Saturday, May 5, 2007

A Temperature-Induced Geek Dream or Why My Subconscious Hates Me and How I Complain About It

So, I was fairly useless today. I slept late, went to Target, did some junk around the house and took a nap. Not in that order, though. I love napping. It's one of my favorite things. But whenever I nap in the middle of the day, especially when it's overly warm like it was today, I have really strange dreams. Today was no exception. I dreamed that Sylar from Heroes was menacing me and a friend. (For those who aren't giant geeks, Sylar is a bad guy who kills other heroes, eats their brains and steals their super powers. He's quite scary.) I was rather blase about this in the dream while my friend was freaking out. I don't remember who the friend was in the dream, but it was probably Mame, so we'll go with that. She can yell at me later.* The reason I wasn't concerned about the evil person trying to kill me? I was SURE that my boyfriend would save us. So sure that I was bitching that the random snack machine that was oddly in the room with us didn't have any Chipwiches.** Ok. Problems with this turn of events include:
  1. Well, that's rather un-feminist of me. Generally, I'd prefer to have dreams that include ME roundhouse-kicking the bad guy in the face, not waiting for a big, strong man to do it.
  2. I don't HAVE a boyfriend.
  3. And while I've dated some nice guys, I've NEVER dated a guy who could fight off a super hero. I mean, really, who has? Apparently, in this dream, I was dating Dean Winchester. Or Jack Bauer. And of course, my subconscious neglected to have them make an appearance. Whatever, Subconscious. THANKS.
  4. And finally? Said ass-kicking boyfriend NEVER SHOWED UP. I woke up just as the bad guy escaped from the chair we'd tied him to. (Oh, yeah. We tied him to a chair. BONDAGE! Heh.) THANKS, IMAGINARY SUBCONSCIOUS BOYFRIEND.

Boy, Freud would have a FIELD DAY with me. Heh.

*As Mame mentioned in her very first post ever, she routinely yells at me for things I do in her dreams. Or will give me the silent treatment. Ask her sometime about the "Eddie Izzard Incident." She's STILL mad at me. So, now she can be mad at me for endangering her in MY dreams. And for my deadbeat imaginary boyfriend. Sorry, Mame!

**Seriously. What kind of snack machine that dispenses ice cream treats DOESN'T have Chipwiches? The mysteries of the human mind...

1 comment:

Mom said...

Not only are you a geek but you can't spell (2X) or is it your subconscious?

Mom