Whack-a-Doo Wednesday!
Hey, y’all! Welcome to Whack-a-Doo Wednesday, our weekly trip into the weirdness that is my dream diary. This week, we’re going back a few years to a time when SuperHubby had been deployed for a few months and Munchkin and I were living all by our lonesome. I’m not sure how that relates at all to my dreams, but there you have it. Let’s take a look, shall we?
I dreamed last night that Big Daddy had to put my horse down. Also dreamed some stuff about a bathroom, but you don’t need to know details. Trust me on this.
I don’t know who “Big Daddy” is, but I’m glad I didn’t go into more bathroom details.
I would like to thank my subconscious for my little naptime trip to Jamaica on a cruise ship with SuperHubby. Would also like to thank my subconscious that I won’t actually have to pay the long distance phone bill for letting that woman on the cruise ship call her husband for directions on how to wash the monkey and which boat to buy.
Now I’m really bummed that I didn’t write down how to wash a monkey.
Dream part 1: I stood in line at Subway for like an hour just to discover I was in line to buy a poster instead of a sandwich (that line was much shorter), then bought a poster, but they gave me the wrong one and all the workers disappeared when I asked for the poster I actually bought.
And then…
Dream part 2: The poster workers were replaced with contract killer/videographers who were planning to take out the cops on camera, and since my boyfriend was one of the cops, I had to go all ninja on their you-know-whats with a big knife while we were climbing a hill. I popped in everywhere the cops were under seige and helped take down Betty White. Woke up before my boyfriend could give me my reward.
Y’all… I just… I’m rolling. Seriously. I wish I knew what Betty White ever did to me!
I dreamed last night that we went to Disney on Ice, and the woman sitting next to me did my hair and then propositioned me. Then I dreamed I was a teenager and my exboyfriend was out of jail and looking for me to kill me, so I had to cut my hair and drive a minivan that morphed into a bike to avoid him, even though I wasn’t entirely sure what he looked like.
It seems I have a problem with faces. I’ve noticed a pattern of not remembering faces in my dreams. That has to mean something, right?
I dreamed last night that I went to Scrapbook Class in Jimmy Palmer’s morgue, then Abby put him back together, and then we all went to the river to rub logs into canoes.
Bonus NCIS dream! Woot!
And that’s all for this week, folks! Have a great Wednesday!
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