Worst dream ever.

Well, maybe not, but it was close . . .

I rarely get enough sleep to actually reach a cycle of dreaming, but last night I did. Did I have a lovely dream about living in New York, or about being a full-time writer, or about traveling in Europe as often as I would like? No. Instead, I dreamed that I was sitting at a table with the judge and opposing counsel in one of my cases, discussing what the deadline would be for a particular filing. And for some reason I cannot fathom, I chose this moment to apply to my face a white substance that resembled my favorite facial mask stuff from Origins. So I was sitting there throughout this conference, wearing a facial mask. At some point, I decided to get up and go to the restroom to wash it off. When I reached the restroom, it was spacious and comfortable, with an outer waiting room (completely unlike the restrooms one actually finds in a courthouse, with are nothing if not utilitarian). Someone had left her purse sitting on the floor of the outer waiting room, and I informed those in the interior room that it was not safe to do that at the courthouse. Then there was some discussion among those in the restroom of a rumor that a man we all apparently knew (though his name is not familiar to me) had been raped. Thankfully, I woke up at this point.

Any dream interpreters out there care to comment?





(My dogs on my bed, wondering what dreams are . . . )

In the event that it is relevant to the dream analysis, before I dropped off to sleep last night, I had just finished reading a bad book. Maybe not a bad book, but definitely not a good one. It is called "Kissing Your Ex," by Brooke Stevens, and I will freely admit that I mainly kept reading just because I wanted to know how it would end. When I got to the end, I was ticked that I had wasted the time reading the middle to get there, as it wasn't worth the wait. While the nugget of a good story existed, it was as if the author was so eager to tell the story that he didn't take the time to write well along the way. Something felt vaguely off to me throughout the book whenever the writing was about the main female character, and at the end, I finally learned why . . . the author is a man (before you guys flame me, I recognize there are some men who do a good job of writing about women . . . John Irving would be one of them). Bizzarrely, in the notes at the end, which included a Q and A session with the author, the suckup from the publishing house asked him how he can write women so well. His answer was not nearly as memorable or charming, if offensive, as the one Jack Nicholson's character gave in the movie "As Good As It Gets," which was something to the effect of: "I think of a man. Then I remove reason and accountability."

On to the next book on my pile, which is "The Opposite of Fate," by Amy Tan. Hopefully, it won't leave me with crazy dreams!

P.S Here is a riveting video of a dog eating a bone, and a mysterious intruder who attempts to steal the bone. Don't miss it! Via flea, at One Good Thing.