I get up early in the morning. Part of it is hormones. Part of it is that I write best in the morning. Another part is that I hate the drugged feeling you can get going back to sleep. Today proved that out once again.
I woke up before the alarm and dozed off to have one of those dreams that feels like it was scripted. Instead of flying through clouds and all those floaty dreams, this one was intense, scripted, and very visual.
It was a lot like an episode from “Hoarders,” where the guy lives in an apartment and has the place jam packed with junk but still walks around the neighborhood and interacts with his neighbors.
There was a “scene” where I was sitting amongst the junk and some guys dressed in winter gear came in and started looking through stuff. I just knew they were skiers and I was supposed to help them. I put down the magazine I was reading and said to them, “If you’ll step out and let me get some pants on, I’ll give you a hand.” And then I woke up.
Now, on every level I can imagine, that sounds SO WRONG!
I don’t talk on the phone unless I’m fully clothed. I wear shoes every day or I get nothing accomplished. I could wear the clothes I sleep in to the store and no one would bat an eye. Naturism puzzles me no end because I like being dressed.
When was the last time you had a dream that left you scratching your head, and hoping that there is no deeper significance than a soup of thoughts trying to find a home in your memory? And please keep it clean, we are a family blog.
Take care–Susan Kaye