Weird Dreams

I have a lot of weird dreams. I used to keep a dream journal in order to try to interpret them. The more I wrote them down, the more vivid they became. I’m a lucid dreamer, though, so I’m not sure interpretation works when you’re going around changing things in the dream.

Last night I had a dream I was at Kristen’s house for a little party before park day. I wasn’t exactly sure how to get to the park, so I had to use her computer to mapquest it. So I’m using the computer and this jack-ass dude, dressed all businessy and acting all superior (the type Joe and Kristen would never be friends with; I’m sure he wasn’t even invited) just walked up and grabbed the mouse out of my hand because he had some “business” to look up. I was pissed and oh-so-ballsy as I ripped the mouse out of his hand and went on a rant about his business isn’t any more important than my business, just like a good stay-at-home mom who is not at all insecure about her choice. And then Steve Carell showed up and I went off on him: “I know everybody loves you and thinks you’re great, but I know you’re a smarmy bastard and I’m gonna tell the world!” And then my lucid-dreaming self was like, “You idiot! That’s Steve Carell. You will not find any smarminess about him and if you do, you will not tell the world.” In my dream I said, “Wait, you’re not who I thought you were. You’re awesome. I thought you were somebody else.” I don’t know what any of that means. I blame the jack-ass dude on a conversation I had with Dawn yesterday about her and her husband’s choice to have him be the stay-at-home parent and how jack-asses are weird about that, just like jack-asses are weird about stay-at-home moms. Jack-asses suck.

Anyway, we have homeschool park day today, and my sister TracEy (not to be confused with Tracy, my sister-in-law) and my other niece are coming to visit for the holiday weekend (can I get a “woohoo”?). TracEy , if you’re reading this, I’m not cleaning the house for you. I washed the sheets on the guest bed, but I am not doing anything else. It’s Thursday. After that, it’s a holiday weekend. I can’t be expected to clean stuff during a Thursday/holiday weekend combo. I will share my beers with you, unless I feel you’re bogarting them, in which case I will point you toward the liquor store to go buy me us some more. Don’t worry, we found one in a nice part of town, so it’s not across the street from the plasma bank. Nobody will ask you for money at the nice liquor store. You have nothing to fear from the rich drunks except roofies and date rape, so just don’t accept any drinks from anybody and you’ll be fine.