I have always been a vivid dreamer. Most of the time they're really fun and I genuinely do get to fulfill my daytime fantasies. For example, I have been to a neighborhood BBQ with Brad & Angelina because they lived in the condo above me, I have partied hardy with Ashton Kutcher in a city I can only assume was NYC, and I once held hands with, and possibly kissed, Harvey from Sabrina the Teenage Witch (back in the 90's, of course)... anyone still remember his name?

However, lately my dreams have been dominated by the anxiety-ridden motif of Wedding Day Blunders. I have dreamt that my makeup and hairstylist both were no shows, the photographer missed practically the entire wedding, and the seashell place card holders were spilling uncontrollably out of their container with each step that I took.
I know they are wedding jitters and I have been assured by recently married brides and even moms of brides that they all had these same exact dreams and felt the same exact anxiety... but it still sucks to wake up feeling worried, frazzled, and more tired than you did when you went to bed!
But in the spirit of ill-fashioned dreams... I decided to include a short excerpt from another one of my literary projects. This is an actual account of one of my dreams back when I was still working at the Medical Examiner's Office. I guess I'm just one of those people who can't shut their brains off... but at least things are getting sorted out by my subconscious while I sleep... I just have a very loud and theatrical subconscious. Figures.
This one was truly a masterpiece because it exhumed buried Zero Period Band Practice anxiety from over 10 years ago!!! I wonder what I will uncover next...
Goodnight, world. Sweet dreams! =)
The
sky was nowhere in sight as the sunrise lost the battle against the thick veil
of fog. I rode over the bumpy field,
steadily passing the evenly spaced white lines.
The quad jerked and twisted against the uneven terrain. Two platform trailers rattled angrily behind,
threatening to throw off its cargo. An
array of percussive instruments somehow remained on board and tightly packed together. Quite
a curious accomplishment since they were not held down by any anchors. The instruments themselves remained unerringly
silent, as though they refused to acknowledge this undignified journey.
I
didn’t need to check my watch to know I had about two minutes before I absolutely
needed to get the trailers perfectly lined up at the front of the field,
straddling the center line. Six forty,
six forty, six forty. Must be on the
field and ready to go by six forty.
Otherwise, Mr. J would make everyone desperately aware of his
displeasure. Six thirty-nine… crap.
I
whizzed by something small and dark on the ground. The misty air was just saturated enough to
make me quickly lose whatever sight I had of it. Something triggered me to squeeze the brakes
and the trailers all but crumpled into each other. I swung myself cleanly off the seat in one swift
movement. I couldn’t spare a moment’s
worth of concern for the wreckage of chimes, broken drumheads, and assorted
mallets. My attention was completely
focused on the curious object that laid only feet from my, well, feet.
A
few sure steps brought me close enough to bend over and pick it up. It was about the size of a honeydew melon but
more elongated. Densely weighted for
something its size, almost like a medicine ball. I rubbed it and the prickly fuzz felt good
against my palms. I looked down at the
thing and sudden recognition struck me as I turned it over.
I
intuitively knew what it was even before I saw the distinct profile. Two dark ridges overhung the softly protected
mounds resting on either side of the pronounced ridge. An apex, a sharp cliff, and then the slight
opening, held drily ajar, exposing the deep cavern.
A
human head.
I
needed to find some sort of refrigeration for the mystery head before anything
else could be done about finding the rest of its owner. I hadn’t noticed that I was walking during the
whole discovery process and looked up to find myself at the doorway of an
administrative building.
The lobby was dimly
illuminated by the grim light of the gray morning. Ambient sounds of breaking ocean waves wafted
through the hallways as I walked past empty offices toward the employee break room. I held the cranium against my side like some
sort of athlete sauntering off the court after a pretty good game.
I
found the break room but the door was locked.
I could see a few people milling about through the floor to ceiling
glass panel next to the door. They were
holding coffee mugs in their hands and were laughing at each other's remarks. I despised their mindless gaiety while I remained
stuck outside the door holding a head, a fairly heavy one at that, while being
pummeled by soothing ocean sounds.
They
ignored my knocks. In fact, they seemed steadfastly
oblivious of my existence and the human head I was waving at them. I tried to call out to them but my voice was
drowned by the crashing waves and screaming seagulls.
The
absurdity of the whole situation was overwhelming. I turned around to leave and everything
turned black.
Simultaneously, I woke up.
(Note: the ocean waves... is my sound machine alarm clock)