So you know that blessed morning where you wake up to find that you have at least an hour or more before you have to get up? Of course you do. We all live for mornings like that.
The first thing we do? Nod off.
But see, my brain does weird things in those quiet wee hours of the morning. If I go and nod off, especially when I have only an hour to do so, that is the time my brain decides to hit me with a full-on bizarre and nonsensical dreams. Not daydreams mind you, actual dreams of which I have no control.
These dreams are so vivid and intense with emotion that they are most often the only ones I ever remember. Fighting a robot invasion using only human organic matter, baking a black cat into a pizza then digging the living thing out and petting him on my lap, and a skyscraper high plastic pool that falls so slowly in the dream I wake up and fall into bed.
Or one of my favorites, having dinner in a post-apocalyptic ice rink cafeteria (never been to an ice rink by the way) with Lori Beth Denberg, Kenan Thompson, and Danny Tamberelli.
This morning’s selection is no less crazy.
It starts with the very sad news that Ginger Spice herself, Geri Halliwell, has died from suspect causes. Which is not surprising because she apparently is completely bonkers anyway, something to do with magnetic fields interfering with her sensitive brain. I’m serious.
We move on from that to a basement of sorts where I find myself surrounded by all this old stuff of mine which warms my heart. Because apparently this is supposed to be my mother’s basement, my mother who has this habit of tossing out my things on a whim.
So I am wallowing in all this nostalgia, platform shoes, lace bags and such. Not realizing until I wake up that it is all Spice Girl related. Until I get to a table that only has a brown paper bag. In it are a bunch of charcoal gray and black beads, which happen to be the only things in this room I have no memory of.
Then I wake up…
So tell me then, what the hell does it all mean?