Tuesday Morning Dream recap

Had a bad dream. Woke up at 4. Couldn’t get back to bed. To show the part of my subconscious brain that cooked up this dream that it isn’t the boss of me, here’s the dream.

Lyndsay and Tea were out of town. But 2 friends needed a place to sleep (2 friends, but not their kids, apparently…) so I said they could crash. All 3 of us tried to sleep on a futon underneath a Christmas tree, but for some reason, that just wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t Christmas time, the tree was just up. And lit. Because this is a dream, we weren’t at my house, but at my parents’ house. When it was clear the futon wasn’t working out, I suggested we all sleep in the actual beds.

So we all got up, off the futon and out from under the Christmas tree. When I walked through the kitchen, I noticed a light in the back bathroom. There was a dude in black sweats, white socks, and tennis shoes. Maybe those old low top Reeboks?

He was carrying a flashlight and apparently attempting to burgle, um, the medicine cabinet? Now I know the score – it’s a classic Home Invasion nightmare. So I turn the corner again to confront him, but he’s gone. I walk into the room and look out the window, into my parents’ backyard. He’s standing about 15 feet away, so I say, “Hey, I see you out there. Stop doing this.” He looks at me calmly and informs me that I’m dreaming and I should go back to bed. Nice try, buddy. I’ve seen this episode of Mad Men. It’s not a dream, you’re STEALING STUFF FROM MY HOUSE ONLY IT’S NOT MY HOUSE IT’S MY PARENTS’ HOUSE. Then a Cadillac drives through the back yard.

“See,” he says. “If this wasn’t a dream, why did a 1990 Cadillac Allante just drive through the yard?” That’s just garbage dream logic, I decide. A classic ploy. He’s still gonna burgle stuff! Plus, then I see another guy. Younger then the first guy. A nephew? Tough to say. The point is, even though a car drove through the yard in the middle of the night, they’re still trying to steal stuff. Now my voice isn’t working. It’s like the dream where you’re waiting tables and your legs don’t work. If I could yell at them, clearly I could intimidate them into not taking stuff, but without my voice, what do I do? I race back to the front of the house and see that 1-2 other guys have parked a car (maybe the Caddy, maybe not. Tough to say.) in the driveway and have started loading stuff in.

And to show how heartless they are, the only thing that I can see for sure in the backseat is Tea’s carseat. Of course, it’s not the one we have in real life. It’s black and gray with orange piping. But, I mean, look at these heartless creeps, stealing things that aren’t mine, from a place I don’t live, while trying to convince me that it’s all a dream (technically true) while I can’t yell at them to change their burgling ways. Only I was yelling. In real life, though, not in the dream. ANOTHER CRUEL IRONY. If I could tell that guy in the sweatpants and Reeboks that I was yelling in real life, and that real-life yelling worth more points than dream yelling.

What I’m saying is: I’m glad to be awake again, where no one is stealing my daughter’s car seat, where my yard isn’t Cadillac-accessible and where, if they were stealing her car seat, I could actually yell at them which would obviously make them stop.


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