It’s official. Dreams of fellow bloggers are my new norm. No point analyzing it. I already know I’m weird.
Ah, but to post another entry on blogger dreams or not? With one, it’s funny; with two, it’s cute, but a third? Might be a bit like houseguests and fish—after three days they both start to stink. Or in this case, after three posts.
So maybe this will be the last one in case I stink you off my website. You be the judge. Please take the poll below and tell me whether I’ve exceeded my welcome. Be honest. You won’t hurt my feelings.
But now, aren’t you curious which one of you interrupted my sleep most recently?
This time it was Perfecting Motherhood.*
Oh, don’t let that innocuous name fool you, nor her undoubtedly cute French accent as a native Parisian now residing in sunny San Diego. (Hey, Ms. Motherhood, how come you get Paris and San Diego and I get Cleveland?) Because not only did she make me work in this dream, she torpedoed me awake with a palpitation-inducing fearfest. One that required ambulation, a drink of water, and a check of the door locks before returning to bed.
Here’s what went down. The reverie began pleasantly enough. You see, Perfecting Motherhood and I, along with our gaggle of children, embarked on a lovely sea cruise. Who doesn’t hanker for fruity beverages and group deck-dancing? Well, this introvert for one, but I digress…
Luckily for us, we scored two spacious, adjoining cabins, though this connectedness would prove my downfall. As I frolicked in my room, trying to ignore the hairballs and body debris left behind by others, Perfecting Motherhood popped in and with a sultry French smile, informed me that her ducklings, who, by some mysterious nocturnal logarithmic process, had now quadrupled in number, were my charge for the evening. She had dancing, drinking, and gambling to attend to. Ironic blog name she chose, no?
The next thing I knew—as so often happens in dreams—dozens of unruly children ran amok in my suddenly walnut-sized room.
Oh, but that’s not the worst part. Far from it. As I turned around and caught my reflection in the cabin mirror, to my horror and disgust, I discovered I now donned a purple, sequined leotard accessorized with spiffy black tights and silver tap shoes. Say what?!
And lest you mistake that for the nightmare, hold on. After my hideous wardrobe discovery, I once again spun around. Only this time it wasn’t bad 80’s Broadway garb that greeted me. This time it was a leering, knife-wielding fellow, seconds away from plunging an eight-inch blade into my chest.
And if that doesn’t wake a leotard-clad, child-sitting dreamer from her slumber, I don’t know what will.
The question remains, however. Which one of you male bloggers wielded that knife?
In case you’d like to comment on this drivel but need a concrete question: Have you ever been on a cruise? If so, which cruise line? If different ones, which one is your favorite?
*My thanks to Perfecting Motherhood for putting up with my shenanigans. In reality, she is a dedicated and kind blogger, and I’m sure one heck of a mother.
Cartoon images from Microsoft Clip Art