| |
There is no WAY I can go on without sharing this with you. It starts out: "I had this dream, see...."
It all started last night. First, I went to sleep.
ooooOOOOoooo. I know. Scintillating, right? Okay, F'real this time:
I dreamt that George and I were back in our early-dating or early-marriage stages (it wasn't clear, really, as is so typical with dreams. Of course...that's about where the "typical" ends). The dream seemed to start in the middle; we were moving and lugging boxes and it became clear that we were moving me into George's house up north (he being from north o' Boston n' all), though it was not like any house of his I'd ever seen. What was interesting about this house was that it contained his current--and much older--WIFE. Who, let me be clear, was not ME. Let me also be clear that George has never been married before (that I KNOW of...) so this is all quite an interesting development.
Wife-lady did not know about me, either, until I started placing boxes all over her house and I felt guilty that she was finding out this way. George apparently found all of this quite normal. Not only did he not seem to care how either of his wimmin-folk took to this new arrangment...but in fact seemed quite happy at the discomfort such a surprise was eliciting from us. He just happily bounced around the house, moving boxes and making up a bed for me.
As the dream progressed, we learn that she lived upstairs with her child from a previous relationship (where she was widowed after many long years of marriage), a fact I learned by viewing a framed document on the WALL. Which, sadly, made me feel better for her. And I was apparently so into my compassion for her AND, I guess, this dumbass dream, that I didn't feel that the document (the one FRAMED. on the frickin' WALL) was odd. This document, by the way? Was a faded red and white, older document, was hung among--and just like the other--pictures, and was typed on an old plinkity-plonkity typewriter (technical term), was very governmental-looking and official in nature, actually contained a few pictures, AND? Had bubble marks like the ones on our old tests from high school. Some of which were filled in.
Evidently this is enough to satisfy Dream-Gracie, as I am no longer interested in any other information (including how she and my George got together AND got married) and trot off to finish moving my boxes into her home, much happier now, but still feeling somewhat awkward. (note: I very much want to use the word WONT somewhere in here, but I'm refraining. See how I, too, can grow n' learn? Hey thanks!)
Moving on, I kept trying to unpack my things while not complaining that we'd be sleeping in separate (twin-size) beds in a basement, but every time I turned around there were more and more boxes of things that George was unloading, including items he was bringing home from work and things he'd bought at stores and garage sales (including several bags of stone owls and turtles) and I couldn't make my way around and kept tripping and almost falling. I was also quite worried (hi OCD!) about the fire hazard this mess was causing.
As is typical in dreams, things seemed to jump ahead in time and we were now getting ready to go to sleep. But just as we were about to go to bed (separately, of course, 'cause that's what's RIGHT), a member of George's family came in and asked me to come have a cup of coffee with her. I thought that was nice (and didn't question why she was in our home at such a late hour or, amusingly, why I'd never seen her before in my LIFE) and dutifully went out to the other room with her. In my nightgown. Only to find...no coffee. Not at all. Nope. Instead I found: a gaggle o' female members of George's family. They were quite angry with me and said that I couldn't marry the family until I answered some questions. I don't remember all of said questions, but they were rapid-fire, pissed off, and not at all what I was expecting. Like I was expecting to get grilled on why I was moving in when he already HAS a wife, and having to explain why George is a polygamist, despite me having no idea that this was the deal to begin with, but instead being asked things like what kind of coffee he liked or why dinosaurs died off really.
I got out of the incessant questioning AND earned their unwavering respect by halting the barrage and snarkily pointing out that you can only ask questions when there are TWO people ONLY and there were in fact--and here I stopped and smugly counted in an eenie-meenie-miny-moe fashion--TWENTY-ONE of them. They all laughed, relieved that I was so smart (and apparently in awe of my counting prowess) and let me go.
I magically appeared back in the bedroom, as if by thought, and started to grumble to George about being blind-sided by his family, only to find him in bed with the first-ho. She was so very annoyed that I was still here and allowed to stay in HER house (bitch!) and resignedly got out of bed and left the room, deciding on the spot to relinquish wife-hood to me. I felt that was a wise choice on her part. I didn't want to have to get all "Ima CUT YEW!" on her ass. Especially not so late at night.
Exhausted (and relieved at not having to be a sister-wife), I went to sleep. However, a few short hours later, my dream-self woke up to something tugging on my dream-bedspread (which was an ugly mustard color, if you must know) and I groggily leaned over the side of the bed to see what was what. Oh, guess what was what? It was a SQUIRREL. And it was now running up a TREE. In...in the bedroom. That's right. But...we were inside, I thought. Well, not so much. In the light of day, it turned out that the bedroom was actually outside and there were lots and lots of forrest-y animals around, all of whom were quite hungry for human flesh (duh). The most threatening of them all? The ones that scared the bejeezus outta me? A pack of BEAVERS. I'm not kidding. They were after me and I had to hop out of bed and run around, trying to lose 'em. I had no idea where the hell George was, but I kept calling for him as I ran around the yard-room. One angry beaver (shuddup) was quite fast and awfully determined and was actually nipping at my ankles and drawing more blood with each angry bite. I was stunned that it was able to keep up with me, as I was running TOP speed (which, y'know, I do ALL the time). The damn thing even maintained its attack as I leaped over a large tangle of tree roots. It was like a cartoon, with me in a white nightgown, holding it up at my knees so it wouldn't get wet from the ground...leaping (kicking my legs out behind me, dancer-like) and pointing my toes as I did so, ever-so-gracefully (which, HULLO, means TOTAL dreamland, cause I am NEVER graceful. Ever. Also? Leaping? Yeah. SO me.)
The chasing just continued, relentlessly, and the last thought I had as I (thank GAWD-a-MIGHTEE) woke myself up was "what. the. HELL!? I thought beavers were SLOW!"
*****************************************************************
And then I woke up, smacked my hand over my mouth and stumbled into the bathroom where I spent the next 10 minutes or so snorting and laughing hysterically into my hands, trying not to wake up George. And then, in the dark, I opened the bathroom drawer, pulled out the pen and sticky note pad I keep in the potty-room for JUST such occasions and scribbled a note to remind me of this in the morning so I could share it with my peeps.
You? Are WELCOME.
*****************************************************************
Tune in next time when I post some emails from readers!
*****************************************************************
Someone Arrived Here Searching For:
fart humiliation videos
tomboy porn [*sings* soooomebodyyyyy's coooonfffuuuUUUUsed.]
"jewish nicknames" love letter
celebrity's nail
heary pusy [oh. my GOD!! GO to SCHOOL you IGNORANT FUCK]
sex of granny and grandpa [and YOU? YOU just go out to the barn and think about what you've done]
frozen feces [dude. I don't even KNOW where to send YOU.]
fuckaroo porn
morons in action
why do black men grab?
american boiled sausage
big panties
female poop photos
spanking diana krall [she's a beautiful person, yes. An amazing, blues-y singer, true. But spankable? That's just WRONG.]
mama's boobs [nevermind. Let's go back to spanking Diana.]
what causes pimples on the ass in adulthood [really? there's an age limit at which the reasons change?]
lick my bride's snatch [I've got nothing. At all. I'm so disturbed by this...I can't even come up with a snarky retort.]
ass smothering farts [can one die from smothering one's ass??]
porn staaaaar [Porn in the NEW century! Where "A" is the new "X"!!!]
granny's negligee [diaaaaanaaaaa!!!]
sigourney weaver hermaphrodite [oh my GOD. I miss Judith Light's nipples. THAT is what you people do to me.]
sexy girl with poop in her butt
nasty biker nicknames [ohhhh, so now the NORMAL ones aren't enough? Or did you USE the normal ones already and now you're pissed off that he dumped ya and you need a NASTY one?? I don't get it. I admit it.]
pee-pee-dance
i lick my female boss [how nice for her]
midget assfucker
boob sliding
african american guys fucking american american girls for free first [what's american american?? and ...why for free FIRST?? Shouldn't there be a cow involved here?]
swiss pee porn
photos of squirrels fucking
spanky tushy
fried beets [i do NOT know.]
my wife wants to fuck [well, DUH, get off the damn computer and DO HER]
old woman hot
bound gagged sneakers smell
kitties titties
observate [good GRIEF. Just one more in a loooong line of idiocy. It gets worse by the minute. I'd love to go on, but I'm just too tired to conversate.]
*****************************************************************
*****************************************************************
************************************************************
|
