I'm a lot more effed up than I thought...

Like most people, for as long as I can remember, I have had a lot of trouble remembering my dreams. When I was a kid, the only ones that stuck with me when I woke up were nightmares. When I was about 12, my mom got me a dreamcatcher and had it blessed by a family friend who happens to be a High Priestess in a Wiccan coven. All my nightmares and dreams went away.

Until recently.

And let me tell you, if dreams are a wish your heart makes... I need to be committed. This shit's fucked up, yo.

Sometime in October I had a dream that BDubz and I were floating on a couch (Because couches float, duh?) in the middle of a flood in Fargo. We had a fish tank (With fish in it... we like a challenge.) and a Pug with us (Supposedly my subconscious thinks these are two things that we absolutely, positively, without question must save in a flood). We were trying to switch couches, but every time we got into the other couch, it started to sink (Jackass couch).

Then a little while later I had a dream that BDubz and Voice of God were mad at me because we didn't have any spoons in the apartment (But there was like 10,000 knives... how ironic?*). To which I replied that if they didn't use all the spoons to cook, then maybe we would have spoons in the house (Apparently lack of spoons is a sensitive subject in our household...).

Another dream had Voice of God shaved all his dreads off except for a small patch in the front above his forehead. And sang lady Marmalade with three of my athletes at a benefit concert (Makes total sense, right? Right??).

Last night I had a dream that we owned two cats (Which wouldn't be weird if BDubz didn't HATE cats) and my cat turned into a person at night (...Um. Yeah.).

I have no earthly idea why I have started remembering my dreams. I am even more confused and utterly disappointed with the fact that my imagination can't help me out with a dream about laying on a beach in Cabo San Lucas while Adam Lambert feeds me grapes and sings to me and Ryan Reynolds bubs lotion on my back.**

*I know this is backwards from the original lyrics and that it has nothing to do with real irony. Get off my back.
**Of course my imagination would turn this into Adam throwing salami at me while Ryan decides to use his feet instead of his hands.***
***And we'd be in Iraq or Afghanistan in the middle of a war zone.****
****And Jack Bauer would be involved somehow.