The Blogtastic Blogfest That Is Getmeoutofthis.net!

Gather round, get out your dream interpretation manuals, it’s time to talk about my dreams again. Oh joy! Here we go.

I dreamed I was at a family get-together of some sort. Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, and Jonathan were there, as well as all the dogs. I don’t know where Shauna was, but I don’t remember seeing her. I was trying to be sociable, until I met Jonathan.
“You’re supposed to be on your Honeymoon!” I said.
Jonathan shrugged. “I came back.”
“Why would you come back? You just got there!” I said. It was then I realized there was no way this could be real.

So I woke up. Only I was in a strange room. It wasn’t a bedroom I recognized from anywhere. It had stuff that very easily could have been mine, but I didn’t recognize any of it. I grabbed my glasses and got out of bed. It was morning. Mom was walking around. But again, it wasn’t my house. I didn’t recognize it at all. “This is all wrong,” I said to myself. “I must be dreaming.”

So I woke up. Only I was in the same room again. I picked up my glasses and it as basically the same as before. Strange house, nobody else thinks it’s weird. I remembered shit I’d read about Lucid Dreaming a long time ago, and figured that if I was going to be in a dream, I might as well have fun with it. I tried hovering, and flying around outside. It worked like a charm. I looked down at myself, and I was as I am now. (This is always a thing for me. Normally people are kind of just featureless entities in my dreams, and I don’t remember anything about how they or I look, but for some reason, I was just myself this time.) I’m like “Okay then, if this is my dream, I can be born female.” So I tried concentrating on it. I got the breasts down: they became real, but for whatever reason I couldn’t get the other bits working. This really frustrated me. I could fucking fly, so why wouldn’t my mind let me be myself for five fucking minutes? I tried and I tried to no avail. I was stomping around, angry. Dream Mom was concerned.

Then I woke up for real.

Your guess as to meaning is as good as mine, readers. And I dunno, if you want to see how often I dream, look back at when the last time I wrote about this stuff was. I haven’t had a dream since then. Heh.