I have to tell you Dear Readers about the doosey of a dream I had last night! It’s actually a continuation of a dream I had several months ago but I’d getting ahead of myself. As I stated in an earlier entry I’ve been sick so after failing to self-medicate successfully I carried myself to the doctor like a good little girl. My doctor diagnosed me with an upper respiratory infection and prescribed antibiotics for the infection and a special cough syrup for the nagging cough I’ve had for the last 3½ weeks. I didn’t take the cough syrup until last night and boy howdy did I ever feel it! I took a dose at 8pm and I felt okay until 10pm when my head started spinning like I’d had a few shots of tequila! I staggered to my bed and fell, almost immediately, into a fitful sleep.

The dream started where the first one left off, at a gas station somewhere in the boondocks. In the first dream my car broke down and I had to wait until the station opened to get it fixed. For some reason I decided to sleep in the car. Well in this dream I was still sleeping in the car but I was also outside of it! Apparently when the awake me got to the gas station the car had been stolen. The station attendants didn’t know anything about it but they suggested I ask around the neighborhood (why I didn’t call the police I don’t know. It’s a dream after all!). Now I was very anxious to get this car back because it was a rental and because it had my sleeping self as well as my magazines in it, which I sold door to door (don’t ask!).

I walked across the street and started knocking on doors. The people who answered, of course, knew nothing about my stolen car but they all kept directing me to a ramshackle house further down the street. I made it to the house and the woman inside insisted she didn’t know anything about it. After doing my best Kojak on her she confessed that she knew who’d stolen my car but she wouldn’t say the name out loud. She wrote it on a strip of paper and told me to get the hell out of her house!

I spent the next few days combing the city looking for this guy but to no avail. Eventually I made my way back to the gas station and saw my car…or what used to be be my car! The car had been totally pimped out Dear Readers! And to add insult to injury the thief had added these huge monster truck wheels so the car stood about six feet off the ground. I ran over to the car just as the thief was running from the ramshackle house. To my great surprise the thief was a little boy with dreadlocks. And to my even greater surprise he looked just like Kareem Abdul-Jabbar – old school, protective goggles and all! He ran out into the street and took off like a shot. I climbed into the car and took off after him full speed.

I was bearing down on him, watching him tremble with terror as I got closer and closer. Unfortunately, the scene changed and we’d been transported to a crowed courtroom. The whole courtroom was in a tizzy but a silence fell over the room as Kareem entered in handcuffs, this time in his adult form. Things get a little fuzzy here but I remember feeling very relieved that he’d been caught because I wouldn’t be able to pay back the car rental place for all the “improvements” he’d made. I awoke soon after, groggy as hell and barely able to make it out the door for work!

Wasn’t that a trip? Was it just the medicine jerking my subconscious around or does it mean anything? And what is the significance of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar? I don’t even like basketball! I was more than a little nervous to take any more medicine tonight but, by gum, the stuff works! I swear I think I coughed maybe three times during the day! I decided to take a smaller dose instead of stopping it altogether. I have to be honest here, I’m excited to find out what I dream tonight, frightened but still excited! Is this the way drug addicts feel? Ah well…I’ll keep you posted if my brain concocts another ripping yarn! – GD

The dream was still freaking me out so I went to Dream Moods to see if I could piece it together. Here’s what I found:

Baby
To see a baby in your dream signifies innocence, warmth and new beginnings. Babies may symbolize something in your own inner nature which is pure, vulnerable, and/or uncorrupted. Babies may represent an aspect of you that is vulnerable and helpless. If you dream that you forgot you had a baby, then it suggests that you are trying hide your own vulnerabilities; you do not want to let others know of your weaknesses.

Safe
To see a safe in your dream signifies that you are hiding your sense of self worth and self value. It may also symbolize security or a keeping of a secret. To see an empty safe, signifies loss or lack.

Running
To dream that you are running away from someone indicates an issue that you are trying to avoid. You are not taking or accepting responsibility for your actions. In particular, if you are running from an attacker or any danger, then it suggests that you are not facing and confronting your fears.

Looks like Ms. GD needs to add some serious “deep introspection” time to her schedule this week! - GD

I’m so lazy today. All I want to do is surf the net and listen to Van Hunt. Sigh!

Fear And Self-loathing In My Dreams

I had the worst dream Friday night/Saturday morning. I can’t remember all of it but apparently in this dream I’d been given a newborn baby, a boy. Something happened and I couldn’t take care of it so I put it in a safe and locked it away. Sometime later I remembered that I’d left the baby in the safe and I started to panic. I could just feel that I’d killed him! So with much trepidation I went back to where I’d hidden the baby and opened the safe. To my great joy he was still alive but very red in the face like he’d been left in a hot car instead of an airless safe. I took him out and ran like crazy thinking all the while that I was a stupid woman and should never be trusted with a kid. I kept thinking that I’d left him in that safe and now he was going to be brain damaged and it was all my fault! I swear I felt so much love for that kid and so much confusion and torment. It was so awful that the grief woke me up!

But what does it all mean?
American Football Is For Pussies!

I love Rugby. Lots of big, sweaty, burly men running freely about a well mowed field of green grass in the shortest of short-shorts. No helmets or long pants to obscure the fine, well muscled, view. No cumbersome padding and plastic body armor to get in the way of grabbing each other, throwing each other to the ground, dog piling, body checking, rubbing up against each other…

Like I said, I love Rugby!

Bite my zaftig ass Roeper!

One of my favorite magazines, Bitch (no jokes please…well okay, but just one), has a great article in the current issue about those Dove “Campaign for Real Beauty” ads, you know the ones featuring the “full figured” women? It seems most people, and by most people I mean men, find them offensive. You’d think men would welcome the chance to see “any” beautiful woman in her underwear but nooooooo dear reader, that simply ain’t the case.

Leading the shallow, misinformed charge is Richard Roeper of the Chicago Sun-Times and Ebert & Roeper fame. This misogynist bastard had the nerve to rant about how atrocious the women in the ads were because they were too fat (July 31, 2005). Too Fat?!?!? Are you on crack Roeper? Let me break it down for you: The women in those ads are normal. As distressing as that thought may seem jackass it’s true. All those models, actresses, singers and other women in the entertainment industry that you drool over are actually 20 or more pounds underweight. Have you really become so brainwashed that you think a woman who is 5 feet, 10 inches tall and weighs 110 pounds is normal? The fact is that most American women are between 5” 4’ and 5’ 6”. We weigh 130-150 lbs. These ranges vary according to age and ethnicity but basically we stay pretty much in that range.

And why are you and the rest of mankind so overly concerned with women’s bodies anyway? I get so damned tired of some ill-informed man telling me how to dress, fuck, behave, give birth (or not to give birth), medicate my post-partum depression (or not medicate it)! I swear I could just smack that smug, self-satisfied look of his face!

Oh Canada…you cheeky monkey…

Ok there is this really hot guy I met online a while back. We’ll call him Steven (‘cause that’s his name) and he’s so damn fine! What a hot piece of ass (I’ve seen it, there was so much steam rising off of it that it melted my webcam)! But alas we are both poor as church mice and can’t afford to travel for international sushi body shots. And did I mention he’s a fireman? [Insert hose jokes here] That smile! Those Eyes! That warm, maple syrup voice on my callnotes! Dare I say it? I think I’m crushing! Wentworth who?

Still lazy but now I’m hungry. - GD