I seem to be getting used to the CRAP machine, as I'm sleeping through the night, mostly, with it on, and I mostly am waking up after about 8 1/2 hours of sleep. I'm also noticing that I wake up more quickly--more of a single awakening, and less of a return to the surface after a deep dive.
They told me to expect that my dreams would be more vivid once I started using the machine, and I have to tell you that they were pretty darn vivid anyway.
Just the other night, I had a dream that featured both Henry Kissinger and Kevin Federline. It contained this bizarre statement from Kissinger: "Been there, done that, ate the Red Hots."
I have no idea what that means.
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
My So Called Glamorous Life
I just came off a long weekend that was crammed with kid events. Starting Thursday night, we attended the Middle School production of Midsummer Night's Dream (which was fabulous, by the way); Friday was set break down and cast party; a flute lesson; driving 3 girls to Girl Scout camp; Saturday was sending Mr. Sweetie off on a business trip; post Girl Scout camp Bat Mitzvah party where Pony got home at 11 p.m.; Sunday was Bunny's aerial arts performance; which covered a good 5 hours of the day.
When I looked at this fabulous collection of activities, I noticed a distinct lack of my own interests being pursued. This wasn't a big deal, because in a busy weekend like that, it's a full time job making sure everybody gets to where they are supposed to be--with all the stuff they need to have.
But, as the weekend wore off, and we all needed some rest, I realized that I wasn't getting very good sleep either, due to some hard work I was having to do in my dreams.
I tend to have very elaborate and detailed dreams--this is nothing new. But, what was new this weekend was the subject of my dreams. Sure, there was a ton of pop culture detritus; some Homer Simpson, some science fiction zoology; super spy foiling a Nazi nuclear plot. But stripped of all the trappings, here's what my dreams were:
Saturday Night: doing laundry.
Sunday Night: making dinner--I even dreamed the recipe.
Monday Night: calling home before it gets late so parents don't worry.
I don't know, but shouldn't dreams be something other than practical?
When I looked at this fabulous collection of activities, I noticed a distinct lack of my own interests being pursued. This wasn't a big deal, because in a busy weekend like that, it's a full time job making sure everybody gets to where they are supposed to be--with all the stuff they need to have.
But, as the weekend wore off, and we all needed some rest, I realized that I wasn't getting very good sleep either, due to some hard work I was having to do in my dreams.
I tend to have very elaborate and detailed dreams--this is nothing new. But, what was new this weekend was the subject of my dreams. Sure, there was a ton of pop culture detritus; some Homer Simpson, some science fiction zoology; super spy foiling a Nazi nuclear plot. But stripped of all the trappings, here's what my dreams were:
Saturday Night: doing laundry.
Sunday Night: making dinner--I even dreamed the recipe.
Monday Night: calling home before it gets late so parents don't worry.
I don't know, but shouldn't dreams be something other than practical?
Friday, January 12, 2007
Something Is Wrong, or TMI
I think I am sick. At least, something is wrong. I cannot stop sleeping. In fact, I am actually typing this post while lying on my belly in my bed with my face pressed into the pillow and my jaw open and drool coming out of my mouth. Literally.
And by "literally," I mean "figuratively." Because that's just how trend-savvy I am.
Anyway.
I went to bed last night and spent the night having wide-screen, technicolor, Sensurround dreams populated by many people that I actually know in real life! That never happens! I had a dream in which I re-married Mr. Sweetie is some half-assed unrehearsed wedding where someone accidentally elbowed me in the nose and I FELT IT! For reals!
Then I went back to high school (still in my dream) to finish my schooling, and had to face down the Popular Girl, who couldn't quite believe that I was married and kept sneaking glances at my rings, while vowing to themselves that their engagement rings would be AT LEAST two full carats biiger than mine was. (Which, FYI, was and is a lovely, tasteful solitare.)
And the sad thing? Was that I was awake enough to realize that, even in my dreams, I was still an unclassified outsider in my own school.
To continue: I got up, got the kidlets to school, and went back to bed. Where I proceeded to sleep and sleep and sleep, even though the dog announced the arrival of the mail (Bow! Wow! bowwowowowowowowowowowowowowowow! BOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!)
It was one o'clock before I woke up, and my nose was stuffed with opaque and bloody phlem that had hardened in my nose and turned into slabs of ossified snot that came out of my nose like scabs. (Yes, that was too much information, but I did warn you.) There is something chilling about finding that your head is bleeding inside, isn't there? Something, well, scary?
But, on top of all that, I am feeling the familiar gravitational pull of depression. It seems to be worst in the shower. That is where I start feeling the feelings of failure, coupled with the complete physical inability to prevent whatever may happen next. I get to relive, psychically, all the mistakes I have ever made in my life, with the added bonus of feeling both guilty and inadequate in the past AS WELL AS obviously inadequate for the immediate future.
Dog needs a walk? Can't do it. Kids need to be picked up from school? Thank God for cars, but can I really do all that driving between schools and music lessons? Dinner? Who the hell cares?
It's not so bad that I can't see the foolishness, but I still can't stop it. And I can see the chicken-and-eggness of it too. Am I feeling like this because I am sick, and that's making me feel depressed too, or am I depressed and that's making me sleep and feel sick?
How can I tell?
And by "literally," I mean "figuratively." Because that's just how trend-savvy I am.
Anyway.
I went to bed last night and spent the night having wide-screen, technicolor, Sensurround dreams populated by many people that I actually know in real life! That never happens! I had a dream in which I re-married Mr. Sweetie is some half-assed unrehearsed wedding where someone accidentally elbowed me in the nose and I FELT IT! For reals!
Then I went back to high school (still in my dream) to finish my schooling, and had to face down the Popular Girl, who couldn't quite believe that I was married and kept sneaking glances at my rings, while vowing to themselves that their engagement rings would be AT LEAST two full carats biiger than mine was. (Which, FYI, was and is a lovely, tasteful solitare.)
And the sad thing? Was that I was awake enough to realize that, even in my dreams, I was still an unclassified outsider in my own school.
To continue: I got up, got the kidlets to school, and went back to bed. Where I proceeded to sleep and sleep and sleep, even though the dog announced the arrival of the mail (Bow! Wow! bowwowowowowowowowowowowowowowow! BOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!)
It was one o'clock before I woke up, and my nose was stuffed with opaque and bloody phlem that had hardened in my nose and turned into slabs of ossified snot that came out of my nose like scabs. (Yes, that was too much information, but I did warn you.) There is something chilling about finding that your head is bleeding inside, isn't there? Something, well, scary?
But, on top of all that, I am feeling the familiar gravitational pull of depression. It seems to be worst in the shower. That is where I start feeling the feelings of failure, coupled with the complete physical inability to prevent whatever may happen next. I get to relive, psychically, all the mistakes I have ever made in my life, with the added bonus of feeling both guilty and inadequate in the past AS WELL AS obviously inadequate for the immediate future.
Dog needs a walk? Can't do it. Kids need to be picked up from school? Thank God for cars, but can I really do all that driving between schools and music lessons? Dinner? Who the hell cares?
It's not so bad that I can't see the foolishness, but I still can't stop it. And I can see the chicken-and-eggness of it too. Am I feeling like this because I am sick, and that's making me feel depressed too, or am I depressed and that's making me sleep and feel sick?
How can I tell?
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