For most of my life I have had a very active dream life, which I have enjoyed. Upon waking I used to be able to remember most of my dreams and for the most part they were entertaining. If I dreamt something weird I could usually go back over the previous couple of days and find something in real life that had triggered said weirdness.
But lately I don't dream. Well, I guess it would be more correct to say that I don't remember my dreams, which I find to be kind of sad. I don't know if it has to do with my ever present exhaustion or what. I suspect it has something to do with which phase of sleep I'm in when my alarm goes off, but I'm not sure.
So, anyway, when I do remember my dreams these days it's kind of entertaining and as I keep telling you guys, I get my entertainment where I can these days.
Two nights ago I dreamed that David Beckham (yes, soccer phenom and tabloid staple David Beckham) was hitting on me. In a major way. He was flirting like crazy with me and then proceeded to tell me that he thought my body was beautiful. That I had the PERFECT body. But not for America.
For Iraq. IRAQ!
That the people of Iraq love women with my kind of figure.
Anybody wanna take a stab at where this one came from? Anybody? 'Cause I got no clue.
6 years ago