Saturday . April 05 . 2003 . 9:15am barbie's dream house I got this really good cottage cheese with pineapple thing at the supermarket the other day, and was eating it for breakfast. Then I left my desk for one (1) second, and when I got back, the dog was front-paws-up on the desk, with her whole head stuck into the container, frantically lapping. There were little curds everywhere, like she was Cookie Monster going after the cookies, crumbs flying. I shooed her away and wiped off her curdy face. Then I threw away my cottage cheese. I hardly get to eat any, and now it was full of dog tongue grooves. Fucking dog. I've been having some very strange dreams lately. I guess that's because I've been getting a good amount of sleep fairly consistently, as compared to the first three years of medical school, when I hardly dreamed at all. Here's a sampling of the latest handful. The Fish Pool in the 'Burbs My family and I have decided to move into a country house in a ritzy housing development in some unnamed suburb. My mom is thrilled about the move, but my dad is pissed, because he is the Chinese Woody Allen, and Christ, there's nowhere good to eat in the suburbs. One night, we go to the swimming pool at the center of the development (à la Melrose Place) and I notice that all the pool water is fed through pipes leading directly from the sea. A big wave comes in and sweeps in all these fish, but pretty fish, like those in koi ponds. My sisters and I go to look at the fish and we get swept back through the pipes out to sea. Owen and Luke Wilson Screwed Me. (But not like that.) I am on a trip to L.A. with Joe, but for some reason, we meet up with Owen and Luke Wilson, and they make me baby-sit this 2 year-old nephew of theirs. Well, they didn't force, me, but they ask me nicely and I say OK. Because I am charmed by Wilsons. But then I have to take him to see some crappy kids movie that I didn't even want to see, buy him popcorn, and take him to the playground. I get very angry at Owen and Luke Wilson. "This is my vacation! I don't want to baby sit!" But I do anyway because I am a pushover. (Aside: I know that everyone for some reason always says "Luke and Owen Wilson" insteady of "Owen and Luke," but I go for "Owen and Luke" because that's the order in which I like them.) Scary Camp Killer I am a kid at summer camp. But I am also a serial killer. (Oh snap!) I trick other kids into being my friend, and then I kill them. There is no actual killing in the dream, or violence of any sort, just the nefarious befriending of loser kids to earn their trust. We do camp things like hiking and crafts and hot dog roasts, but for some reason, there is a metal detector at the entrance of the camp. The dream I had last night is sort of a classic anxiety dream for me, in which I dreamed that I could not graduate from medical school because I neglected to note that I didn't have enough credits. And I was trying to figure out how I could play off that I was actually doing an elective and get someone to sign off on it while really, I was just sitting home, watching "Felicity" re-runs on WE, the Women's Entertainment channel. Another variant is the Math Anxiety Dream. In this dream, I realize that I have a big math final coming up, and not only have I not been keeping up with the class, I completely forgot that I had even registered, so I hadn't attended a session once this semester. And now I had to learn all that stuff to pass the test, but I didn't even have the textbook, and even if I did, I couldn't read the whole thing over the weekend anyway, and oh man, is this going to go on my permanent record? I actually have a version of the Math Anxiety Dream fairly often, maybe every month. Sometimes I have periods of lucid dreaming, but I never have as much fun with it as I could. I always think, "Oh sweet, this is a dream, right? So now I can do anything! I can fly! I can, uh, walk through this wall!" And then I try to do these things, and it's cool and everything, but it's just not as thrilling as actually having a real dream about flying, because, whoop de doo, I'm making myself levitate off the ground, but there's no sense of real danger. Real flying dreams can be awesome, because you're swooping through the air, semi-out-of-control, and you feel as though there's at least a chance that you might die, or at least hurt yourself badly. For someone who take no physical risks in her actual life (I don't even like roller coasters), this can be cool. But once you're aware that you're dreaming, it becomes boring old you again. Look, I'm making myself float around the room. Look, I can jump off a building and coast safely to the ground nineteen stories below. In my mind. Ho hum. For the unimaginative, lucid dreaming is not much fun at all. So my best strategy, when it happens, is just to shake myself awake, and then try to fall back asleep quickly, so that I can squeeze out another, better dream before the alarm goes off in the morning. xo Michelle Countdown to the wedding: 22 days |
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Saturday . April 05 . 2003 . 9:15am barbie's dream house I got this really good cottage cheese with pineapple thing at the supermarket the other day, and was eating it for breakfast. Then I left my desk for one (1) second, and when I got back, the dog was front-paws-up on the desk, with her whole head stuck into the container, frantically lapping. There were little curds everywhere, like she was Cookie Monster going after the cookies, crumbs flying. I shooed her away and wiped off her curdy face. Then I threw away my cottage cheese. I hardly get to eat any, and now it was full of dog tongue grooves. Fucking dog. I've been having some very strange dreams lately. I guess that's because I've been getting a good amount of sleep fairly consistently, as compared to the first three years of medical school, when I hardly dreamed at all. Here's a sampling of the latest handful. The Fish Pool in the 'Burbs My family and I have decided to move into a country house in a ritzy housing development in some unnamed suburb. My mom is thrilled about the move, but my dad is pissed, because he is the Chinese Woody Allen, and Christ, there's nowhere good to eat in the suburbs. One night, we go to the swimming pool at the center of the development (à la Melrose Place) and I notice that all the pool water is fed through pipes leading directly from the sea. A big wave comes in and sweeps in all these fish, but pretty fish, like those in koi ponds. My sisters and I go to look at the fish and we get swept back through the pipes out to sea. Owen and Luke Wilson Screwed Me. (But not like that.) I am on a trip to L.A. with Joe, but for some reason, we meet up with Owen and Luke Wilson, and they make me baby-sit this 2 year-old nephew of theirs. Well, they didn't force, me, but they ask me nicely and I say OK. Because I am charmed by Wilsons. But then I have to take him to see some crappy kids movie that I didn't even want to see, buy him popcorn, and take him to the playground. I get very angry at Owen and Luke Wilson. "This is my vacation! I don't want to baby sit!" But I do anyway because I am a pushover. (Aside: I know that everyone for some reason always says "Luke and Owen Wilson" insteady of "Owen and Luke," but I go for "Owen and Luke" because that's the order in which I like them.) Scary Camp Killer I am a kid at summer camp. But I am also a serial killer. (Oh snap!) I trick other kids into being my friend, and then I kill them. There is no actual killing in the dream, or violence of any sort, just the nefarious befriending of loser kids to earn their trust. We do camp things like hiking and crafts and hot dog roasts, but for some reason, there is a metal detector at the entrance of the camp. The dream I had last night is sort of a classic anxiety dream for me, in which I dreamed that I could not graduate from medical school because I neglected to note that I didn't have enough credits. And I was trying to figure out how I could play off that I was actually doing an elective and get someone to sign off on it while really, I was just sitting home, watching "Felicity" re-runs on WE, the Women's Entertainment channel. Another variant is the Math Anxiety Dream. In this dream, I realize that I have a big math final coming up, and not only have I not been keeping up with the class, I completely forgot that I had even registered, so I hadn't attended a session once this semester. And now I had to learn all that stuff to pass the test, but I didn't even have the textbook, and even if I did, I couldn't read the whole thing over the weekend anyway, and oh man, is this going to go on my permanent record? I actually have a version of the Math Anxiety Dream fairly often, maybe every month. Sometimes I have periods of lucid dreaming, but I never have as much fun with it as I could. I always think, "Oh sweet, this is a dream, right? So now I can do anything! I can fly! I can, uh, walk through this wall!" And then I try to do these things, and it's cool and everything, but it's just not as thrilling as actually having a real dream about flying, because, whoop de doo, I'm making myself levitate off the ground, but there's no sense of real danger. Real flying dreams can be awesome, because you're swooping through the air, semi-out-of-control, and you feel as though there's at least a chance that you might die, or at least hurt yourself badly. For someone who take no physical risks in her actual life (I don't even like roller coasters), this can be cool. But once you're aware that you're dreaming, it becomes boring old you again. Look, I'm making myself float around the room. Look, I can jump off a building and coast safely to the ground nineteen stories below. In my mind. Ho hum. For the unimaginative, lucid dreaming is not much fun at all. So my best strategy, when it happens, is just to shake myself awake, and then try to fall back asleep quickly, so that I can squeeze out another, better dream before the alarm goes off in the morning. xo Michelle Countdown to the wedding: 22 days |
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