About last night

I realize there is little on Earth more boring than hearing about someone else's dreams, but I just slept for twelve hours, and before that I was writing for twelve hours. What else is there to talk about? The good part is you don't have to listen to me droning on and on ("then I was in my apartment, but it wasn't my apartment, but it was, you know? And you you were there, only you weren't you, exactly..."). You may skim this as needed.

Since Eden and I found out that the Let's Panic about Babies book was a go, I have been enjoying nightmares the likes of which I haven't experienced since I was a kid, when there were scary things in the closet and under my bed, and while I was asleep they would come out and show themselves to me. These days my nightmares are moderately more sophisticated, as I now rarely worry about the monsters lurking in the shadows. Even though they're there. In the form of giant dust bunnies that probably contain H1N1, for all I know.

So last night I had a fairly mild nightmare for me. I didn't, for one, wake up lurching out of bed, clawing at my throat, so that was nice. In the dream, Scott and Henry and I were staying at some kind of summertime resort. It was our last night there, and I was up in the middle of the night because I had to change the multiple litter boxes (?) that festooned our condo-style apartment. As I entered the living room, I found a horde of EMTs, working diligently on a group of cub scouts, all of whom were lying unconscious on our floor.

I tried to find out what was the matter, but no one would answer me, so I got to work embracing various cub scouts and kissing them all over their heads and singing soothing lullabies; figuring, I guess, that if I wasn't going to get an answer I might as well help out, in some small way. At this point one of the EMTs leaned over to inform me that these boys had an incredibly uncomfortable, potentially fatal, extremely contagious virus. And then the boy I was embracing leaned over and vomited in my lap.

Oh!

I dropped the kid and ran to the sink to wash off, and then the real nightmare-y stuff started, because Henry was also sick, and then he disappeared, and everything started to look weird and spooky, blah blah usual scary crap blar.

And there was all this...stuff in my mouth. This is a recurring theme in my dreams, that my mouth is filled with clay, or gum, or oatmeal, or something, and I can't communicate and I'm scooping it out but it keeps returning. So I'm performing my familiar dream-scoop when I realize, wait a minute, this is a DREAM, I don't have weird crap in my mouth for no reason in regular life! Almost never happens!

I have rarely had such moments of lucidity while dreaming, so this was exciting. I realized I could do anything I wanted! This dream was mine for the taking! So I said OUT LOUD, "Why, then I'll be gay!"

Because what else do you do in a dream, if you could do anything you wanted? You get gay, obviously! It's an unprecedented gay opportunity!

Standing next to me was a particularly fetching lady EMT, and I then took her by the hand and, without warning, we both flew up into the sky together. At which point I woke up, laughing. Because really, it figures that when I finally get a lucid dream, it would turn into the ending of Zapped.

(Sadly, I can't find a Youtube clip of the ending of Zapped, so you're going to have to take my word for it. Scott Baio and, uh, a girl? fly up into the sky together. It is silly.)