Sleep Tight.

Last night could best be described as A Series of Unconscious Events. Or, How My Brain Likes to Taunt Me Through My Dreams. I had one of those dream-laden nights marked by a series of brief waking up moments. Usually, I sleep through the night, and thus, do not remember my dreams. Anyway, last night my brain was channel surfing through my unconscious mind for an interesting night of viewing. Let's analyze:

I'm conducting an interview for my job, but I drove to this company to interview 8 people at a time. My suit is a tuxedo, but I'm not wearing all of it. The plastic is still over the white shirt (while I'm wearing it), it's not tucked in, I only have on one shoe, it's all a mess, and all the interviewees are there to see me. So with my microphone (yes) I turn it into a comedy routine. Then my co-interviewer starts asking questions, but we had never prepared what questions to ask. And one interviewee heckles us for a bad first question. Then a few additional interviewees show up late. It's a disaster. The entire dream, I have this sinking sense that time is running short.

Then I'm in Vegas with a coworker and my Welsh boss, JP. As we're riding up this escalator, he tells us we must separate because it would be inappropriate for a boss to hang out with his staff. So he ditches us next to this indoor roller coaster ride. We find him later, and he pretends not to recognize us.

Then I'm wearing a yellow hoodie underneath a jean jacket (forgive me), and I'm running to the mall in the rain. I pass this group of students who must be on the school track team. One of them yells to me as we pass, "Hey you look and sound like Skinny Lennox." I know that I've been told this before. Just so you know, in my dream, Skinny Lennox is someone famous, an abstract character I believe, whom, while popular, I am not aware of. I yell back, "So I'm told!" My friend who is magically next to me tells me the Skinny Lennox character is voiced by Madonna. Madonna?? I sound like Madonna!? Perplexed and a bit pissed off, I continue toward the mall.

Inside the mall, I enter this very nice furniture store and feel immediately out of place (remember what I'm wearing). I notice my shoes aren't tied, so I bend down to tie the laces. Meanwhile, everyone is being helped but me. Nearby, an associate approaches a browsing customer and says, "May I help you? Don't be alarmed by my British accent," and in a bemused tone he adds, "I'm not a spy agent of the Empire." Say what?? They laugh and walk off toward some furniture. I'm too self-conscious to look around because I feel so out of place.

Then at my house, I'm starting up the internet to show my dad something. Suddenly, all this gay porn flashes up, and I embarrassingly and quickly try to get rid of it, but it keeps coming back on the screen. I do this horrible job of trying to pretend it isn't there, and all I can say is -- Awkward!

In the same or separate sequence, my dad and I are at my house and this guy walks up to my front window and looks in, like he's scoping out the place. We both stand up to make our presence known and he smiles and walks off. Trying to play the unsuspecting owner, I open the front door and ask if I can help him. He asks this weird question I can't remember that sounds like he made it up. We start discussing something and I open my mailbox to feel around inside. He asks for my address, and I don't want to give it to him. I say, it's here on my mailbox, 1234. He points to the neighboring houses and argues it can't be my number, it's out of sequence. Then I say, "Someone has changed my address!" I feel around again in the mailbox and find a wadded up ball of cash. Stupidly, I exclaim aloud, "Oh, there's money in here." The guy moves closer and demands I give him the money. I thrust it into this hands and he leaves, and in doing so, drops a pencil. I figure I can take it as evidence to the police - they can fingerprint it. But I don't pick it up.

I also find these empty peanut hulls in my kitchen. Pause: In real life, I've been finding these random peanut shells in my driveway and yard, and I'm not sure how they get there. Continue: But in my dream, they are INSIDE my house. So I suspect someone has found my key and is getting into my house. I have a sense that it's all a mind game - the peanut hulls, the changed address -- someone keeps messing with my house. I try to tell my dad but he downplays it all. LOL- thanks dad!

Then we see these guys breaking into my front door! Yet they were kind enough, before attacking us and looting my home, to finish installing a new screen door. LOL - dreams rock! So they come in to attack us both, and I'm basically a weakling (in real life) so I decide (in my dream) I'm going to fight back with this guy in a sexual way. Yeah, don't EVEN ask. Needless to say, it puts a new spin on the phrase "breaking and entering." So I try all manner of moves to arouse my assailant, of which I'll spare you the embarrassing details.

Finally, I am awakened by an 8:30 a.m. thunderstorm. Seriously, isn't that against the law on a Saturday morning? Give me peace, if not peace of mind.

So that was my long day's journey into night. A lot of it makes sense to the contexts of my life, but I'll spare you those details as well, given this is a long-haul post already. You may recognize several connections if you read a couple of earlier posts. Alas, my Shame-O-Meter red-lined a few paragraphs back, so I'm signing off.

Army out.