In my dreams, I freak Rob Thomas out

Okay...just woke up from yet another land-of-the-bizarre dream...one in which I apparently play the flute with Rob Thomas. But, at the end of the day, I don't actually play with him...let us begin...

The dream starts, and I'm helping people set up the stage...and it's weird, because it's people from my athletics department, and it's actually some sort of athletic event, but then, it's also like a church. Whatever.

So, the stage is set, and I'm practicing, and Rob is there, and we're all practicing, and it's really crowded.

All of the sudden, he's asking people for sunglasses because apparently whatever I'm playing is causing him to see these crazy bursts of light and it's hurting him or something. Um, what? And he's very nice about it...like he doesn't even understand why it's happening. But it's also apparently not the first time my flute playing has caused this to happen to him.

Then, someone takes my flute...like they're going to see what's up with it. And it so happens that this person is someone I used to work with at SJSU...and then my friends Dave and JJ are there (also musicians), and my friend Jill (not a musician...but a big fan of Rob)...and they start working on music, and suddenly, I'm just standing there, and my flute, and apparently my phone, are now on top of a piano and I'm really not pleased at all. It's almost like I've been banned from being in their little club.

So, I leave...after fetching my flute and phone from the piano...and having someone tell me that soon I'm going to have to give that phone up because they're taking back all the phones, and I try to tell them that it's not a work phone, but they don't seem to care. I take it anyway, and begin to leave.

** Okay, let the record show, that in real life, there is absolutely no way I would leave the vicinity of Rob Thomas. It just wouldn't happen. **

Anyway...I leave, and it's like I'm in the basement of someone's house...but I go out, and realize, my car is in the parking garage, and I turn to go back in, and it's hours later, and I'm back in the place where we were practicing...although now it's more like a big room, not a stage...and all those people are still in there, and they've been playing and singing all night. And now I'm really bitter...because I missed all of this.

So, I sit down at a table in the back room...because apparently now there are two rooms...and I try to find some paper to write Rob a note...something along the lines of I'm sorry, and I hope he's feeling better...but then, I have laundry, and I start to fold it.

And that's when I woke up...because really, dreaming about folding laundry? That's just not okay.

Not only do I live in My Own Personal Crazy...I dream in it as well.

Another one bites the dust

Turned on the light in the bathroom...started the shower...saw something on the inner wall of the tub...jumped a couple of feet...

Retrieved cup from sink...filled it with water...opened shower door to drown the creature...it had moved...found it...drenched it...

As it made its way to the drain, I discovered that it was, indeed, a moth...

Cue Queen...

In my dreams, I quantum leap...to the land of crazy!

Okay...figure this one out...

I just awoke from a crazy dream (imagine that)...where I was in some foreign country...maybe somewhere in South America? I honestly don't know. But I drove there. Sure. That makes sense. And I was sitting in a cafe with some random friend who also drove there (in real life, I do not know this person). And we're just sitting there, and Scott Bakula pops up. That's right. Quantum Leap Scott Bakula. And he is all chatty and telling me about his failed marriage and just sits down and we hang out for the rest of the dream. And as I'm about to leave, he's all forlorn and wondering how he can contact me. Really?

But wait. There's more. In this same dream...in the same cafe...there's also Debbie Allen. And Betty White. Apparently the name of this cafe is Cafe du Celebrity.

On the way to this cafe...in this random country...I'm driving down a road and there is a HUGE dog. I mean HUGE. Like, he's Clifford the Big Red dog, except he's sort of a rust color. HUGE.

And before that? I was in a friend's house (a real friend, but this was so NOT his real house). And it was just a mess...so unlike him. And it was apparently his birthday, but I missed it, and there were photos just strewn about...some of which I was in, but in all the ones I was in, I was sort of on the edge...in some sort of shadow. I'm sure this means something deep and dark, but really, I think it all just means I'm insane.

Scott Bakula? Really???

Further proof that I'm completely cracked...

So, Trident White...the gum...the one in the pack with the pop out pieces of gum...that's what I chew. Flavor? Peppermint. I've tried the other flavors...just not a big fan. I've also lost interest in the version of the gum where you unwrap the pieces. Too much work. Here's where the "I'm completely cracked" part comes in...

So, you can push the gum holder out from either side...6 pieces per side. And yes, there is a proper order in which the gum should be chewed. It shouldn't matter, but for some reason, it does. Basically, my whole thing is, you must finish one side of the pack before starting on the other side. And really, you should push the pieces out in some sort of order...either left to right or top to bottom.

Every now and then, I'll hand someone my pack of gum, rather than just popping out a piece for them myself. And with the exception of my friend Jill, who is just as cracked about this as I am, it never fails that whomever I hand my gum to will pop the gum out of the pack from the wrong side, out of order...totally throwing things off. At that point, I feel like just giving them the whole pack because my brain can't handle the off-balanced-ness of it all.

See? Cracked. Completely cracked.