Dream Babble

First off. For those who didn’t happen to go to dinner with us at… the SantaCafe, in Santa Fe, there was a thrilling part of the evening that I think perhaps only Brad and I appreciated. While waiting for our table, staring at the well in the floor that you could walk on (thanks to thick plastic covering it), a man who was certainly no waiter came in to show us to our table. Truly, my jaw dropped upon seeing him. And anyone familiar with Final Fantasy would have been equally (perhaps more so) shocked. This man had incredibly long silver hair, bound in a loose ponytail, with spiky bits around his face. His face itself was angular, and he was very tall and lanky. His clothes, while technically normal, were very chic distressed, but his jacket emphasized really sharp, broad shoulders and a slim waist.

What I’m saying is, Sephiroth had walked into the room.

Seriously.

Jennie and I are having a weigh off while she’s in Connecticut. Results will be determined once she’s back. This should be fun.

I really enjoy listening to NPR while working around the house. It’s so perfect, and I’m really enjoying it. I looove Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me. I listened to Fresh Air some, but found the topics of some shows…drab. Or the people who were talking about them made them drab. So I default to the amusing and lighthearted Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me. Give me recommendations for other NPR shows to watch. ‘Cause I really don’t know anything about them.

I love, when playing Minesweeper, uncovering a square that’s a seven. I say, “Ooh, seven.”

Okay, and now for the bulk of this entry. End here, all you who hate my dream babbling, ‘cause I’m not going to abbreviate this. (While, there will be some slight cropping of the story. For my privacy. ‘Cause I’m not just going to reveal absolutely everything about my dreams. Anyways.)

I’m happy that I posted that M.C. Escher quote earlier, because how true it turned out to be last night. This dream really isn’t going to make any sense, or be dramatic at all like it was in my sleep, but oh well, I will still try.

I was in Antigonish (my university’s town), and it was the night before classes were going to start. I took all my stuff to my dorm room, but after getting it in there, remembered that I had turned down on campus housing, and had no apartment, and this room must have been given to someone else by now. However, I thought, I’ll just leave my stuff here until I can find an apartment to move it all into. So, while wandering around Antigonish, looking for a place, I run into my friends Kenny and Olivia with some of their friends, and they all agree to help me find a place. Kenny and the rest get distracted by something and move on (I’m fairly certain they were drunk), but Olivia, who was wearing this cute little coat, and had a notepad and pen, continued to help me. I found three promising houses with empty rooms on St. Ninian St. (a great location) and Olivia walked with me up to the first house. It looked like it was partially run as a B&B, and was very old-fashioned old lady doily-ish. (doily? sp?)

So we knock on the door. This fortyish woman opens the door, but she ages to seventy-five as she steps onto the porch. I thought that was weird, but asked about the room. As she was talking, this old man steps outside onto the porch to see what was going on, and sat quietly listening. Olivia has been taking notes about the information the old lady has been giving this entire time. A couple of minutes later, this thirty-five year old well-dressed man in a suit (1950s-style) steps outside, with neatly combed hair, wearing thick-rimmed, black glasses. The neatly dressed man, the old lady tells us, is a serial killer, and is her nephew, but he’s a dear boy. I start getting freaked out, and Olivia is giving me weird looks. I look on the house, and there are three papers, each with one of these people’s photos on it, warning that they are very dangerous. I get more freaked out, the neatly dressed man sees this, and goes inside. The old lady says he’s probably just going to get his knife, and he’ll be back outside in a moment. So I run away from the house screaming, and Olivia slowly follows, still with a concerned look on her face.

When we are far enough away from the house, I stop running, turn to Olivia, and ask if she could believe how insane and freaky those people were. She tells me that I’m the one she’s concerned about being insane. Apparently I had walked up to that house, someone came out and was talking to me about it, and I had been hallucinating this old woman, old man, and their nephew. And she was going to have me committed to an institution, because I was insane, and she’d been taking notes to document the entire thing.

As you can imagine, I was sad to find out in my dream that I was, in fact, insane. Since when does your mind lie to you like that in your dream???? Come on.