Whenever I wake up from a super LSD-trippy dream, I shake my husband awake so he can analyze it. He’s my real life dream book (very different from dream boat, which is saved for my pretend boyfriend man-hybrid: Colin Firth-Bardem-Owen.) Do you have one of those? An encyclopedia of cataloged references that supposedly give, in my case, a reason why Charlize Theron drove a bus containing a my camera bag, purse, wallet and Xbox (not mine!) and then crashed it into the sea, leaving me yelling at her because I would have to cancel my debit card (second time this week!).
The thing is, whenever I relay my dreams to Mike, it’s never as lucid (or as interesting) as when I had them, and they usually include the words, “like,” “like you know,” and “totally” so my poor husband wakes up to many of the following:
“I was back in high school and wearing the school uniform, only I had to debate 15-year-olds. And they kept singing that Peter Gabriel song, the one that I don’t understand so I always sing ‘something something’ whenever I don’t know the lyrics. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?”
“Someone was trying to steal my Nintendo Wii. But remember how you said we couldn’t have any video games in this house because you didn’t want Nathan to play video games and so like, WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?”
“It was sooo weird! I don’t remember any of it though. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?”
Do any of you obsess about what your dreams mean? Do you analyze the deeper truths as to why Horatio Caine is hunting you down when really this all means that you shouldn’t watch CSI Miami before bed?