To Sleep Perchance To Dream

Carlos snored again last night.

He put on the Breathe Rite strip, or strapped it on, as he says, and still he snored. Two times I nudged him and told him to turn over. The third time I think I socked him; he only remembers the one time. But the trouble is, when Carlos snores, I have the weirdest dreams. I don't know if it's the snoring, or the fact that my mind knows it isn't going to get much sleep, so it shows me crazy pictures, but that's how it goes.

I dreamed that Jessica Lange was selling her house to me. Only she didn't want to discuss the selling of the house, she wanted to talk about the new diet she was on, and how easy it was and how much weight she'd lost. But she looked chunky to me and I wasn't sure if I should tell her or not.

So I woke up. Nudged Carlos. Drifted off.

I dreamed the Octomom was chasing me. Not that she was trying to get me to take care of her children, or mow the lawn around the shoe in which she lives.....There was an old lady who lived in a shoe and had so many children she didn't know what to do...I think she just wanted to talk and talk. Everywhere I turned there was the Octomom talking to me. Now, truth be told, these days that really isn't a dream, it's more of a reality. Still.

I woke up. Nudged Carlos. Drifted off.

I dreamed we were looking at houses to buy....I guess we weren't that interested in Jessica Lange's after all. Carlos and I are wandering through this condo owned by another gay couple. It was pretty, but all the art on the walls was already ours. They even had a stained glass piece that my dad made for me, but they said they had it commissioned for their house. I showed them my Dad's signature at the bottom....who signs stained glass?....and they still told me it was theirs.

I woke up. Socked Carlos. Drifted off.

So this morning all I could think about was Jessica Lange, the Octomom, and stained glass.

I have always had strange dreams. One, that I had eons ago, and still remember, was about Gloria Estefan. I didn't like Gloria Estefan, or the Miami Sound Machine. I didn't want to Congo, and I seriously hoped the Rhythm Was Gonna Get Her. But then i had a dream that I was a roadie on a Gloria Estefan tour--and this was right around the time of the bus crash that broke her back--and suddenly I loved Gloria Estefan.

And I still do.

Dreams. Go figure.