Hot dogs are poop

Well, haven't posted on HERE in quite some time either. Sawwy.

Let's just jump straight into the crazy and weird...last night I had a dream that one of my friends was upset that my husband wasn't madly in love with her. It was all she could talk about to me. And my husband, though I KNEW in my dream that he was my husband, wasn't my husband, but just my boyfriend.

Wha-?

Then my friend gets even stranger, because she starts performing various presentations for me explaining her feelings for me and for him. One of the 'presentations' about me was showing poop going into a toilet, except the 'poop' in the demonstration was a series of hot dogs. Because, y'know, everyone's poop looks like THAT.

Another presentation she offered as far as her feelings for my husband / boyfriend / whatever he is are concerned, was to show a big smiley face with hearts all around it. It honestly looked like a drawing that her 11 year old would come up with (yes, my friend in real life is happily married with three beautiful children).

My only guess as to the cause of the whack-attack of a dream? Must've been the ceviche I had for dinner. Who knew shrimp and corvina could cause such a night time stir?

~Nighty-Night!~
C-Rah

(title purposely left blank) (cuz I got nothin')

Lately I KNOW I have been having dreams, but I just can't seem to REMEMBER what they are. This is usually because I wake up while I'm still right in the middle of one (shows you how whacked out my sleep routine is), and as I groggily try to get awake, the dream just *poof* vanishes.

I'm a friggin magician, I tell ya.

So nothing to report, except apparently my dreams have decided to go on a luxurious vacation in Hawaii and DIDN'T INVITE ME.

Keeping the bearded lady at bay

I think I hafta start watching what I eat before I go to sleep, because WOW. Somehow that rice and beans makes its way up to my brain and starts dancing on my neurons a bit; THAT is the only explanation I can come up with to explain what I've been dreaming about lately.

For example, Sunday night I dreamt I was in a circus. Yes, midgets, clowns, jugglers, acrobats aplenty. I don't know what MY part in this whole menagerie is, but I'm talking a bit to the clown, talking a bit to the jugglers, and man, what is up with the bearded lady? Is she on her period or something? Because that attitude was totally uncalled for.

Next thing I know, I'm getting up on stage, carrying a little boy who is about two or three years old. I don't have the faintest idea who he is, but I start explaining to the audience that recently his mother passed away because she was an alcoholic, and isn't alcoholism bad?, and this poor little boy has no alcoholic mother anymore, and have I said alcohol enough? Next thing you know, I start singing to the audience that one song from Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss - "Whiskey Lullabye" - except, I can't remember anything but the chorus, so I hum the rest of the song in between the chorus and then sing, "They found her with her face down in the pillow, clinging to his picture for dear life. We laid her next to him beneath the willow, while the angels sang a Whiskey Lullabye. La la-la la la la la, la la-la la la la laaaaaaaa."

And so there I am, standing on a stage in the middle of a circus with a weird, sad little kid I've never seen before, singing a horrible song about people dying from the same horrible condition that my own grandmother died from, and I wake up all like, HUH?

The rest of the day, I could not get that song out of my head. I haven't heard that song in, literally, months, and all of a sudden, there I am humming it to myself at work, as if I just spent the night before partying it up at their concert.

I know personally, I'm still trying to sort through all the pain, memories, and feelings from my grandma dying a few months ago. It's hard to push past so many emotions when you've lost someone you feel so very connected to. I miss her, a lot, and I wonder - is my brain trying to exemplify how I feel in the real world? Is my life, the circus that it is, full of strange and bizarre characters that I deal and fraternize with day to day, needing to sit down for a bit, and just listen? Stop and watch the single, hot, beaming spotlight on my still wounded heart, and listen as I sing about what I had, what I lost, and what I hope to regain? Is that child on stage, frightened, helpless, and alone, me sometimes? Hurt, and lost, and yet holding firmly onto a strong hand, knowing somehow, some way, I'll pull through?

Hm. Maybe I just have.

Khloe Kardashian

The last few nights, my dreams have been one big lump of scattered, unintelligible messes. It usually goes like this when I'm tired, stressed, or about to start my period. Since all the foregoing are true in my case this week, I am never surprised when I wake up knowing I just dreamed about a giraffe, eating spaghetti, and my father, in no particular sequence, and in no way related to each other, and shrug before inhaling sipping my morning cup of coffee. I just seem to skip between one grouping of jumbled images in my head after another, wake up, groggily wonder why Darling Husband looks like Dracula when he's sleeping, and then go back to sleep.

I think it's my brain's nonchalant, casual way of shrugging it's shoulders (do brains have shoulders?) and saying, Oh, and by the way? YOU ARE A NUT JOB.

A week or so ago, there is one dream I very vividly remember having about Khloe Kardashian. Yes, as in, that girl from the E! channel show. (It is at this point that I would try to shamelessly deny ever having watched it, that I would never not even for a million dollars be caught dead being so deliciously enthralled with a couple of bobble-head brunettes' meaningless lives, but *sigh upon sigh* I'll just be lying to myself.) I dreamed I was shopping with Khloe (who, even though I've never seen this show in my life, mind you, is the most intelligent and sophisticated of the three sisters, and whom, though I couldn't care a hoot about the subject, I would LOVE *squee* to make my shopping buddy any day of the week). We were going in and out of these designer stores in some sophisticated sounding city, like New York, or LA, and all of a sudden, I am confronted with a choice - stay with her and continue spending what little was left of my millions, wait, I have millions all of a sudden?; OR go to a baseball game.

I'm contemplating this choice, looking at Khloe for some kind of support, while she ignores me while texting on her phone, because, hey, she's Khloe Kardashian, and the fact that I even know how to spell her name, with a K instead of a C, really gives away just what a complete total loserterd I am, and who in the heck are they always texting anyways? I mean, do they really have something THAT important to say to someone that often during the day, and if so, why don't they call them instead of always sending their LOL's and ROFLMAO's? Are they pretending to text that much so that people will think they're cool and important, and young people everywhere will start imitating their textual rudeness so that soon every teenager in the greater United States will be simultaneously face-down in some glowing screen instead of learning how to save the world one green-friendly grocery bag at a time???

Clearly, I had much to digest mentally in my dream!

OR. Do I ditch KK (we're best friends, me and Khloe, so of course that's what BFF's do - LOL together and give each other nicknames) (not saying what mine is)? Or! Do I go to a exciting! baseball! game!

The decisions, I tell you, are monumental.

Next thing I know, in my dream, I'm sitting watching the game. No KK to serenade me with her tales of the latest stupid thing Kim has done on the Internet. I'm watching a baseball game as if it's the most natural thing in the world to be shopping Dolce&Gabbana and in the next second be eating a hotdog in the 4th inning.

Then, I woke up.

Why I started this blog

One day in the wee hours of the morning, when I was around eight years old, my mom awoke to the sound of barking. The sound was emanating from my room, loud and clear, and my mother would have quickly dismissed it except for one very weird fact: We didn't own a dog.

She opened the door to my bedroom and peeked inside, only to discover that her dearly beloved only daughter, ME, was the one doing the raucous barking...while I was fast asleep.

Since then, I have awoken many a-brethren with my audible nighttime sojourns. Now that I'm older, I no longer bark in my sleep (thank God); however, I do from time to time find that I have the most intense, theatrical, and sometimes downright humorously absurd dreams. And I have them often, too. I know it's probably due to the fact that I'm a very light sleeper, and that my neighbor's dog two houses down giving a yawn is enough to startle me awake because SOMEONE YAWNED SO LOUDLY. I know I have issues with sleep, and there have been many nights when I have poked Darling Hubby awake and asked him if heard that yawn and he'll tell me to shut up. It's this thing I have, inexplicable, annoying, and weird.

I was talking about one of my more crazy dreams to one of my friends, explaining the aliens and cane-wielding gun slingers (yea, you think I'm joking?) my brain had conjured up the night before, when, between chuckles, she said to me, Y'know, you really should blog about this.

And I thought, yeah. Why not? Why not take something so very personal as my dreams (and nightmares) (believe you me, I've had plenty of the latter as well) and expose it all here? If anyone ever asks what it is I'm doing right now, I can just simply say, SMEARING MY SOUL ACROSS A WEB PAGE, thankyouverymuch.

If anything, it will help me to see just how truly INSANE I really am. Chronicling my neuroses might even shed some light onto why I feel the way I do during the daytime, and how those fears are manifest during my night time.

Nighty Night is not meant to interpret dreams in any way, form, or manner. My belief is that my dreams are just my brain's way of sorting through the stresses and messes of my waking hours and sometimes communicate to me a fear or desire that I am just not up to facing at the moment. I don't want to hear interpretations, or how the purple unicorn in my dream is symbolic of my latent fear of toenail clippings. However, if you ever want to share something funny / interesting / not too (too) scary that you've recently dreamed / thought of / randomly coughed up this very second, please. Feel free to share. It would honestly be nice to know I'm not the only nut job here.