Friday, November 9, 2012

Becoming Meems: Psychedelic Dreams

The Meems has always had a very active dream life that she just LOVES to talk about each and every morning.  Picture me, young me, with 2 hungry toddlers underfoot clamoring for pancakes.  There I'd be mixing up some Bisquick while a griddle heated on the stove.  Three-year-old Jonathan would be pulling a kitchen chair to the pantry on a wild hunt for maple syrup while two-year-old Bryce squeaked, "Mommy, izzit gonna be much longa?!"  Then, RING...RING...RING!!!  With my third hand I'd answer the phone because there was no caller ID to politely warn me.

Me [sounding distracted and, perhaps, a bit irritable with the corded receiver balanced precariously between my chin and shoulder]:  Hello!

Meems:  Guess what I dreamed last night!  I bet you'll never guess!

Me [sounding more distracted and, perhaps, a bit more irritable with the corded receiver balanced precariously between my chin and shoulder]:  Uhhh, I'm kinda busy making pancakes.  Can you hear the boys?  They are really hungry.

Meems:  Oh!  Well...I won't be but a minute.  I dreamed that everywhere I went people kept giving me babies [baby themes recur in her dreams with great regularity].  I was wearing a new dress, and I didn't want to get it dirty.  But, they kept handing me babies.

Me:  That sounds interesting.  Did the babies want pancakes?  Cause I'm living that dream right now.

Meems:  No.  They just all wanted me to hold them.  And, I really liked my new dress.  It was pink with a green belt.  My shoes and purse were green, too.  I got them on sale at a really nice store! I sure didn't want to get baby spit-up on that dress!  Well, that's all!  Bye!

Me:  Uh, bye!

For most of my life, I haven't been able to recall many of my dreams.  Oh, I've had some doozies. Mostly about flying.  In a pickle if I was being chased by neighborhood ruffians, all I had to do was run at a full tilt boogie while flapping my little arms, and off I'd go into the air flying just above the evil-doers.  "Ha HA!  I may be seven, but I can fly!!  I can FLY!"  I'd soar free as a bird - weightless and peaceful.  I just love flying.

This morning as I was showering, I recalled my vivid dream from the early morning hours just after Alan kissed me before heading out the door to work.  It was one of those technicolor, fantastical dreams that looks reality in the face and scoffs, "Ha!  I've got her in the palm of my hand!  She thinks that this mansion with it's tunnels and turrets and talking monkeys is where she lives when she's not flapping her arms across the ocean to meet a movie star for lunch in Paris!"

Today's early morning dream combined three recurring themes:  Flying, mansions, and...well...peeing.  And, oh, was it real.

Alan took Mom and me for a ride on his new inflatable airplane that looked very much like an extra large pool float.  We all sat atop it's slippery vinyl fuselage with Alan in front somehow controlling the thing.  I was in the middle riding side-saddle with bits of the plane pinched tightly between my fingertips and my legs dangling precariously over the sides.  Mom was in back with her arms wrapped around me in a industrial-strength vise grip.  My hair was whipping against my face stinging my cheeks.  Mom was yammering loudly in my ear about being ready to head back to Raider Ranch.

After a great while, Alan landed the plane next to a huge mansion in Mexico.  In the pool.  Our clothes got soaking wet and became very, very heavy.  The senora of the house invited us in so that we might put on dry clothes.  She gave Alan and Mom clothes very similar to those they had been wearing.  Then, she turned to me and said, "I have nothing for you other than this lace tablecloth.  Perhaps you can fashion it into a dress."

So, there I was.  Standing buck nekked in the middle of a Mexican mansion holding a lace tablecloth around myself like a beach towel.  All of a sudden, I realized that I really, really needed to pee.  So, I wandered through the corridors in search of a powder room.  I opened a door that lead into a huge industrial-looking warehouse-type room [like the one I saw in last night's rerun of Extreme Homes on HGTV - the guy lived in an abandoned military silo - below ground].  There in the center of this cavernous space was...you guessed it...a toilet.

My bladder was rupturing within my abdomen as I stared at that toilet.  For the life of me, I couldn't make myself pee in such a wide open space.  I spent several long moments shifting from foot to foot considering my options (one of which was heading back to the pool, and I'm not too proud to admit it).  I just had to make the toilet area more, well, private.  So, I did what I had to do.  I parked four cars around it creating my own private powder room.  I can't even begin to describe the relief I felt when I finally took a seat and "relaxed."  Ahhhhhhhhhh.  Then, I heard someone thunking around on one of my "walls."  On top of the car parked behind me stood Brad Pitt.  The Legends of the Fall Brad Pitt (before he went kind of crazy).   "Hey, what's happening down there?!" he asked.  "Just peeing," I replied hoping that he could not see my belly fat through the lace tablecloth.

It was then that I woke up.  Like...BOOM!  AWAKE!!  And, I needed to pee.  But what did I do?  I first felt the sheets to make sure that I hadn't "lived my dream."  That's what we early morning pee dreamers do.  We feel the sheets.  And, every single time we're surprised to find that they are still warm and dry.

Here's the part where Meems would insert an "And, to think! You dreamed about flying and peeing, and didn't wet the bed!"  Well, bully for me, Meems.  Bully for me.  

I was actually kinda glad to see Legends of the Fall Brad Pitt.




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