Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Bust Out Your Dream Dictionary

I've had a lifetime of intriguing dreams. Many of them are odd, as you would expect, but they all have had beginnings, middles, and ends. They are comprehensive, regardless of their esoteric symbols and imagery. And most always there is a story in there...a cinematic note to my lowly, earthly self from my "higher self". I've often been able to derive many important messages from my dreams that have helped me through situations going on around and in my life.

But after having two kids my dreams kind of faded away. It's not that I stopped dreaming, it's just that I was so dead tired that I stopped remembering them.

So, when I wake up remembering one of my "epic" dreams in total, I have to write it down. Ergo this note. Aha!!

Today's blog brought to you by the subconscious mind of Kristen, very, VERY early this morning:

It began with the fact that my head was severed. Never one to let small matters stand in my way (I like to think), I promptly smushed my detached head (no King Missile jokes please) down on to the stump of my neck, aligning all the things that needed to be aligned, and held it in place by putting a big, bulbous crystal flower vase over my head. (Because doesn't that just make sense? *psh*)

I walked around looking like the star of some 50's Grade-B Sci-Fi flick. I also was very careful not to make any sudden movements, lest my head started to slip-n-slide, or, worse, fall off.

Despite my care, I lost my head. (Not unusual in my life, I must say.) However, I went about my business of doing errands and picking my daughter up from preschool (which is NOT the norm, as I work full time) and it was perfectly ok for me to walk around headless, greeting 5-year olds and chatting with teachers.

But I needed to put my head back on.

(Now...where did I put that? It was.... tsk... It was here JUST a minute ago.... *searching, patting pockets, patting head...oops, nope, haha! silly me...*

Ohhhhhhh! Now I remember!)

I went to the home of a guy who had my head. And the vase. (Thank goodness for THAT!) Why he had them, I don't know. Who he was, I don't know. I have the impression that we were seeing each other but he was busy cleaning the backyard (the pool specifically) like he was expecting someone special...and was kind of in a hurry. I felt a wee bit hurt, but really, under the circumstances, I wouldn't be attracted to a headless significant other either and couldn't blame him for moving on. I really couldn't imagine him wanting to kiss me...especially with the vase between us. Or even without the vase...the slightest bit of lippy pressure and spliiish...my head would slide to and fro.

Anywhoo... I was more concerned with finding my head. All this took place in his backyard with a pool. I don't know the point of that, but it's a detail, so it's here.

He pointed to a little building where my head was. As I walked in, I caught a view of myself in a full length mirror. There I was in all my glory: nice shirt, pants, holding my purse...a body with a bloody gaping wound above my shoulders where my head WASN'T. (Note: The clothes I was wearing were...GAH!...like...a 45-year old frumpy house-mother! I was actually wearing a BLOUSE and SLACKS! Screw the head, just kill me now.)

The vague thought that "THAT doesn't seem right" entered my mind...wherever that was. I also realized that although things that day had seemed normal to me, I wondered if I actually permanently traumatized the children and teachers I interacted with.

(*Hello! What? What's with all this silly kicking and screaming. Why are you catatonic honey? Oops, sorry, just dripping a bit...here, I have a wipey..HEY! Come back!! You've...you've got RED on you!*)

I picked up my head, smushed it back in place with the manky vase, and realized some important things:

1. I couldn't walk around with a vase on my head forever. It was hot, beginning to smell and it was hard to see as my breath kept fogging it up.

2. How on earth am I able to do all these things if my important bits and pieces aren't attached to each other?

3. I couldn't live much longer if I didn't get my head reattached. (The term "No shit Sherlock" is, I think, appropriate here.)

I had to find someone to sew my head back on. Besides, I was beginning to get a headache. And the squishy parts where the two halves of my neck met were starting to get oozy. And I was turning a bit grey.

Securing my space-vase, I naturally headed (no pun intended) to a banquet. (Because isn't that what you do? I don't know about you, but I do occasionally turn to food for comfort.)

Anyway, I meandered until I found a woman who was a nurse. I pursued her all through the hall, repeatedly asking her to please help me reattach my head and wondering why she was being so rude and cold. She was very busy trying to get drunk and darted around ducking in and out of pockets of people to avoid my swivel-headed, vase-face – creepy really – pleading. (I don't think I held my arms out in front of me nor dragged my left foot...no, don't think so, but it is possible that is what SHE saw.)

I followed her into a small room, at which point I was stopped by a security guy. Clearly this was a private affair and he was just doing his job keeping a bloodied-up lady with a vase on her slippy head from crashing the party.

But no. No, he did not detain me. Instead, he shoved a little plastic baggie in my hand. I saw the baggie held a small commemorative keychain.,but I can't remember what it looked like. I looked up at the blue tablecloth-covered tables set in a u-shape and realized this was a reception line of sorts...kind of like a reception/book-signing. My harried nurse was at the head of the line shaking some guy's hand. On the inside of the U I saw a sullen bride in all her regalia, sitting limply behind a stack of wedding videos. (Is anyone surprised the stack of videos were the video case I have from MY wedding?)

As I proceeded up the line, I shook the hand of the gloomy groom (really, neither of them were at all happy. Having gone through two marriages, I completely understand) who was actually Travis Barker (Blink 182) and thought "He doesn't look happy, and he's kind of pasty. And sort of glowing. Oh...that's because he's DEAD!" He did look crappy, although neatly dressed in his wedding white skater hat, perfectly askew, his white and black graphic tee and his black dickies. Ah, Trav...always trying to make a buck, even in death. They were promoting their wedding by selling videos and giving away trinkets. (So romantic! So "forever!" So....reality T.V.)

I finally caught up to my nurse who was slugging one back at the bar. As she turned to give me a look of complete annoyance/dread, my alarm went off.

So, I never, technically, did get my head reattached. Is that bad?

Next blog – Making sense of all this crap!

This is good stuff people!! :)

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