i know it was a long and interesting dream. when i woke up, i could still remember bits and scenes, i had the feelings, but not the details — and then this reminded me of a really teenage poem i wrote … you know, when i was a teenager. maybe i should see if i can recall it from memory, because every blog should have bad teenage poetry in it somewhere. and cat pictures. but i don’t have any of those right now.
but the one dream image that’s stuck with me throughout the day, and annoyingly enough, is with me still, is this: chris wandering around the house dressed only in bread. yes, bread. sliced bread. wheat, i think. stuck to various bits of him, no idea how it was sticking to him, and then there was the slice he had stuck between his ass cheeks.
why can’t he understand that after he acts like that in my dream, i’m going to be a little fussy at him? i mean, if i dream something that annoying about a person, they must have done something to cause it.
so anyway the silly adolescent poem was about that just on the tip of your mind feeling, that can’t quite get to it feeling. i may add it in the more text later.
Now wait a minute. It it grossly unfair to blame someone for his behavior during a dream, particularly a daytime (this was during a nap, right?) dream. Hold thy tongue under pain of embarassment!
Although the whole wheat slices are worthy of Faith’s giant banana advertising ploy, come to think…
well, it was a daytime dream only in that i was asleep well into the day today. and i would *not* dream anything that annoying without provocation. i mean, the slice wedged in the ass? eww. just eww. that is *so* not my fault.
Odd that I would read this while listening to a Ben Kweller song containing the lyrics, “Sex reminds her of eating spaghetti.”
I used to have dreams of my hubby cheating on me, and if he was here when I woke up, I generally slapped him in the arm a time or two just in case it was true.
wearing bread? we have to talk, i may need to use that image in a film.
this post should have had a warning on it, i nearly spit coffee on my monitor. *giggle*
… and no one has requested the silly teenage poem. *sigh* it’s for the best really.
/me crosses toast off of today’s brunch menu.