As many of you know, I am particularly attuned to my dreams. I don’t often remember them, but when I do I analyze them, share them, and generally act like a nut.
This morning the kids let me sleep until 7:40 a.m.! A shockingly late morning for us. Woo hoo! The greatest bonus was this dream:
I dreamed about a group of kids, a family with 3 or 4 kids. The eldest boy was going to be a senior in high school and he wanted to be student body president in the fall. It being Spring, everything was melting and green grass was peeking out. Lots of kids on bikes and his younger siblings were going to help him reach his dream.
One of the ways they help him is by campaigning at the youngest boys junior high school. The soon-to-be freshmen go nuts over the eldest boy’s campaigning and soon are following him around cheering.
Soon after the competition spies what is going on and comes over to confront the eldest sister (who is going to be a sophomore) about such juvenile tactics. She is seen holding a bottle with a clear, semi-viscous liquid in it. She tilts it back and forth wonderingly, with an evil glint in her eye. As the competition approaches, taunting her about her brother, she offers him a cup.
Suddenly he is stuck by her beauty and wonders why he never noticed her before. He begins flirting furiously. She puts the bottle aside announcing, “you’ll have to give it a try tomorrow…” and the camera pans to the rest of the siblings walking home from a victorious day of campaigning.
As they walk down the street giddy and boisterously discussing their huge success, they somehow neglect to notice that everyone around them is turning into strange frog faced, zoot suit wearing animated characters. The frogs chase each other, sing, dance, twirl multi-colored gummy worm watch fobs to accentuate their every phrase.
There’s a little more, which is a bit more disjointed. A “Rat Pack” bunch of zoot suit frogs, singing, with someone sharp-shooting them with popcorn. The competition gets home and asks if there was a package delivered for him. Something very funky, from a pal named (of all things) Diddy. Some strange interlude with the Price Is Right, about the big wheel spin going up to $10 due to inflation.
I can’t believe how much of the dream I remember. It was wild.
I’m beginning to think I need to put aside at least one evening a week to write and work on my stories.
Jan
10