There is not enough WTF in the world
... to describe the dream I just had.
I can go for months without remembering a dream, but I was awakened during this dream, or possibly I was only half-asleep the whole time it was going on, and so last night/this morning's dream is particularly vivid in my mind.
I'm pretty sure I dreamed the part where Angela called me at 5:14 in the morning to ask if I was calling out sick. Why she called instead of sending a text like she normally would is beyond me. But somehow we jump from me dreaming about being in my bed and being awakened by my cell phone to me being at my grandmother's house.
My cousin Jennifer shows up with two little girls, maybe two years old. She doesn't have two girls in real life, she has a 3 or 4 year old boy and a girl who's about 6 months old. Despite this incongruity, one is her daughter and the other, I deduce amid my dream-confusion, is her daughter's friend. Where her son is, I have no clue.
The friend, whose name I never learn, has to go potty. So I oblige and take her into the bathroom, where I'm told she can do it herself. Jennifer, my cousin, hands me a sack filled with what is apparently the love child of a diaper or pull-up and a maxi pad. It's for toddlers and sticks to the inside of their underwear. I'm to change this contraption and make sure the friend has on a fresh one.
So while the friend is sitting on the potty, I pull the old one off her tiny panties and reach in the bag for a fresh one. I unwrap it and get ready to stick it on, when suddenly I notice that it's bloody. So bloody, in fact, that blood has gotten everywhere. It's splattered against the bathtub, the sink, on the hand towels, EVERYWHERE. Srsly, it's like that scene in Nightmare on Elm Street where Johnny Depp gets eaten by the amazing blood volcano.
I, of course, freak out at this. The friend is taking it in stride. I grab a washcloth and start scrubbing at the blood on the bathtub. It's stuck on there good. I mean, I don't know what kind of blood it is, but it is apparently made out of super glue or something. I manage to get some of it off by the time the friend is done with her pottying. She finishes by herself and I immediately hand her the washcloth, telling her in simple, easy-to-follow instructions to keep scrubbing the blood from hell off of the bathtub. I know I have to get to work soon, and I don't have time to play Mr. Clean. I manage to find my cousin alone, and bring her into the bathroom.
For some reason, Jennifer had been carrying a knife - not a butter knife or a paring knife, but a long, serrated blade that looks like it could kill a wolverine in a pinch. She sets the knife down on the edge of the bathtub, and pulls off of her finger what I at first assume to be her wedding ring. Upon closer inspection, it's a blue stitch marker. She makes some comment that I either fail to catch or have forgotten in the meantime, and sets about cleaning up the horrid mess. I say again, "I don't have time for this; I have to be at work."
And that's approximately when my mom pokes her head in my real room and says, "Beth, you know it's time to get up."
So... yeah. I have no idea what that was about. I'll be interested in looking that stuff up in my dream dictionary when I get home.
I can go for months without remembering a dream, but I was awakened during this dream, or possibly I was only half-asleep the whole time it was going on, and so last night/this morning's dream is particularly vivid in my mind.
I'm pretty sure I dreamed the part where Angela called me at 5:14 in the morning to ask if I was calling out sick. Why she called instead of sending a text like she normally would is beyond me. But somehow we jump from me dreaming about being in my bed and being awakened by my cell phone to me being at my grandmother's house.
My cousin Jennifer shows up with two little girls, maybe two years old. She doesn't have two girls in real life, she has a 3 or 4 year old boy and a girl who's about 6 months old. Despite this incongruity, one is her daughter and the other, I deduce amid my dream-confusion, is her daughter's friend. Where her son is, I have no clue.
The friend, whose name I never learn, has to go potty. So I oblige and take her into the bathroom, where I'm told she can do it herself. Jennifer, my cousin, hands me a sack filled with what is apparently the love child of a diaper or pull-up and a maxi pad. It's for toddlers and sticks to the inside of their underwear. I'm to change this contraption and make sure the friend has on a fresh one.
So while the friend is sitting on the potty, I pull the old one off her tiny panties and reach in the bag for a fresh one. I unwrap it and get ready to stick it on, when suddenly I notice that it's bloody. So bloody, in fact, that blood has gotten everywhere. It's splattered against the bathtub, the sink, on the hand towels, EVERYWHERE. Srsly, it's like that scene in Nightmare on Elm Street where Johnny Depp gets eaten by the amazing blood volcano.
I, of course, freak out at this. The friend is taking it in stride. I grab a washcloth and start scrubbing at the blood on the bathtub. It's stuck on there good. I mean, I don't know what kind of blood it is, but it is apparently made out of super glue or something. I manage to get some of it off by the time the friend is done with her pottying. She finishes by herself and I immediately hand her the washcloth, telling her in simple, easy-to-follow instructions to keep scrubbing the blood from hell off of the bathtub. I know I have to get to work soon, and I don't have time to play Mr. Clean. I manage to find my cousin alone, and bring her into the bathroom.
For some reason, Jennifer had been carrying a knife - not a butter knife or a paring knife, but a long, serrated blade that looks like it could kill a wolverine in a pinch. She sets the knife down on the edge of the bathtub, and pulls off of her finger what I at first assume to be her wedding ring. Upon closer inspection, it's a blue stitch marker. She makes some comment that I either fail to catch or have forgotten in the meantime, and sets about cleaning up the horrid mess. I say again, "I don't have time for this; I have to be at work."
And that's approximately when my mom pokes her head in my real room and says, "Beth, you know it's time to get up."
So... yeah. I have no idea what that was about. I'll be interested in looking that stuff up in my dream dictionary when I get home.