Weird dreams

I am writing this here because 1) I like to overshare and 2) I want to have it written down somewhere so that I don't forget it later.

The last couple of nights I've been having these wild, cinematic dreams. Last night's was by far the weirdest and worst. It was so bad that I woke myself up from it several times only to go right back to it when I fell back to sleep. It also woke the Kid up because apparently I was yelling out in my sleep.

It started off with the beginning of a dream I've had a couple of times. I am back in high school and I am having a party in my bedroom closet, only my closet is a huge walk-in. Everybody is dressed fancy and prom like and leaning up against the clothes hanging on the walls. All of a sudden some popular girl (which is weird cause I was a popular girl and never afraid of losing status) starts going though my giant shoe collection. She pulls them out and keeps saying "they're the right brand but they're ugly". I get pissed off "I don't see you wearing those brands of shoes".

Then everyone is gone and I am in the closet holding a tiny "rabbit" only the rabbit looks more like a hamster. I name her Ruby and she is the sweetest, softest thing I have ever held in my life. I don't ever want to put her down, but I have some construction work that needs to be done on the closet. Some giant famous basketball player in a basketball uniform(I don't know which one) agrees to do the work for me, he just needs me to help him move the lumber for the job into the closet. Ruby is terrified that I'll put her down. Her soft furry body won't stop shaking from fright. I decide to put her in the bathroom sink because I think the basin will hold her for the few seconds I need to move stuff. But she escapes and scurries into a crack in the wall. When I come back for her, she is still shaking and scared and I can't make her stop.

(this is where I first woke up- or actually woke myself up. I was freaking out about not being able to fix Ruby and my conscious brain dragged me to awakeness)

Next, it is winter and I come out of the closet into a neighborhood much like where I grew up. It has mountains and dangerous hairpin turns for roads. There is a boy there who in real life has the exact same first, middle and last name as my brother minus one letter. (The entire time we were in school people confused the two of them but they were so different I didn't understand how they could be so stupid over one letter.) I have on ice skates, but I haven't skated since I was a little kid. It's just like riding a bike though and very shortly I am doing complicated twirls and turns on the ice.

Then it's summer and I am marching by a lake carrying a flag. The boy with the name like my brother walks towards me and as I go to hug him hello and give him a kiss on the cheek, he pushes me away. It's very important that the flag I am carrying stay straight up. The flag is some nautical warning to the boats on the lake.

I wake myself up again, this time pissed because WTF was up with that boy. Damn I was just trying to be friends.

When I fall back to sleep I am at my family's house. All my cousins are there (Hi Wonder!) and so is the Kid. I am getting ready to take the Kid to the airport so he can make his annual visit to Atlanta. He's flown alone plenty of times and I'm not worried. I drop him off at the airport and then park a little ways away so I can watch his plane take off. I sit on the side of a hill in the sunshine and all of a sudden everyone from the airport starts running towards me. Something has gone horribly wrong. I am looking for the Kid, but he doesn't come. I wait for a very long time after everyone else has left and suddenly he walks up behind me. He is coming from the wrong direction.

I can tell that something is wrong, but he won't talk to me. I go through his backpack and start pulling out papers and drawings. There is a cartoon in his bag that teaches kids how to be terrorists and suicide bombers and why that is a good thing. There is also a sheet of paper, the newsprint type with the big lines that little kids first use to learn to write their letters. In the Kid's handwriting is a note about how he is becoming a suicide bomber. It's his suicide note. But underneath his writing I can see the carelessly erased letters that he was made to copy to write the letter. I beg him to talk to me. When he doesn't I call the FBI to tell them that I know what happened at th airport and that they should be looking for someone who is turning Unaccompanied Minors (airline speak for kids flying alone) into suicide bombers and terrorists. The operator on the phone seems bored with my call and says they already know.

I go back to trying to make the Kid talk to me, but he won't. I am terrified that I can't change his mind if he won't talk to me.

At this point , the kid wakes me up because I was screaming out loud. He promises me he's not a terrorist, and I tell him that the worst part was that he just wouldn't talk to me.

So now you know, I am a complete freak. Next time I might tell you how I once sold my soul to the devil in a dream, and the devil was Nicholas Cage.