Oh Lawdy!

Da Goddess @ 12:57

I just woke up from a crazy ass dream. I was pregnant at 53 with no oven in which my bun could bake. The father was a now-deceased man who was remarkably still alive, but having his genitals burned off (not because of the baby, but because he felt he could do more “Good Works” without them). My best friend and also geriatric preggo was confined to bed with me in the desert, stuck between two worlds…like more desert or non-desert-but-still-desert-like. Bunches of other things are happening, some of which are in a restaurant. We’re being filmed for a TV show. I don’t even understand the insanity around me. Suddenly, I’m holding my baby, a baby who can’t really hear, while narrating my work in the hospital as a nurse who functions more like a waitress or a waitress who functions as a nurse. I really can’t tell. But I know I’m here only because this is where geriatric preggos go to get the best care.

After I awaken from this madness, I go to the bathroom — because needs must, natch — and sit down on a damp toilet seat. The seat is damp because WHY THE FUCK NOT?! This actually happens a few times a week (sometimes a few times a day) when weather conditions are perfect for these sort of (I’m guessing) ghostly hijinks. The inside of the lid is also full of condensation and I’m eternally grateful I’ve had no need to lean back against it because it would be COLD and I don’t need cold and damp against my skin. Especially not cold and damp against my skin from a toilet.

I’ve never had this happen with a toilet before. I’m beginning to give serious weight to the ghost argument at this point. I think it’s the same ghost pretending to be the creaky moany-groany weathervane on the roof above. The same ghost who doesn’t allow me to finish the house in any way, shape, or form.

What do you think I should offer this magnificent but mischievous spectral doer of shenanigans?


  1. Milk and cookies, like we do for Santa. Everybody loves cookies! ;)

    Last night…well, after I was awake at 4:00a…. I dreamed that Arthur and I were on vacation, in a hotel with all three dogs (sad). I walked into one bedroom and saw a gator come out from beneath the bed… a small one, to be sure, but still. Gator!
    I ran into a different room with Artie and shut the door. Realizing the dogs weren’t with us I freaked out by Arthur was laughing.
    I opened the door and called, but they didn’t come.

    Dream brought to us by roughly 20 caramels and the anxiety I feel leaving them in a “spa” over Christmas. ;)

    Comment by pam — 2019/11/04 @ 09:10

  2. OMG! I’d forgotten about my gator! Yes, there was one in my dream. Wonder if it was the same one you had. You know, like there’s one alligator allocated to dreamland?

    I’ll try the milk and cookies.

    In the meantime, keep an eye on the dogs until you head out next month! Also tell Arthur to stop laughing and go rescue the pups!

    Comment by Da Goddess — 2019/11/04 @ 22:41

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