Oct 252011

I’m not one of those people who has a dream and then needs to bore everyone with it immediately, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about (and feeling) the one I had two nights ago.

Chooch and I were at a party for someone who was late to arrive and there was no one else there we knew, just a bunch of family members looking at us all weird. The party was in a one-room house standing on cinder blocks and all I knew was that we needed to leave.

And so we did, despite being grabbed at by white trash alcoholics trying to forcibly tug us back into the house. I kept trying to run faster but I was having a hard time because I didn’t have any feet on account of Henry cutting them off the day before.

I wasn’t mad at him for doing it though. I understand that in order for him to fix my pants, he needed to cut off my feet, but he hadn’t yet had a chance to see them back on. So Chooch and I began our search for Henry, who worked in some seedy clinic for poor people.

On the way, I ran into some people I knew who casually asked, “Why are you running around with no feet again?” and then it occurred to me that this wasn’t the first time Henry had found a need to remove parts of me and as my REM-camera panned out I began to notice the accumulation of shoddy stitch-work across my body from all the times Henry had reassembled me.

My ankles have felt tender and ticklish ever since I woke up that morning.

Then there was this whole interlude where I inadvertently left Chooch* neglected and alone in the car when we arrived at the clinic  & only realized what I had done when I turned around and noticed a couple peering at him through the window and looking alarmed. I ran back to the car and gave them my best “I meant to do that” Pee Wee impression.

[*Like anyone could just “forget” that Chooch was in the backseat. That’s kid never shuts the fuck up.]

What the fuck does all this mean, other than that I should dump Henry and someone should call CYS on me.

ETA: I SOLVED IT! Yesterday, Barb gave me an apple. I put it in my purse. Today, I really want to eat that apple, but I have a biting-into-whole-apple paranoia. And of course I don’t know how to cut an apple. Why would I?

I wanted Henry to come home from work to cut it for me, but he was all, “Blah blah, I have a job and that is more important than your nutrition” so, outraged, I decided to do it myself.

But on my way to the kitchen, I had a flashing premonition of me slicing off my hand and then Henry having to come home and sew it back on.

So my dream was clearly a reminder to not try and cut foodstuffs with knives on my own. (And also that I’m a bad mom.)

I am extremely manic today.


  5 Responses to “A Stubby Dream”

  1. I couldn’t possibly comment. Other than that there comment what I just did.

  2. Oh I love weird dreams and I loved reading about yours :)
    Last night I had one really strange one where I stabbed a man with a fountain pen, had a furry 3 mouthed worm stuck on my ass crack and I had a special cloak on and could see demons and had a demon baby who wanted to play with me.
    And you’re the 2nd person I’ve bored with this story, hubby being 1st of cos lol….

  3. Your dream kinda stressed me out. Keep Henry around pleeeze.

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