A week later and she's still not making any sense

Last night I had a dream in which Monk and I were hanging out with some friends (in the movie credits they would be listed as Cool Crowd Members 1-5) and someone started smoking these full flavor, menthol cigarettes. I’m fairly certain they were the dream-version of Camels (and if you’ve ever smoked a Camel, I’m sure you remember how solid of a cig it is) (do you suppose someone –perhaps a desert dweller with internet access- is making disappointed faces at their computer right now because their Google search for “smoke a camel” brought them to this site?) . Where was I? Oh yes, smoking. Mmmmm, smoking. In the dream, Cool Crowd Member #1 offered a smoke to Monk who actually accepted, which kind of blew my mind since we’ve been completely smoke-free since January 1st (you may now praise me). So of course I took one too, feeling kind of guilty and just-this-once, and just-one-doesn’t-count-does-it about it all. We stood around someone’s car (Cool Crowd! Standing around a car, smoking! How terribly early-90s-angst-filled-movie-esque!) for a bit and I was feeling very conflicted about the whole situation; halfway through the smoke (mmm, smoking, I’ll never forget you) I somehow dropped the whole cigarrette into a puddle. And I thought well, that’s fine, I shouldn’t have been doing that anyway, so it’s better this way, no I’m not going to ask for another one, but damn I was not ready to be finished with that, etc.

I woke up this morning and told my subconscious off for being so utterly uncreative and almost literal in its dream-weaving (yes, Subconscious, I get it. In fact, I got it BEFORE your half-assed, not-quite-metaphorical presentation, thank you, that was quite a waste of REM), then felt a little bad for me, for having a subconscious so stressed out and exhausted that it can’t even muster the strength for a more inventive night’s sleep. Which overall was completely unsatisfying and far too short, if you’re wondering. Despite not going out after class for the first time in months and actually getting to bed at a decent hour. Which just goes to show you it’s far better to go out drinking until 2 in the morning on a Tuesday, rather than be responsible and get to bed before midnight: The next-day fatigue factor is the same, but there’s less of a chance of anyone’s subconscious getting bullied.

Lesson learned.

1 comment:

Blogger That Nervous Girl said...

I know just what you mean. Long after the physical and conscious everyday cravings subsided, my subconscious churned up all these "smoking fantasy" dreams too! Lame! And it was a similar scenario to yours - I'd keep almost getting to have a smoke (a camel light in my case) but either I couldn't light it or I'd drop it or something. It was like I had a boner for smoking that kept going limp when it was time to perform (or not, maybe I'm just giving you more almost-dirty google search fodder.) Thankfully, those dreams went away over time.

12:21 PM  

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