Lots of people have recurring dreams. There's lots of people who dream the same dream over and over, every time they close their eyes. Even my husband, who tends to have "Scooby-Doo" dreams where the Nazis chase him all over the castle looking for the lost city of El Dorado, will sometimes have the same dream a couple of nights in a row. I've had dreams of tornadoes chasing me down a residential street, or spiders invading my mattress. Some of us will consult friends or look up information in books or online regarding dream symbols or dream interpretation. Others will just drink a glass of milk before bed and hope that does the trick.
Why do our brains offer us re-runs in Dreamland? It's like our dreams are created by ABC, so during the summer there are re-runs. If the brain does it, however, there must be a reason. Is there some sort of Dream Cable, and we are supposed to pay the bill on occasion? If so, can I order a nice romantic comedy to dream about? Preferably starring Henry Cavil?
Some say that dreams recur because there's something that you need to work on or change about yourself. Once you acknowledge that, the dream will stop recurring. That's the one that I usually go with; tornadoes, for instance, are symbols of crisis, and that made perfect sense at the time. Repeat dreams might also be your brain working out a problem while you are sleeping; when it figures out that difficult Algebra I equation from 8th grade, your brain will move on. Maybe. Recurring dreams could also just be a sign that you need to stop eating the Carnosaur special at the local deli after 7pm. You just never know.
My latest repeat dream has no deep philosophical meaning. I'm not being chased, I'm not falling, I'm not standing naked in front of the United Nations. My brain is not working out any particularly important life problem.
My current recurring dream? That I am sitting on the toilet, going.
Yep.
That's my big time recurring dream. Nothing bad is happening. I'm not scared. Jack Nicholson will not be popping up out of the commode to bite me on the butt. I just really have to go, in my dream, and so I do. It's a wonderful feeling. I'll be in that half-dream sort of state, but everything is groovy in my dream, so I carry on.
Except that I am not actually on the toilet. I am lying in bed! Abort! Abort! I always manage to stumble to the bathroom just in the nick of time. Is this what small children go through when they are potty training?
I have a brain that wakes me up so I can go to the bathroom. How about that, Dr. Freud? Does anyone else have that happen? Or is it just me? Should I be embarrassed? Probably. But if I were that embarrassed, I probably shouldn't be posting this online, huh?
Showing posts with label peeing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peeing. Show all posts
Monday, May 13, 2013
Thursday, June 21, 2012
You Know You're a Mom
Mamkat's Extremely Famous Prompt: 3.) You know you’re a Mom when…
When I became a mom, lots of things changed. In a good way, overall. I joined a very esteemed club, filled with women who sacrificed their bodies to raise progeny. As someone who was always picked last for teams and such, I'm not used to belonging to such a great group. We have a lot in common now. We all know you're a Mom when:
You no longer close the door when you pee, just in case your very young child needs you. This can lead to some embarrassment when you're at a dinner party.
Your child's projectile vomiting is the only thing that gets you out of bed at night.
If no tissue is available, you just reach over and wipe your child's nose with your fingers, then wipe your fingers on your jeans, all without stopping your conversation.
Your boobs are not nearly as perky as they were before breastfeeding happened. They are darn tired! The girls' have a new nickname-Droopy.
You gain twenty pounds. Why? Because you end up eating the food that your kids don't want in addition to your own meals, so the food isn't wasted.
When your boss comes back from the restroom, you absentmindedly ask him if he washed his hands.
Your purse contains diapers, wipes, gels, sprays, juice, sunscreen, band-aids, paper clips, and Jimmy Hoffa, just in case you need it. Your purse also weighs seventy pounds.
Any and every conversation you have with another adult involves some mention of your child, along with photos, videos, written reports, as well as a Power Point presentation.
You are overwhelmed with the urge to make sure that everyone's garment tags are tucked into their appropriate shirts and pants.
You find yourself checking people's feet, to make sure that they have put their shoes on the correct foot.
After the child turns a certain age and is mobile, you not only close the bathroom door, you lock it, and you hold very still, hoping that your kids don't notice that you are in there.
A glass of wine looks pretty darn good at the end of the day. The bottle looks even better.
Your greatest fantasy involves a massage, a nap, and alone time.
You're at a dinner with your friends, and one of them has a schmear of something on their chin. You have a napkin dipped in water and are reaching out to clean it off before you are aware of it.
When I became a mom, lots of things changed. In a good way, overall. I joined a very esteemed club, filled with women who sacrificed their bodies to raise progeny. As someone who was always picked last for teams and such, I'm not used to belonging to such a great group. We have a lot in common now. We all know you're a Mom when:
You no longer close the door when you pee, just in case your very young child needs you. This can lead to some embarrassment when you're at a dinner party.
Your child's projectile vomiting is the only thing that gets you out of bed at night.
If no tissue is available, you just reach over and wipe your child's nose with your fingers, then wipe your fingers on your jeans, all without stopping your conversation.
Your boobs are not nearly as perky as they were before breastfeeding happened. They are darn tired! The girls' have a new nickname-Droopy.
You gain twenty pounds. Why? Because you end up eating the food that your kids don't want in addition to your own meals, so the food isn't wasted.
When your boss comes back from the restroom, you absentmindedly ask him if he washed his hands.
Your purse contains diapers, wipes, gels, sprays, juice, sunscreen, band-aids, paper clips, and Jimmy Hoffa, just in case you need it. Your purse also weighs seventy pounds.
Any and every conversation you have with another adult involves some mention of your child, along with photos, videos, written reports, as well as a Power Point presentation.
You are overwhelmed with the urge to make sure that everyone's garment tags are tucked into their appropriate shirts and pants.
You find yourself checking people's feet, to make sure that they have put their shoes on the correct foot.
After the child turns a certain age and is mobile, you not only close the bathroom door, you lock it, and you hold very still, hoping that your kids don't notice that you are in there.
A glass of wine looks pretty darn good at the end of the day. The bottle looks even better.
Your greatest fantasy involves a massage, a nap, and alone time.
You're at a dinner with your friends, and one of them has a schmear of something on their chin. You have a napkin dipped in water and are reaching out to clean it off before you are aware of it.
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