Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Dream a Little Dream

Some dreams are just too funny not to share.

I guess I've been watching a little too much reality TV lately, in particular, my absolute favorite: Project Runway. I'll get to why that's relevant in a moment.

So, last night, the Brooklyn Baby slept -- a bit. You have to remember that in this apartment, a stretch of 3 hours is seen as a blessing, 4 hours is cause for celebration, 5 is a miracle.
So, a miracle happened last night, and we all slept from midnight to 5am. Now, before you start to comment on my blog something to the effect of "yippee -- that means Miss Stella slept through the night," just know that she's done this before and it never sticks. In fact, a relatively easy night like last night is usually followed by 2 weeks or so of our usual sleep -- awake every hour to hour and a half for sucking and wailing and indecision. (I adore my little girl, but she takes after her momma -- I can't seem to get comfortable, I toss and turn, and I'm a terror to share a bed with. And yet, I hate to sleep alone.)
What does 5 hours of sleep do to Randi? Well, it gives me a chance to dream, that's what! I've always been a vivid dreamer and I can almost always recall pretty much every detail of my dreams. However, if I don't sleep, I don't dream; and that's just sad.
Unfortunately, as Dave and my mom can tell you, my vivid dreams usually involve the people I love the most treating me like crap. Sure, I have the occasional flying dream or dream where I can still speak fluent French (even though I've been out of college over a decade) or even the allusive and wonderful naughty dream, but mostly my dreams are of me being a victim to people who, in real life, are marvelous to me.
Get to the dream, Randi! Geez! Sorry, I digress. So, last night, I dreamt that my husband of over 3 years, the man I've been with almost 7 years, the father of our adored little girl - I dreamt that that guy and I were just friends. True, we had a daughter in the dream. But in this alternate dream reality, that didn't account for much.

So my pal and I were hanging out, and I was trying to be overly casual because I was secretly in love with him. He was being jovial and funny and oh-so-irresistable, and I was thinking I might make a move, might help transition us from just friends (with a child) to something more.

Then some a-hole came in. In the dream, he was a friend of Dave's and a guy I could barely tolerate (not any of our real-life friends, thankfully, just a fictional a-hole). He punched Dave on the arm and says, "Dude, I hear you're with Kenley!"
Dave looks at me, slightly embarrassed in the dream, then looks back at the guy and says, "Yeah, we've dated a bit."
The a-hole says, "Right on, she's hot!" And I am reduced to a puddle of poo on the floor.
Oh, but who's Kenley you ask? I guess you do not degrade yourself with reality TV in that case, so I'll show you a picture:

Yes, she looks awfully proud of herself for snagging my man, doesn't she?
She's the designer on P.R. who makes pretty sweet vintage-y clothes but serves 'em up with a side order of snarkiness and immaturity that causes her to be reality TV gold. Oh, and I guess it doesn't hurt that she's hot.

So, that's how I spent my glorious 5 hours of repose -- dreaming that the love of my life was dating some pouty little reality TV star.
I guess a sad dream is better than no dream, right? (At least it means I slept.)


alexlady said...

excellent! love the new blog! and i love the shot of stella hitting the runway for the first time. :)


Kris said...

Love the new blog. You've almost convinced me to start my own....publicly.

BTW, congrats on the 5 hr stretch. Enjoy them while you get them! I've only got 11 more days till I join you in the sleepless repose of a new mommy again.

Anonymous said...

I love PR too!! And they had to have a bad girl that everybody could hate, I guess but I reeeeally wanted to like Kenley because I love vintage although I am sort of OVER the sitution on her head with the feathers or the sequins or what have you. Sigh. I'm voting for Leanne.