Strange As It Seems, There’s Been a Run of Crazy Dreams


July 31, 2008 by Marj Hatzell


I don’t know what I am smoking (or eating or drinking) before I go to bed, but DAY-UM!  Those dreams are funky. And I ain’t talking about the hot-steamy dreams I get when I am taking the back medicine. I’m talking about poo-all-over-the-place dreams (oh wait, that one is real), me in school and trying to pass off blog entries as well-written papers (HAHAHAHAHA!!!!), traveling for days in the car and ending up in Nova Scotia, which looks JUST LIKE Salt Lake City, curiously enough…

Perhaps I’m stressed out? Anxious about our trip?  Sick of cleaning up poo (Which, incidentally, I came home from the FISM to find yesterday.  Yup, doggie was sick. Again.)?  I know one thing, they are vivid, I remember strange details and it’s fabulous entertainment.  In fact?  I’m looking forward to some good ones tonight. Preferably ones that do not contain me cleaning up bodily fluids from children or animals the whole time.  And the ones where I am in a public restroom and there are no stalls and I have to go soooo badly and there are just a bunch of randomly placed toilets out in the open and I can’t go because I’ve got performance anxiety?  Yeah, wishing that one would stop.

My favorite dream is a recurring dream.  I am flying.  Except I’m swimming.  Just me, in the air, above the ground, soaring while doing the front crawl or breast stroke (heh heh…she said breast!).  I don’t know why I like that one so much, I just do. I’ve been having it since I was a kid, dreaming about flying to school instead of walking to school.  I mean, wouldn’t it be cool?  To be able to fly, but swimming and not going too fast and not too high and just feeling the breeze as you fly by?  I find it relaxing. Maybe it means I need to go swimming. Or it means I ate bad fish or something.

Perhaps the most interesting dreams I’ve had lately are the Bugaboo dreams.  I wake up SWEARING the child talked to me, wrote his name, went ON THE TOILET or went to school with Bug Boy.  Those are the dreams that are tough to get over. They haunt me for days, as I long to hear his voice.  And more than him repeating, “Mamamamamamama” as he babbles while he restlessly wanders around the house.  More than anything I want to hear my baby’s voice. I know it won’t solve all of our problems, but gosh!  Imagine it!  I know it won’t be as profound as when Bug Boy FINALLY talked at the age of 2+ (“Oh Look!  A Baby!  I want a cookie!” First thing he ever said.  EVER.) and heck, knowing the way I cuss like a drunken sailor, it will no doubt be “DANG GIT!” or “FUDGE!”  Except not exactly those words. You know, the real ones.  The ones that make my skin crawl when my husband insists on watching Goodfellas. Again.  But I digress…his voice.  That’s all I want. For the rest of my life. Even if it means I still have to clean up the poo…

Speaking of cleaning up poo (I swear this is going somewhere.), I did something dangerous last night.  I held my neighbor’s infant daughter.  She’s seriously the cutest baby ever.  I mean it.  Curly hair, HUGE blue eyes, a wide, toothless grin…When I hold her and smell that baby smell?  It reminds me of how badly I want another child. Yes, I AM INSANE!  I know it ain’t happening.  But I do want it, just keeping it real here, folks.  But holding her brings back a flood of memories…holding those boys for the first time, drinking in their scents while they nurse, soothing them when they were ill, holding them close to my chest, dishes piling up in my sink for days, not taking a shower for a while…ok, maybe not the last two.  But you get what I am saying.  I miss those days so much. It’s not that I don’t enjoy my life now. In fact, I love my life. Even when I’m steaming my carpets at 9 pm for the third day in a row.  I just feel in my heart that our family isn’t complete. And when I bring it up with Darling, his face turns white as a ghost and he looks petrified and he states, “But honey?  We can barely do THIS.  How are we going to do THAT?” And then I say, “Just kidding!  Can we get another dog instead?”  Because my thinking is that if I scare him into thinking I want to have a baby, maybe he’ll let me get another dog. Or let me kidnap my parents’ dog.  But the husband?  He’s WAAAAAAAY too smart for that, ’cause then he says, “No.”  And goes back to the garage, where he lives.  Don’t worry, I let him out to go to work.  And he cuts the grass.

Tell me, do you have recurring dreams?

5 thoughts on “Strange As It Seems, There’s Been a Run of Crazy Dreams

  1. Vicki says:

    Ok. I get to be the weird one today. My recurring dream is that I am running through the longest field in history with tall grass and wheat (don’t ask me why). My entire family is running with me too. Everything is in black and white except on thing…a purple blob chasing all of us through this field. Everyone trips or falls behind and gets eaten by this blob. At the end of the dream I get eaten too and then I wake up all sweaty and screaming. It sucks and I get it about once a month and have since I was like 12 years old. I’m glad to know you dreams aren’t quite that scary, just gross or embarrassing. Another dream has to do with me following my brother up this long hall with a lot of doors. I call to him but he just looks over his shoulder, smiles and keeps going. He finally gets to a door and goes through it and when I try to open in and go in, I wake up. My brother died in a car accident when he was 20 and my mom says I have that dream because I didn’t get to tell him all the stuff I wanted to say before he died…I don’t know.

    I hope the poop situation gets better for you.

  2. RuthWells says:

    I have the swimming/flying breast stroke dream, too! They are always incredibly vivid. I read once somewhere that astal projection is experienced as flying in your sleep……. who knows?

  3. There’s so much here. First, yes, I have a recurring dream(s). I have either loose teeth, missing teeth, or teeth made of wood. I have no idea what that means. Perhaps a George Washington fantasy.

    I so teared up when you’re talking about Bugaboo. I was sitting there wishing it for you even if it meant I also had to keep cleaning up poop. (FYI, not as much as you, but off the floor and the couch yesterday.)

    Did you already write about Bug Boy’s first words? B/c if you did, I want to go read it, but if you didn’t, it would be a great post.

    As for the baby thing, I so hear ya. I’ve been looking at all of the Pioneer Woman’s photos and thinking that if I could go get one at Target I’d be holding him right now.

  4. MemeGRL says:

    I dream I can breathe underwater. And every time I do, I think, “Now why do I always think I can’t do this, or that it’s so hard? It’s so easy and beautiful and peaceful under here!”
    And in real life I loathe the water.

  5. Geek Girl says:

    I didn’t have any recurring dreams until last night. HKG again. Sigh. Can’t control those blasted dreams…

    Perhaps those dreams of Bugaboo talking to you are your soul’s way of feeding your need until it actually happens. Deep thought of the day. I have to lie down now.

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