Dreamin

I must be dreamin, or am I really lying here with you....

Just reminded myself of this really cheesy song mum used to sing on the karaoke set-up we had in our kind of basement/rumpus room Actually it was the song she was singing when we walked up to the front of the chapel at the funeral, which always really fucked me off because I liked the idea of walking up the aisle to it one day, as cheesy as it was. Never mind, the idea of eloping to Italy is looking more and more attractive the older I get. Or becoming a nun. I was talking to a friend about what great nuns we'd make yesterday. Not the hard ass type. The I'm so happy and love orphans so much I don't need sex type. Like Maria. Hmmm, well that didn't work out so good for her though did it.....

It's just after 5:40am and I'm wide awake with precious little to say. So blog it she says! Ridiculous. Ridicurous. Went to bed too early and apparently the onset of old-age brings with it a reduction in the requisite amount of sleep as well as the more familiar phenomenon of failing memory.

So the dream: Names shall remain confidential. But me, sister, old high school friend, contemporary flatmate, ex flatmate and another ex flatmate's current flatmate were trying to get South, and had missed the bus. Literally. So we magicked up a car. I'm really good at problem solving/taking charge in my dreams. The car was constructed out of those great big wooden bins that you empty fruit in to (like kiwifruit) and I felt kind of sorry for the guys that were trying to build them in my dream while I used my new found telekinetic ability to rip them to shreds and make what at first looked like a tonka truck, but when I brought out ex-flatmates current flatmate to show them it was this souped up jaffa red Delorian type puppy that for some reason I drove (ofcourse I drove) from the back seat. And I wheeled it out of the garage to Grease theme music. But instead of heading south to make our deadline (oh that's it I think we were going to catch the ferry, must be some abel tas flashback) we all headed to a fancy dress party on ice. In the jaffa red Delorian. That had magical items (stationery) in the ash tray. Which makes sense seeing as I don't smoke. I can't remember what I wore other than a blonde wig (how inspired considering) but I know ex-flatmate went as a lawyer and as part of his costume had prepared opening submissions for his own trial. Probably quite wise. There was a performance on ice (ofcourse) before the party began, some giant teenage boy with disproportionately large crane-like hands dancing around Walt Disney styles and then somewhere around this point I woke up as I think I'd been crushing my hand and had out of control pins and needless. Which I learnt playing Cranium the other night is also known as formication. Educational I know. The dream also carried the characteristic qualities of all my dreams with some baddies; me trying to blow shit up, usually the baddies, before people, usually my whanau, get hurt. The details are hazy.

Does anyone else try and change their dreams from inside, when they are not happy with the direction they are taking? I can't sleep all that deeply huh.....
Fuck - 6:20am. Might read my book for awhile.......