Really Odd / Really Bad Dream[s]...

Maybe the patch shouldn't be worn to bed. I don't recall having such an odd / bad dream in a long, long time. I kept waking up - checking the clock - realizing it was no where near time to get up - falling back asleep and picking up the dream where it left off. Not settling. Not settling at all. I really wanted to stay in bed this morning and make sure that it ended "happily ever after" [i.e., "alive"] but I couldn't. DH was in the dream so I know it ended just fine.

Strangly, DH looked a lot like Sawyer [from Lost], with red sun-glasses. DH doesn't wear red. At all. Ever. And the day he wears red sun-glasses? There is a problem. There was also a small lavender horse - or maybe it was a donkey - no, I'm pretty sure it was a horse - in there at the beginning, but something happened to him even though he was supposed to be my pet. I clearly remember him running and trying to cross the road - there were "bad guys" doing something that made him want to run away - but he came back to me when I called him. Then, he disappeared. He wasn't in the whole dream, either. Hard to fit a small horse in the back of a VW.

Perhaps if I hadn't been locked up in a garage with a bunch of other mostly unknowns - along with my husband who looked like Sawyer [who was, at the end, trying to save us! he is a hero!!!] - and forced to eat scrambled eggs that no one took the squiggly's off of and miniature little spicy beef sausages - like pigs in a blanket - with the mustard already in them - YUCK! - I would have been able to sleep and get to the end of the dream... But with a meal like that - when you don't eat beef at all, and the thought of eating an egg that still has the squiggley on it... Had to get up. Surely if I wouldn't have gotten up, the ending of the dream would not have been pretty as food like that would never stay down.

There were an awful lot of "bad guys" in the dream. Which, by the way, took place in Concord, N.H. [where I grew up as a child], but had a garage like the one I used to park in in Springfield, Massachusetts. Back to the "bad guys." They were mostly young and handsome. And mostly they were all very "ethinc" looking [read that however you want - they looked like "locals" from here in the Sandbox, but in Concord, N.H.] Huh? A few older "bad guys," though, one that was fairly mean to a donkey - which is how I know that what I had was a small lavender horse. Throw in a couple of old women "bad guys" for good mixture - but mostly they just got yelled at by the men "bad guys" so they were out of the dream for the most part.

Plus there was this very weird thing about going to work late at night, very, very late. Was I driving to Boston? The drive was clearly on Highway 93 South. Then, getting stopped on the highway because for some reason it was closed. Waiting at a rest area and meeting up with a group of women who needed a ride. I think I even knew a couple of them. So we all piled back into my VW Beetle - light blue - like I had for my first car, eons ago - and headed "home." We got into a car accident on an on-ramp - on a steep uphill on-ramp - like that would even be possible. It was more like a roller coaster, actually. When we got to the very, very top, I flipped the car - IN THE SAND! We were completely off the road/roller coaster and in sand. I don't mean sand on the side of the road. I mean sand. Soft sand, though, like at the beach. Everyone was fine. Shaken up. Gee. Who would have guessed? We got rescued by a group of misfits who led us straight into the hands of the "bad guys." Only the misfits didn't know it then.

The "bad guys" weren't "bad guys," at first. They tried to be our friends. They wanted us to sell magazines door-to-door [Newsweek - of all magazines!] and they made me pay for 42 subscriptions up front on my credit card. $6,935.00. What? Sixty-Nine Hundred and something dollars for 42 subscriptions of Newsweek?!? [Nope. Not 40 subscriptions or 45, but 42. It started out with 21, but I said something about that being too easy so they doubled the amount of subscriptions we had to sell.] When I protested paying for the subscriptions up front is when we all got locked in a garage... Like a car repair garage. Someone had a cell phone - not me - and that is how DH came to try to rescue us - but he was far outnumbered and got thrown in the garage with us.

Oh. Did I mention that there was one of those cattle air-pump-killing-guns like in the movie "No Country for Old Men?" One of the "bad guys" had it and was shooting up oil tankers that would drive by with it.

Yeah.

If anyone even wants to try deciphering that wildness for me, have at it.

In the meantime, no more patches on at night. And if quitting smoking is going to be this bad, I will not be a non- smoker. Oh. My. Gosh.

I feel a nap coming on today. I really - REALLY - did not sleep very well last night.