I'm sorry I haven't been on in a while- I'll try to post more often. It's the question of quality vs. quantity. When I have nothing new to say, is it better just to shoot the shit? Let me know.
Anyway, this morning's dream, for those who enjoy analysis:
I was back in High School, but married to Jen, even though we were living in separate rooms in my parents' house. It was prom night, and I surprised Jen with tickets. No one at school, (we didn't attend the same one in real life,) knew we were married, and I thought we'd surprise them by being announced with the same last name. Instead of a tux, I had a suit and three shirts: white, black, and brown. The prom started at six, and it was five thirty. No time for a shower, although close inspection in the mirror showed my face was slightly dirty. No problem, I'd just wipe it off.
I got dressed with the white shirt. After putting on my bow-tie, I realized my neck was filthy - actually mud-caked. I went in my bathroom. My late maternal grandfather was visiting, and he and an uncle had done some electrical work in the bathroom, specifically, installing a light in the floor. There was a hole drilled down to the (non-existent) basement, and the bare wires stuck out. I wondered if someone would get hurt. I was able to clean off my jacket, but the grimy white shirt was a gonner. I stripped down to my underwear and scrubbed my face and my neck. I had a light-blue bow-tie somewhere, and I thought the black shirt would look cool.
I went back to my bedroom in my underwear. The den outside was full of people - my late maternal grandparents, Jen's late grandmother, and a few other relatives. My bedroom door wouldn't close. I asked my father what was going on, and he said my mother was having a party. Fine, I said, but would everyone go upstairs, please, and stop hovering around my room? They did. Every room in the house was about three times bigger than normal, and my room had four dressers in it. I searched through all the drawers frantically, but couldn't find the blue bow-tie. To hell with it, I decided, I'll wear all black. I looked in my closet, but couldn't find my black shirt. It was now six pm, and we were officially late. I looked out the window, and there were two mountain lions under the pine tree, frantically having sex. Huh, I thought, look at that.
I went upstairs, not giving a crap about the fact that I was in my underwear. The doorbell rang. I opened it. It was Uncle Floyd and Soupy Sales. I asked Uncle Floyd if he remembered meeting me some twenty-two years ago. He said no, and why didn't I put on some pants? I was a little annoyed now - this party seemed interesting, why couldn't it had been another night? I confronted my mother in the kitchen and asked where my black shirt was. She said that she had sent all unfolded laundry to her friend's house when cleaning up for the party. Now I was pissed, and she was embarrassed because it was obviously a stupid idea. I went back downstairs and looked in the laundry room. There were five tiny driers in there, all full. I searched each one, but my black shirt wasn't there. My friend Kirsten (nee Kunna) was there, and I explained the situation. I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to wear the ugly brown shirt.
Walking back to my room, it did occur to me that this was just like one of my typical frustration dreams, where I have some goal to reach and no matter what, things keep popping up in my way. My bedroom was filled with folding tables. Jen was sitting there, in her gown, along with Kirsten who was now holding a baby. Jen was annoyed because it was now 6:30 and the prom was underway. I said that I had to wear the brown shirt instead of the black, and she said good, she didn't like the black one, and get a move on.
At this point I woke up.
OK, any takers?