Nonsensical Babble

So yeah. Wow.

 

My followers are dropping like flies. But that’s okay. My last few posts were pretty doom and gloom and who wants to sit and read that crap? Hell, I wouldn’t want to be around me either. It’s just my luck that I can’t get away from myself.

 

Anyway. I still have my faithful friends reading this, so I’ll continue with what I was originally planning. My brain isn’t really firing on all cylinders today, so I’ll just apologize in advance if this doesn’t make much sense. It’s not making a whole lot of sense in my brain yet either. We’ll just wade through this nonsense together, shall we?

 

Have any of you (you know, the ten people reading this) ever had a quote, whether it be from a book or a movie or maybe from another person, pop into your head and you just can’t place where it originated? Or worse yet, have something pop into your head that you can’t place but don’t even know why it showed up in the first place? Anyone, anyone? No? Okay, it must just be me then.

 

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That’s been my whole day today. The first instance does actually have a reason for being in my head, but I just can’t seem to figure out where it came from. I was washing my hands and looked at myself in the mirror. It wasn’t even a “I’m going to study myself in the mirror and notice every flaw and every attribute.” (Oh crap, am I the only one that does that too?!) No, this was just a “glance at my reflection for something to do while washing my hands” kind of look. I was wearing one of Hubby’s old sweatshirts and of course it’s much too big for me. And I noticed that because it made my shoulders look much broader and my arms look about twice as big as normal, it actually made me look like my head had shrunk. And I got the image from a movie of a guy that has his head shrunk on his shoulders. But I couldn’t figure out what movie. All. Day. I kept bringing the image into my mind and tried adding more detail to it to make it clearer. Tried to concentrate on the actor’s face to help me out. Tried adding dialogue that might clue me in. Finally, tonight, I came to the conclusion that I think it was from the movie “Beetlejuice”, but I’m still not 100% sure. Michael Keaton did get his head shrunk in “Beetlejuice”, didn’t he?

 

(Side question. Are movie titles underlined or in quotes? It’s so hard to remember all the grammatical rules even when I’m not feeling like only half of my brain is functioning.)

 

Then, again in the bathroom, (What? That’s about the only place where I get two minutes of absolute silence so it’s not unusual for my brain to run rampant then. Well, if I’m lucky and don’t have the three year old following me in. Or calling for me on the other side of the locked door. Yes, I lock myself in the bathroom. I’ll take peace and quiet any way I can get it.)

 

But, back to my story. I was in the bathroom and for no apparent reason, a line from a movie popped into my head. It was, “What with him being dead an’ all.” That was it and I can’t understand why that particular line decided to make an appearance. Again, I couldn’t remember where it had come from. I kept hearing it being said by Sandra Bullock (love her! fyi), but it wasn’t loud enough or clear enough for me to be sure. So, being the obsessive personality that I am, I ran it over and over in my head in hopes of placing the line. The best I can come up with is maybe “Practical Magic” but I can’t remember the context enough to be sure.

 

This shit happens to me all the time and I make myself nuts analyzing the where’s and why’s of it. I’ve woken up with songs in my head with no explanation why they’re there. Probably the weirdest one was one morning waking up with a Lady Gaga song, but I couldn’t tell you which one because I don’t listen to her music. Like. At. All. Not even a station that might play her music. I’m a country music girl all the way. (Well, with a lot of Tori Amos and a smattering of other non-country stuff from high school on my mp3 player.) The only reason I knew it was her was because it’s one of the songs from the X-Box Kinect game Dance Central. So maybe I was dreaming about the one night I played that game at my sister’s house. Who knows. Maybe it’s my subconscious trying to send me messages. Or maybe I’m farther off my rocker than I thought.

 

I seriously do wish I could come up with a reason for half the nonsense that rattles around inside my brain. But I honestly don’t think there is a rational explanation to be found.

Prank Calls, Dreams, and Missed Sleep

Last week I promised Chanel (who’s really great, if you haven’t checked her out, you should) that I would share my “prank phone call” experience after reading one that happened to her. Mine was not as recent, but it still sticks in my memory banks.

 

Let me set the stage.

 

My freshman year of high school, I was dating a senior. (What were my parents thinking allowing me to do that?!) He had a very common name. We’ll call him “John Smith.” He would call my house all the time and sometimes he would do silly stuff when I would pick up, like play a song or something. Now remember, this was before any of us (at least any of us in high school) had cell phones or even caller-id. When you heard the phone ringing, you had to answer and hope that it was someone you wanted to talk to. So one night the phone rang at my house and I answered it.

 

A man on the other end: “Hello. This is John Smith and I’d like to talk with the head of the household.”

Me (laughing because it sounded so serious): “Okay. That’s me.” (Obviously not true as I was only 15.)

John Smith: “You’re the head of the house?”

Me (being the typical teenager): “Yep!”

John Smith: ….

John Smith: “Okay, I’m calling to talk to you about…”

(I don’t remember what exactly it was now, but I continued to play along answering questions.)

Me (growing bored with the game): “Will you stop now and just talk to me?”

John Smith: “Stop what?”

Me: “Stop trying to prank me and just talk to me.”

John Smith: “I don’t understand. I’m from…” (I don’t remember the company name he said.)

Me: “You are not. Knock it off and talk to me!”

John Smith: “I really am. Is this the head of the household?”

Me: “Yes, now just talk to me!”

John Smith (growing very uncomfortable): “Um, are you sure you’re the head of the household?”

Me (finally coming to the realization that this is not my boyfriend): “Oh my God! I thought you were someone else! No, I’m not! Oh my God! I’m sorry!”

And I promptly hung up the phone. That man had probably never been so happy to end a sales call in his life.

 

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Have you ever been woken up so abruptly that you have no idea what’s going on, but spring to action, hoping to resolve the problem and still get back to bed to catch the few remaining minutes of sleep before your alarm goes off? That was me last night. I was in the middle of a dream about all of you, my blogging friends. I don’t really remember what was going on, but Hero was so excited to show off his new hairstyle. It was a mohawk dyed red (think UFC’s Dan Hardy.)

 

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Anyway, I was sound asleep and dreaming when suddenly I heard my son make a loud noise in his room. I jumped out of bed, ran across my room and into the hallway where I met him coming out of his room. I’m thinking there’s very little time before my alarm is set to go off and I want him to go back to bed so I can get those last few precious minutes. I herded him back into his room and helped him into his bed. He started whining that he wanted his bouncy ball to sleep with, so I told him I’d get it for him and, (for the love of God!) stay in bed. I rushed out to the living room and after a moment or two of looking, couldn’t find it. I grabbed his MP3 player and took it in to him. I got him tucked in and I staggered back to my bed and looked at my clock as I came around to my side of the bed. 12:38 am. Normally, that would have been great because I’d still have a good long stretch to sleep. Last night however, not so great because I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I tossed and turned and counted in my head. Nothing. I thought about getting up to start writing, but I knew I’d really never get back to sleep if I did that. I started getting pissed because I could hear my husband’s deep breathing next to me and knew that he wasn’t fazed in the least by our son’s awakening. The last time I remember looking at the clock was around 1:20 am. Until 3:30 am when I heard my bedroom door open and my son start talking. I sat bolt upright in bed and shouted, “No!” That finally got my husband’s attention and I think he took our son back to bed. I can’t really remember.

 

Needless to say, hearing the alarm go off this morning was not a happy moment for me. (Not that it is any other day, but today it was exceptionally unwelcome.) To make matters worse, today I had to take my daughter in early for band rehearsal. (Which means leaving an hour early.) It’s not at her school, but at another elementary school in town, so I had to make sure my brain was functioning at a high enough level to go the right way. (I have been known to miss my turn and keep heading to her school when I was supposed to go to this other school for rehearsal. What? It’s not part of the routine to turn for the other school.) She apparently didn’t sleep well either because she was a real peach this morning.

 

I need a nap.

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Dreams can be strange things, don’t you think? They can be elusive, mysterious, and downright frustrating. But they can also be funny, exciting, even sexual. I’ve always had very vivid dreams. And as a result, I’ve always been interested in them and what they were trying to tell me. So far, I’ve come up pretty empty on the analytical end of my dreams, but I still like to think about them.

Sharing dreams can be a whole different ballgame. I tend to keep my dreams pretty private, although sometimes I like to share them if they involve people I’m comfortable with. And if it’s an innocent dream. Which, in my case, means I keep a whole lot of dreams to myself. Not because they aren’t innocent (although, I can’t claim to always have innocent dreams), but rather because they usually come out of left field and I don’t know what to think about them. (Wow, lots of baseball references and I don’t even like baseball. Haha.) Anyway, back to what I was saying. I also don’t mind sharing the scary or troubling dreams. But it’s harder to share the nice ones. I almost think that if I share it, the other person would belittle it or take it the wrong way, lessening the happiness I’d gotten from it.

Why is it that dreams pick up on things or people that you haven’t thought about or seen for ages? Why do dreams sometimes involve people that you’ve never met? And why is it that dreams can sometimes weave together the real and the imaginary without making it seem strange? Take my latest dream as an example. The edited version, of course.

I was having a get together at my house. It was the house I live in now. My guests were arriving and I was greeting them and inviting them inside. Suddenly, a man that I didn’t know (in real life or in my dream) was walking toward the back of the last group to arrive and was acting like he was going to walk on in like the rest of them. I stopped him halfway through my garage and told him that I wasn’t going to let him in because I didn’t know him and he wasn’t invited. He tried to be charming and get me to let him in, but I refused. I warned him that if he didn’t leave, I was going to call the police. When he didn’t move, I pulled out my cell phone and called 911. I told them there was an intruder and I wanted a police officer to make him leave. They informed me that one would get to me as soon as they were able. Then suddenly the dream shifts and it’s daylight out and this strange man and I are walking through a horse stable looking at the horses, particularly the babies. We were making small talk and I was gushing over the foals. (I don’t know how much time passed, but it seemed like quite a while. Maybe even a whole afternoon.) We were sitting in this little overhang area next to the corral still talking and watching the horses. The strange man wasn’t strange anymore. Now he was Ashton Kutcher. We kept talking and laughing and as I sat there smiling at him, I knew I didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want him to ever leave. Finally the police showed up and I told them there wasn’t a problem anymore.

I woke up feeling happy, but it’s weird because, like I said before, where did that come from? A: I’m married. B: I don’t have a particular fondness for Ashton Kutcher nor had I watched any of his movies lately. The only remote connection I can make is that I’ve been reading a lot of romance novels lately and that must have played into my dream. But all the details still have me perplexed. I mean, even taking Ashton Kutcher out of the equation (which by itself is bizarre!), why would I be falling for a guy that I met here at my house which I wouldn’t be living in if I weren’t with my husband? And the quick nighttime to daytime shift was weird, as well as the walking through a stable. I have never been in a place like it before. I guess that’s what makes dreams so frustrating.

Maybe even more frustrating than a dream you can’t figure out the meaning of, is the one you can’t quite remember. The one where only little snippets hit you throughout the morning, but you can’t quite piece it all together. It’s disconcerting and sometimes gives me feelings of déjà vu. Kinda freaky, but I guess that’s just me. Kinda freaky. Maybe it’s better to not remember all your dreams. Maybe it’s too heavy to deal with on a conscious level.

But even though they remain a mystery to me, I still look forward to those stories that play out in my mind every night while I sleep. Sure does make it harder to wake up in the morning though!