Not that any of you care about this, I’m sure.

But I digress. Where was I? Oh, the moving. Right. Ok, so we’ve been moving stuff for days and I’m a little more tired than normal. So this week, after I dropped my teenager off at high school, I’ve returned home to grab an extra half hour/forty-five minute nap before work.

Have you ever had a dream where you’re doing exactly what you’re doing? Did you follow that? Well… I had a dream that I was sleeping in my bed, in the exact position I was really sleeping in. And a man came into my house. (I watch a lot of crime TV, don’t ask me why. I don’t know.)

Anyway, from the front entryway, a man grumbles, “Where’s the dog?”

Now adrenaline is coursing through my veins. I mean, I’m just 5’2. If a couple of men break in, I’m in trouble. I didn’t have the energy to even get out of bed, I was so tired. So instead of hiding or calling for help, I decided that the best way for me to deal with a pair of uninvited robbers was to scare them off before they got to me. Because if they get to me, it’s too late. I’m done for.

Are you following me in the dream? The man says (presumably to another man) “Where’s the dog?”

So I loudly answer, with all the sarcasm and bravado I have in me, “Reading, #*$%er!”

Yeah, that’s right. Some burglar wants to know where my dog is, and my answer is that the dog is off READING. And then I call the man one of the most vile things you can call anyone in an attempt to scare him out of my house.

Ended up the man was my ex-father-in-law bringing my son home sick from school. (All of this was a dream. While my son has a cold IRL, he's been at school all week.)

Anyway, I have laughed for days about the idea of my dog lounging around, wearing a smoking jacket in the backyard with a worn out old copy of War and Peace or maybe a little Pride and Prejudice for a lighter read.

But, seriously, these dreams are going to make me batty (if I’m not already). I need to get back to dreaming about characters or people I don’t know. Or maybe I should just lay off the crime TV.

Now I know they say no one cares about anyone else’s dreams (unless they have a starring role in said person's dream)… but I’ll be nice and ask anyway. Have you had any strange dreams lately? What do you think they mean Freudianly? (It is a good word, isn't it?) But most importantly, do you own a dog who likes to read? (Because mine would like to start up a book club with his peers. Maybe something they can do after their late night poker games.) 

* Originally posted at LadyScribes 5/17/13

Image credit: <a href='http://www.123rf.com/photo_12470759_dog-reading-a-blue-book.html'>damedeeso / 123RF Stock Photo</a>