And I will wait, I will wait for you
Spring (or more accurately, secondish spring, since we always get at least two false starts that trick all of us into thinking we can put away our heavier winter coats, and fuck with the cherry blossom peak predictions) is underway, and just as the birds return from migration and the flowers make their cautious entry into the world, so too turn I to a cycle as expected and regular: the return of having night after night of absolutely batshit dreams, due to taking Benadryl. I dunno what it is; maybe it's something in the pink dye. But whenever I take that stuff before I sleep because of allergies, I always end up having even vivider, weirder dreams than usual.
I've gone into lengths about my Olympic anxiety dreams before, but lately I've been having my third most common anxiety dream, which is that my friends or family are making me take part or go to some activity or location that is very obviously haunted, and I know this, but I still end up having to go or participate anyway, because it would be rude not to. (Second most common anxiety dream for me is that I'm at school and can't open/find my locker; that always seems to stymie me, and I never even get around to freaking out over not going to a class all year or whatever.) I blame this on the Silent Hill franchise.
(I lied; I am going to mention Louise. I dreamed once we were driving somewhere and had to go through one of those weird historical recreation places like Williamsburg or whatever. It was kinda haunted, which we knew--Silent Hill Williamsburg?-- but we figured it was easier to just deal with it than try to take a different route, which is actually pretty on brand for how we handled navigating anyhere. Getting through the town required, for some reason, carrying her cat, which all the zombie townspeople really wanted to take from us.
Once we fought our way through, and got back in the car, she was examining the cat and told me that it wasn't her cat, it was her cat's brother, we had left her cat back in the town, and we had to go back for the real cat. I asked how she knew that, because it sure looked like her cat, and she said her cat was gay. Which led me to say in the dream, very annoyed:
"We do not have time to go back for your stupid homosexual cat."
Then we went to 7-11 and got slurpees.)
Anyway, the latest Benadryl-induced nightmare involved being made to clean out someone else's haunted basement. Ghost attack happened. It was such an active attack that in dream, it somehow smacked me clear out of the haunted-basement-cleaning-with-ghosts storyline and straight into another dream, where I was riding a giant eagle and had to deliver forty pounds of cake. The dream was very specific about the amount.
The reason I'm writing this now is because it's two am and I've been trying to hold off the Benadryl for tonight, but I can't fall asleep, despite being tired. And I need to wake up early tomorrow, because I have an appointment with a very nice young lady who I will pay a substantial amount of money to pour hot wax on my crotch and rip all the hair off it. When I was filling out the pre-form for this place, there's a part that asks what my favorite jams are, so they could play it during the process to make me comfortable during the process. I was honestly perplexed at what would be considered a good pick. I like alternative and rock, but somehow I feel like it would just be weird to be staring at the ceiling and making us both listen to, say, the Smashing Pumpkins or the Offspring. I suppose I could lean into the weirdness and make us both listen to, like, Swan Lake or something. Since this isn't my first rodeo with the whole Brazilian thing-- just with this particular technician-- it seems unusual to me. I'm used to just making awkward small talk with the technician while it's going on, and occasionally suppressing pained noises.
The problem is, while I'm actually pretty damn good at making small talk at parties and medical conferences (I can basically do sports and cardiology for as long as necessary) I am terrible at doing it with anyone who's performing some kind of physical beautifying service for me, mostly because I was crap at getting haircuts, manicures, waxing, etc. until I was older. Just never came natural, you know? So I have an unfortunate tendency to panic and make things up to seem normal and/or agreeable to whatever they're saying.
Most of the time, it's not, uh, straight up lying, it's just making agreeing noises to whatever they're saying. But sometimes they seem to want me to talk, and I end up trying to come up with something embellished enough to get the conversation back to them, and in the process, I become a lying liar who lies. I have created so many fake significant others while on the table or in the chair, and storylines in lives I'm not living. Somewhere, in some alternate dimension or reality, there's an island or a big house where they all must live. I hope they're having a nice time.
Anyway, I should just cut my losses and take a Benadryl.
I've gone into lengths about my Olympic anxiety dreams before, but lately I've been having my third most common anxiety dream, which is that my friends or family are making me take part or go to some activity or location that is very obviously haunted, and I know this, but I still end up having to go or participate anyway, because it would be rude not to. (Second most common anxiety dream for me is that I'm at school and can't open/find my locker; that always seems to stymie me, and I never even get around to freaking out over not going to a class all year or whatever.) I blame this on the Silent Hill franchise.
(I lied; I am going to mention Louise. I dreamed once we were driving somewhere and had to go through one of those weird historical recreation places like Williamsburg or whatever. It was kinda haunted, which we knew--Silent Hill Williamsburg?-- but we figured it was easier to just deal with it than try to take a different route, which is actually pretty on brand for how we handled navigating anyhere. Getting through the town required, for some reason, carrying her cat, which all the zombie townspeople really wanted to take from us.
Once we fought our way through, and got back in the car, she was examining the cat and told me that it wasn't her cat, it was her cat's brother, we had left her cat back in the town, and we had to go back for the real cat. I asked how she knew that, because it sure looked like her cat, and she said her cat was gay. Which led me to say in the dream, very annoyed:
"We do not have time to go back for your stupid homosexual cat."
Then we went to 7-11 and got slurpees.)
Anyway, the latest Benadryl-induced nightmare involved being made to clean out someone else's haunted basement. Ghost attack happened. It was such an active attack that in dream, it somehow smacked me clear out of the haunted-basement-cleaning-with-ghosts storyline and straight into another dream, where I was riding a giant eagle and had to deliver forty pounds of cake. The dream was very specific about the amount.
The reason I'm writing this now is because it's two am and I've been trying to hold off the Benadryl for tonight, but I can't fall asleep, despite being tired. And I need to wake up early tomorrow, because I have an appointment with a very nice young lady who I will pay a substantial amount of money to pour hot wax on my crotch and rip all the hair off it. When I was filling out the pre-form for this place, there's a part that asks what my favorite jams are, so they could play it during the process to make me comfortable during the process. I was honestly perplexed at what would be considered a good pick. I like alternative and rock, but somehow I feel like it would just be weird to be staring at the ceiling and making us both listen to, say, the Smashing Pumpkins or the Offspring. I suppose I could lean into the weirdness and make us both listen to, like, Swan Lake or something. Since this isn't my first rodeo with the whole Brazilian thing-- just with this particular technician-- it seems unusual to me. I'm used to just making awkward small talk with the technician while it's going on, and occasionally suppressing pained noises.
The problem is, while I'm actually pretty damn good at making small talk at parties and medical conferences (I can basically do sports and cardiology for as long as necessary) I am terrible at doing it with anyone who's performing some kind of physical beautifying service for me, mostly because I was crap at getting haircuts, manicures, waxing, etc. until I was older. Just never came natural, you know? So I have an unfortunate tendency to panic and make things up to seem normal and/or agreeable to whatever they're saying.
Most of the time, it's not, uh, straight up lying, it's just making agreeing noises to whatever they're saying. But sometimes they seem to want me to talk, and I end up trying to come up with something embellished enough to get the conversation back to them, and in the process, I become a lying liar who lies. I have created so many fake significant others while on the table or in the chair, and storylines in lives I'm not living. Somewhere, in some alternate dimension or reality, there's an island or a big house where they all must live. I hope they're having a nice time.
Anyway, I should just cut my losses and take a Benadryl.