I usually have a strict policy about not boring other people with my weird dreams, but this one is too good. The other night I dreamt that I was a contestant on America’s Next Top Model, and that a fellow competitor was a giant Dorito-like chip, with arms and legs growing out of it. It even had white gloves on, like Mickey Mouse. We found out that our challenge was to pose in the surf at the beach, and I was really happy because I knew I would win because the chip was totally going to GET SOGGY in the water and who thinks a soggy chip is sexy? NO ONE. But before we could start the shoot, Tyra came running down the beach and crashed right into the chip and it shattered! Tyra killed the chip! And then I felt bad for feeling glee at the thought of winning at the expense of the soggy chip.
What does this say about me? Really. I am open to interpretations.
Secondly, I thought the trees were after me again. Have I ever told you that I have a love/fear relationship with trees? I love them, because, well, they are trees and I am a card-carrying tree-hugging pinko so of course I love trees. But I also fear them. You would too if one attacked you. Remember this kamikaze leafster that came after me while I was sleeping?
So the other night, at 4am, as Nordic Boy and I slept soundly in our beds, we were jolted awake by a loud BOOM. As if a large scary item (meteor? dinosaur? TREE?) had fallen right into our house. We got up and were relieved to discover that it was only a large piece of lumber that we had propped up on our porch (leftover from Roof Replacement ’08) that had fallen due to the gale force winds that have been happening around here lately. No damage, just a large belly-flop of a sound. But still. I am having tree trauma. Maybe this accounts for the weirdo dreams about Tyra committing chipicide?
Thirdly, my cell phone number? Has a very sketchy past. Ever since I got my new number, I get a voicemail message every day from collection agencies, random gravelly-voiced dudes saying “hon?” instead of “hello” and other such lovliness. I always tell the collection folks that they have the wrong number, and they say sorry and they don’t call back, but new ones always start up after that. It’s been kind of a pain in the nuts, and always makes me a little sad for whoever “hon” is- all these people chasing after her for her debts and all those craggy sounding dudes calling all the time. Then today, I get a message from a city police department detective asking for her to call back with the information on the “open case we had discussed earlier.” Wow. I called the detective to tell him that I was sorry but that person no longer had this phone number, and he sounded absolutely crestfallen. Like, “hon” had the key to crack the case and now she had turned up missing! And now the case will never be solved!
Or perhaps I have seen too many episodes of Murder She Wrote and my imagination is running away with me. It’s possible. You should just be thankful that I didn’t ask the detective if he had ever heard of chipicide.
PS- That reference to Murder She Wrote goes straight out to a special someone- you know who you are.