If a dream is a wish your heart makes...

...then I’m in trouble.

Because I have some weird dreams. I’m not just talking dreams that are a little bit odd. I’ve had dreams so strange that sometimes after I’ve told Phil about one, he has said to me, ‘Don’t feel like you have to tell anyone else about that dream.’

I dream about people that I’ve met once. I dream about people that I haven’t seen for 30 years. I dream that I’m back in high school, but I’m the age I am now, AND I’m pregnant, AND I’m trying to fit back into my cheerleading uniform, AND I’m desperately trying to follow along with the halftime dance routine. (Okay, that one may actually be one of my more normal dreams.)

A few years ago I had a dream about a kid I knew from junior high, that I haven't seen or even thought of in years. Well, in this dream, guess who brought me a dead skunk on a shovel, and asked me to bury it in my backyard? Yep. Freud would have a field day, right?

And my dreams do not stop and start. They flow into each other like molten lava, with people and places suddenly shifting… ‘So, we’re at Mount Rushmore, and I’m flying a kite with my best friend from grade school, and then suddenly, we’re on a boat, and I’m using an antique letter opener to try to catch an octopus. Well, it made sense in my dream.’

Last night’s dream was pretty tame.
1. It was not some strange place I’d never been.
2. It did not include that guy that I saw at the corner whose cardboard sign read, “Just need a little help until the Mother Ship comes back for me…”.
3. And in this dream, my teeth were not falling out (I ALWAYS have dreams where my teeth are falling out. I’m pretty sure it’s because I grind my teeth at night, but it’s very disconcerting, to say the least.)

So, in my dream last night, I was driving in the van down Great Oaks, heading toward home, and Josie yells up to me from the backseat, “Mom! Smokey’s on your tail!” ('cause that's just how we talk around here... ;)

And sure enough, in this dream, I get pulled over, and the cop tells me that I was speeding… yadda, yadda… I get a ticket (which is actually a book of Mad Libs in the dream… but I KNEW it was a ticket! Trust me, it made sense.)

So why am I telling you this? (Why do I tell you anything, my dear readers?!!) Well, because in my dream, I didn’t care about the ticket/ Mad Lib which, incidentally, was going to cost me $211 and some change.

In my dream, all I cared about was getting home so that I could BLOG about it.

That’s right, my friends. I’m now dreaming about my blog. And blogging about my dream.

I think I’ve come full circle in the crazy train.