Dog Tired

Woke from a dream where I was running a race with a greyhound – a dog. Let’s take a closer look at the stone absurdity here. I was running, ME. I wasn't strolling nor triking but seriously hot footing it IN A RACE (fer fuck's sake!) with a famously speedy canine. Now, if'n I was a dog, I'd undoubtedly be a basset hound. Slow moving and prone to nap – NOT race.

That totes cinched it, this was a dream. My nocturnal moviolas are, more often than not, surreally whacked.

The fast pup and I were near the finish line. It was clear the pooch was gonna best me. This made me stop in my track, laughing. Of COURSE he would win. Even in this Dream World, where I could foot it at a fast clip, I knew that competing against a greyhound was an hilariously doomed enterprise.

In any case, I decided to pour on the speed so’s my last place finish wouldn’t be TOO terribly embarrassing. I rounded the last turn when I was seized by a mammoth heart attack. I died but, ya know, only for a mo. Long enough though that the event’s organizer called in a tall, ghoulishly lugubrious gent, dressed all in black to take me away.

An aside: Is wearing all black in the coroner regs or was this dude just goth? How come ya never see coroners kitted out in tie dye, huh? A little color couldn't hurt, ya know.

I leapt up off the ground in a panic, insisting “I’m not dead yet! I’m not dead yet!” Mister Goth Coroner seemed disappointed and allowed that he’d be back. (yeah, all Terminator-like)

Wut? I’m gonna croak again? No, Buddy, NOT today!

He wasn’t paying me a bit of attention. Nope, he was determined to do his job whether the body in question was dead or not. As the house lights came up we witnessed our hero (moi!), all rápidamente and shit, making good her escape.

Despite this being a dream of death (but not a long, all-permanent death), it was fairly lighthearted. Still, I could NOT get back to Sleepy-Bye Land. What to do when sleep’s all MIA and I don’t have urgent-due-time layout/design work in house (for the first time in an entire motherfucking month!)? I cleaned.

Guess what I found? In that big stack of unopened mail by my desk two, TWO, fat checks Huzzah!!! These are checks I’d been expecting. In my overwhelmed spazoidness, I’d wondered why I’d not received them. I had! When overburdened and stressed with work, I tend not to keep up with other important details of life. Like mail. Bills do get paid…eventually. I guess, after a bank run this morning, there’ll be buckos to pay those big scary bills.

Not sleeping – sometimes it’s productive and shit.