A third attempt at this blogging business. |
BCF PROMPT: "I don't know about you but when someone wakes me up in the middle of the night to talk, I tend to speak nonsense and in the morning wonder if I was dreaming or did we really talk. Share with us one of your midnight conversations. Was it with a good friend or sibling? How much did you really remember the next day? If you haven't had the pleasure of a midnight conversation, try to imagine what one would be like and with who." Happy Saturday, friends. Wow, that prompt's a mouthful! A lot of damning information could potentially be gleaned from admissions in today's entries. ![]() But not from me. At least not that I'm aware of. Nobody's snuck a recording device under my pillow lately to tap the conversations I have with it. Now, that's not to say that I don't talk in my sleep, because I've been told by more than one person that I do. And it's mad awkward when you're being asked the next morning by a girlfriend who so-and-so is, when you're not realizing you were saying an ex-girlfriend's name in your sleep. If ever there were a reason for scientists to invent some sort of cleansing device that can wipe the memory of a person's existence from your subconscious, hands down that's it. And like many of you I'm sure, I've made my fair share of ridiculous proclamations and demands while somewhere between reality and dreamland. One night, on the rarest of occasions that I'd happened to go to bed before my most recent ex-girlfriend, apparently I'd said to her, "Go in the kitchen and make me a sandwich!" Her response was that I should wake up, make it myself, and make her one too while I was in there. Some of you might also recall my foibles last week involving Ambien and emailing, which were documented here: "This one's about the terrors, and trial and error." ![]() But my primary concern as of late hasn't been the talking or emailing while asleep or en route to somewhere thereabouts. My biggest problem is controlling and restraining myself physically during the rare occasions that I can recall what I'm dreaming about. And if you've been with me long enough on WDC you may have heard this story before, but I'll share it one more time for the new kids in class. Not long after I'd started dating my previous girlfriend, I'd been shown pictures of her family and spoken with different members over the phone. I'd yet to meet them (her parents lived out of state). We'd gone to bed, and I began dreaming about us holding an outdoor party in the backyard during the summertime for our friends and family. It would be my first time meeting her folks, and I was nervous about trying to make a good first impression. Now, before I continue with the rest of the dream, please let the record state that I was very much in love with this woman and would never do anything to cause her harm. I was asleep on my left side with my right arm around her, and my right leg was crossed over my left one. Ok...back to the dream. I went in the kitchen...to do what exactly, I don't remember. All I know is somehow there were some decent-sized rats in our garbage can. I remained calm on the outside, but on the inside my mind was having one hell of a crisis. I didn't want her parents to find out we had rats in the kitchen, and since the closest door led out to the driveway and backyard where the party was, I couldn't just let the rats outside. I started stomping the garbage can. What happened next in the dream? Not a damn thing. Why? Because I was woken up by a screaming woman next to me while my right foot and leg were jackhammering into her legs. My physical activity wasn't enough to wake me up, but she certainly became loud enough to. Once I recognized the gravity of what I was doing (so y'all don't think I'm some mean, abusive prick), I immediately stopped and began profusely apologizing. Luckily, it wasn't a big deal and we fell back asleep shortly after. And thankfully we were always able to joke about it. I wish I could say that was my first and last time, but it wasn't. As far back as my youth, I remember waking myself up in the middle of the night after dreaming I was tripping or falling, and feeling like I had been floating before physically coming down like I'd actually just landed on my bed. It was the strangest sensation. Lately though, it's been kicking and punching...like I've been forced to defend myself in one way or another. I don't wake up until I'm in the middle of assaulting the wall next to me. It's a lot scarier than it sounds...I've managed a couple of times to make myself sore for a few days from doing that. I'm not gonna lie; part of me kinda wants to have something more interesting to say about this prompt. But it is what it is. I've probably sealed a partner-less fate for the rest of my life when it comes to sharing sheets by having typed all this out, but I was never really comfortable next to most of the people I've fallen asleep with in the first place anyway. And I'm strangely ok with all of that. Besides, if there's one trait of mine that should be stamped on me somewhere visibly for all to see like a giant human warning label, it's that I tend to be jumpy when startled even when I'm wide awake...so if you try to rouse me in the middle of the night it's best if you're also trying to shield yourself at the same time rather than expecting to have any kind of meaningful conversation with me, because I'm liable to strike first and then listen. And if by then you've managed to wake me up but I've rendered you unable to speak, I'm probably going to be even more upset before I fully grasp what just went down. Fair warning, ladies. Now, about that sandwich... MUSICAL BREAK!! ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() THE DAILY BOX SCORE: ![]() ![]() 8: I think I posted something like a total of eight combined Facebook statuses and Twitter updates in the last 24 hours, give or take a few. That's excessive. Maybe not for some, but for me it is. That's too many peeks between the shades into the windows of my life, and too many chances for me to either look like I have no clue what I'm talking about, or prove that I have a lot of extra time on my hands. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Ok y'all, I think you've had enough of me for one night. Besides, I should be conserving word power for the start of what might become the most epic month of blogging ever (and I'm not saying that to insinuate my own prowess, but rather to give rise to the notion that I think September's crop of 30DBC challengers might be one of the best in quite awhile). Peace, I'm Tracy Morgan, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |