Dreams

Do you dream a lot? Do you remember your dreams?

I dream every night and I usually remember at least a few pieces of them. More often than not I remember quite a bit of them. One of the ladies at work keeps a dream dictionary in her office because she is convinced that dreams mean certain things. I agree that there is usually something behind them, but I don’t feel that you can open a dream dictionary and it will be able to tell you exactly what your dream means. I would be interested in hearing what a psychoanalyst would have to say about my dreams. lol. Would you like a taste?

This past weekend I dreamed that my ex showed up and managed to somehow talk me into having dinner with him and his mother. His mother is the sweetest lady and so I agreed. He made pasta for us and when I asked him if mine was gluten free he said that it was. I ate it and really enjoyed it. I asked him what brand of pasta that had been and that’s when he informed me that it hadn’t been gluten free. He said that if he couldn’t have me, then nobody could! So he was trying to kill me with whole wheat pasta. Luckily I woke up before the effects hit me.

The next interesting dream I had was kind of weird. It started out when I was in the middle of a run. Now, the weird part about this is that if you know me you know that I don’t run. At all. Yet I keep having dreams that I’m running as a stress reliever. This time I was on a business trip to Chancellorsville, VA. I don’t know why because there’s not a valid reason for work to send me there, but there I was. It was May and it was GORGEOUS! As I was jogging along I thought to myself, “I need to convince Jay to move here with me!”

The last really memorable dream I had involved Glenn Beck. Now, if you know me you know that I love him. I listen to him every morning and I have a subscription to his site GBTV. In my dream Glenn was in my area because he was doing some kind of a special here. For some reason I was picked as an expert for his show. I’m not sure what my expertise was, but I was just happy to be part of it. We were standing around, waiting for our cue to go out on stage, and he was complaining about all of the makeup they had put on him. I told him that at least he was comfortable in his clothes. They told me that I had to wear black slacks and a button up white blouse, and I wasn’t comfortable in them because I’m so used to wearing skirts most of the time. He was intrigued by this, but couldn’t really comment because he was being dragged off to somewhere else for a moment. In the meantime I was sent off to another room to eat lunch before the taping of the special began. I sat down at the table and the server entered the room. It was a girl who had been my high school class valedictorian! I was surprised because the last I knew she was going to college to become a statistician. She served us our first course, and it was this weird salad. We were in a pretty fancy place and apparently the chef fancied himself to be some kind of gourmet guy. I couldn’t eat it because he had used shredded wheat in it. The entree came next and it was a piece of sad-looking chicken and a piece of breaded fish. There were crumbs all over! Glenn entered the room and complained about the chicken (apparently that’s what every place served him on this tour) and so the waitress tried to explain that he could order something else. Except, she was using this really horrible fake French accent. I couldn’t take it anymore and said, “Jen! Stop it with the accent. You don’t need to try to impress us!” And that’s when I woke up. *sigh* I was enjoying the dream because a) Glenn Beck was there and b) I knew that whatever it was that I was providing to the program that it was something I was proud of and gave me a sense of accomplishment. Too bad my real job couldn’t do that for me. lol

This entry was posted in Dreams and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.