The Lynnster Dream Zone

For some reason I've decided to trek down the road from my parents' house. (I am finding it curious by this point in my dreamblogging that I dream about my parents' house more often than I dream about my own apartment, or any apartment I've ever had.) It feels like I'm westward bound, though the landscape is unfamiliar and I see a sort of suburban cluster of stores and a McDonald's on the horizon. I think to myself, Wow, I never knew there was a McDonald's so close to my house. So I head toward it. Along the way, the paved road becomes a dusty, rutted gravel road, passing between expansive, grassy fields lined with rustling trees. I can hear the crickets and the katydids in the grass — their chirps and hums make the air vibrate.

There is a group of young people playing football in the field to my right. Actually, they're probably practicing. It seems more repetitive and stressful than a pickup game. I reach the end of the road and climb up into some twisted piece of farm equipment whose windowed caboose looks down over the group playing ball. Inside, I encounter other people there, and I realize that they are looking at me in frustration, as if to imply that I shouldn't be there and that I'm disturbing this holy practice session. Which, if it's a high school football team, makes sense.

So I climb down and double back. I can't figure out how to get to the cluster of life I saw on the horizon earlier.

[vague and blurry]

I am heading back to my parents' house with the feeling that I'm in trouble. That someone's following me. I think Amy Rose is there. Someone else is with us — someone she knows. We are snickering at the possibility of getting in trouble. I, of course, and wracked with guilt. But we press on.

[vague and blurry]

I am in my parents' house and I come downstairs and there's Lynnster, who I've never met (add that to the tally of bloggers I've dreamt about), but whose blog I read just before bed last night. I've never even seen a recent picture of Lynnster, but my brain managed to take earlier pictures of her and show me what she might look like today. Very interesting trick, brain. Kudos.

Anyway, so Lynnster comes to hug me and is all "Let me see you!!" She is acting like a long-lost aunt, marveling at how I've grown. We chat briefly and then she and my mom go back to kvetching about things, and I completely forget the rest of the dream.


TVonthefritz said...

You never dream about me. It's 'always bloggers who I've never met.' What do I have do to wedge myself into your subconscious? Just keep having more S&M dreams about you and hope that our nocturnal sleeping patterns converge on some level? I want to wear asschaps in your dream, please.

Lynnster said...

Hahaha! That's awesome! I wonder if you'll have more dreams about me after we meet for lunch or dinner sometime! Hee.

theogeo said...

Fritzbang, this is a clear sign from God that you need to start blogging again. I apparently only dream about people who blog.

And my parents. (And you already missed that boat. :) )

Lynnster, it's almost guaranteed. :)

TVonthefritz said...

Did I tell you about how I talk to God while stoned?

Oh shit. Now I just look like a crazy stoner.