Even when I ‘m there, I don’t know what’s going on

Published May 12, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

In the last twelve hours, I talked to Actor Boy; bought five audio books and had a dream so bizarre I believe Patton Oswalt’s Ambien dream theory.

I vaguely remember what Actor Boy and I talked about. He is going to try and come for a week this summer to celebrate my birthday and to slog around with me and commiserate about our mutual disappointments over the past year. He has convinced me to join him on the dark side (Where you don’t actively pursue dating or romantic relationships of any kind because a) it is too grim a prospect and b) only the beasts remember us.)

I had a credit with Audible so I selected a book and bought three additional credits. I discovered that there is Stephen King book that is only available on audio, so of course I had to buy it. I also pre-ordered the upcoming Stephen King and reserved the remaining credit for a future purchase.  I woke up this morning and discovered that there was a flash sale. One of the books on my wish list (A memoir about a child survivor of the Holocaust, narrated by one of my favorite narrators) was on the sale for four dollars. I didn’t want to use my credit for this book, so I used the credit to buy another book I want to read (I capture the castle, which sounds like A Tree Grows in Brooklyn: the English Countryside version) and then I got the other book.

I dreamed that one of my oldest friends wanted me to borrow and airplane for the buffet of an upcoming wedding that was being held in a local theater. She wanted to arrange the chocolate truffles along the wings of the plane. I needed to tell the restaurant that owned the plane that I would need to borrow it for two hours. There was also going to be a story time in the theater approximately 15 minutes before the wedding started. The Pope was also in attendance and one of my aunt’s was annoyed because she felt a wedding was a misuse of a papal visit.  Somewhere in the dream Amelia Earhart was flying a plane and her husband fell out of the cockpit and she had to fly him back, wondering if she should stop flying. (This was not the same plane that the restaurant owned.)

Patton Oswalt has theory that Ambien opens up all of the doors in your subconscious. All of the dream troupes, the Action Dream, the Nightmare, the Hubba-Hubba sex dream, etc all exist behind different doors. With Ambien they all come out to perform and have to assemble a dream out of the different components.

I have no idea. I’m trying to make sense of things, but  how can I when my brain insists on wandering out doing weird crap when I’m not paying attention?

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