Perfect Moment Monday: Sleepy

February 16, 2009

I had another cupcake moment.

Thursday was Cycle Day 1, so on Friday I went into the RE’s office Too Damn Early for bloodwork and ultrasound. I had been up past 3 a.m. working, so I was even sleepier than I usually am for early morning appointments.

I drove home to catch another hour of sleep before heading to my first meeting at Old Job.

During that hour of sleep, I had a dream. Highlights:

  • I was driving home from the RE’s office. I was so sleepy (have you ever dreamed that you were sleepy? first time for me) that I drove into a wall of someone’s house — just nicked it, really — and sent their balcony crashing to the ground. I went into the house to explain the situation and apologize to the residents. They were very understanding.
  • The little boy — around age 5 — in the family saw that I had several boxes of Girl Scout cookies, and asked if he could have one. (They looked like Do-Si-Dos, but we were calling them Tagalongs — some peanut butter Girl Scout cookie confusion. In real life we only ever buy Samoas and Thin Mints, but remember that this was a dream.) I said that he could have a cookie, then I remembered that I was saving them and rescinded my offer. It then occurred to me, “You just drove into their house. Don’t be a jerk.” I gave him a whole box.

Pictured: Tagalongs. Much better than Do-Si-Dos. I bought them to show you, but I don’t want them to go to waste so I suppose I’ll need to eat them.

Tagalongs

  • Back to the dream. I went home, eager to tell DH about the house crashing incident. Our house was incredibly full of his friends. (Echoes IVF #2 when half a dozen houseguests descended on our house from retrieval day through transfer day.) I could barely squeeze a spot onto the couch, and when I did, people’s elbows kept bumping me. (I really don’t like to be jostled.) I was trying to tell DH about the crash but couldn’t get a word in. I was still sooo sleepy, and wanted both to talk to DH and to take a nap.
  • We then adjourned to the kitchen. DH’s mother showed up and declared her intention to have a barbecue. (IRL she constantly wants to have a barbecue, but it drives me nuts because I never get enough to eat. It’s possible for a vegetarian to eat enough at a barbecue, just not at MIL’s house.) She starts producing platter after platter of raw meat. (I don’t allow meat to be cooked in my house, and I don’t allow meat to touch most of my dishes. If someone wants to bring in a sandwich and eat it off of a designated meat plate, that’s fine.) Platter after platter kept appearing from nowhere. All sorts of raw meat — sausage links, steaks, burgers, whole chickens… I counted 9 huge platters before she switched to platters of raw seafood — entire fish from head to tail, filets, lobsters. I kept getting angrier and angrier, exhausted from lack of sleep plus revved up from the crash and frustrated by the inability to tell anyone. Once there were a dozen platters on the counter, I screamed, “Stop it, you fucking shrew whore!” (Mother-in-law issues, anyone?)

I was just about to get a response from my mother-in-law when the alarm went off, and I woke up. I was pretty riled up from the dream, but after a few seconds it dawned on me — none of the events in the dream actually happened. Immediate sense of calm. I was still sleepy all day, and I had all sorts of annoyances from the insurance company and a repairman. But, I kept reminding myself that the dream was just a dream. “There’s nobody in my house!” “There’s no meat in my house!” “I haven’t (yet) called my MIL any terrible names!” “I am sleepy but I haven’t crashed into any houses!” Compared to the dream, everything about the rest of the day was fantastic.

Perfect MomentLori from Weebles Wobblog is a dream come true. No, not this kind of dream, the good kind.

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Dreamy

September 19, 2008

I had a dream last night that combined several of my interests and several of my fears. There is no coherent narrative, just snippets of scenes.

I went to the pottery studio, and all of my in-progress pieces had been thrown away.

I was vacationing in the Maldives with my in-laws. My siblings-in-law were insufferable complainers. The “exclusive” island turned out to be overrun by rambunctious 14-year-olds.

Angelina was having sex with someone who wasn’t Brad, then midway realized that she might conceive a child of dubious paternity.

Angelina’s adultery was interrupted by an urgent hunger for muffins. She opened a drawer of the hotel dresser and found a marvelous array of muffins.

Scene from a Family Vacation

September 2, 2008

A few days ago, I mentioned the impending visit of most of DH’s immediate family and the many steps I had to take to clear the house of all TTC and infertility evidence.

They are here, and so far (knock on wood) no one has come across anything incriminating.

I have also mentioned in many posts how we have kept IF a secret from all of our relatives.

I just had an interesting conversation in the car with my mother-in-law. She is DH’s stepmother, not his mother. Previously, in comparison to others and on her own merits, I have mentioned his mother in unflattering terms. In contrast, DH’s stepmother is actually great. A little bossy, but great.

Today she and I were in the car, and we had the following conversation.

Step-MIL, wistfully: I had a dream last night that you told me you were pregnant.

Me, in my head: Ack! Okay, let’s see. I am definitely not pregnant right now, so I can just tell the truth, or one particular aspect of the truth. Go for it.

Me, matter of factly: Well I promise you that I am not.

Step-MIL: Oh, I know, I know.

Step-MIL’s overtone, or at least what I wishfully heard as the overtone: I know that you’re not remotely considering children and I should not bother you at all about it and I should be respectful and refrain from bringing up the topic since my cute little comments about how much I would love to have a grandchild obviously will not divert you from your honorable devotion to your career and the fabulous adventures around the world that you and my stepson have all the time and which are not possible for me right now due to my children requiring all of my time and finances.

Me, in my head: Phew. But change the subject before the conversation turns around and starts going horribly wrong!

Me: Of course, if your dream had been about [her 16-year-old daughter who is a possible sociopath], it would have been a nightmare! Ha ha!

Step-MIL: Ugh. Don’t even say that. So anyway, I tried this new recipe for rice pilaf…

Conversation successfully diverted, crisis averted. Only a couple more days of incessant family togetherness to go.