It's not that I don't love you guys or anything, but seriously. . .stay out of my dreams. That's right, you all heard me. I have dreamed about this blog, and subsequently all of my remark leaving readers, twice in the last week. Twice. And do you know something? My projections of you guys in my dreams are pretty nice people. But it's just weird to dream about people you only know on the internet. And my projections of you guys are all taller than me. And I despise being shorter than everyone. So just, you know, stop invading my dreams. I'm sure you've got better dream waves to surf, anyway.
But speaking of dreams, I had this really awesome, and yet utterly horrifying one last night. After I dreamed about you guys, obviously. Jeeze, it's not like you were all in my dreams the whole night or anything. (BTW, I must say that all of you guys are masters of dance. You did this choreographed dance thing at a party where you were all drinking Strawberry Smirnoff, even though I don't think there is a Strawberry flavored Smirnoff.) But the dream I'm going to tell you about is not the one about you guys. Or the other one about you guys. It's about other people. I know, far less entertaining, but when I woke up I felt incredibly pleased with myself. And I need to know if that's bad.
Moving on. You'll need a little background. My mother had a best friend when we lived in Florida, and she had five children. Her oldest daughter we will call Elspeth. Elspeth was two years younger than me, three years younger than Relly. And she clung to the two of us like a sweaty tank top clings to a fat dude at a gym. She was always around, following us like a little shadow, never leaving. But I hated her. I didn't like other children, but I reserved a special place in my young heart filled with an all consuming hatred of her above all other children. I haven't seen Elspeth since I was ten, but for some reason she was in my dream that I had this morning.
I was working, and for some reason my whole family was there, and her family, too. She wasn't a kid in my dream. She was the age she should be now: about twenty. And for some reason, she felt the urge to keep flicking the sign on the door from OPEN to CLOSED. And people kept walking away, and it was costing us business. And I got so pissed off in my dream that I grabbed her by her shirt collar, got right up in her face and said, "Elspeth, if you don't go to your room right now I'm going to bend you over my knee and beat your ass."
An odd thing to say considering she's a grown ass woman, but she got huffy and turned and went into a room. Presumably her bedroom, though why the store had a bedroom for her to hide in is beyond me. I guess that's why I knew this was a dream.
When I turned my back to flip the sign to OPEN, though, Elspeth came hurtling out of her room, screaming her war cry, and the bitch jumped me from behind. Though I am not a violent person in reality, I flipped her over my shoulder and went to town fighting her, using the martial arts training I learned when I was fourteen. (I assume that's what I was using. I mean, it's the only fighting I've ever learned, so that must be it). I ripped out fistfuls of hair, slapped her face, punched her boobs, kicked, and bit the living shit out of her shoulder before she finally gave up and turned to walk away. (She was fighting dirty, so I was fighting even dirtier.)
I let her go. I was being the bigger person. I had made my point. I didn't want to beat the shit out of her. I was completely happy to just go back to work, though everybody was just standing in a circle watching us fight. That was silly.
And then that crazy bitch attacked me from behind a second time. Really? Now, when we were children, Elspeth and I got into fights a lot, and there was some hair pulling. And she did have a habit of pretending like she was done just to turn around and attack again when I wasn't looking. But this fight achieved a greater level of violence than anything we'd reached as children.
And that was it. I was pissed and looking for a good excuse, so I went ape shit on her ass. I ripped out eyelashes, punched her face and stomach, ripped out more hair, beat her head on the floor a few times, and while she got in a few hits, I finally had her pinned underneath me and I had my hands wrapped around her throat, which was quite an accomplishment considering she's always weighed about twenty pounds more than me. Yup. I was strangling her with my bare hands, and when she stopped flailing to conserve air, I told her, "I'm going to take my hands off of you and let you up. But I swear to god, bitch, if you attack me again, I will kill you. Do you understand?"
She nodded, I let her go, and she got to her feet and backed away. Then she ran and told her mother that I had just attacked her for absolutely no reason, and my mother's boyfriend's daughter, who I also disliked as a child, seconded her. They pointed out the bruises on her neck as proof of my beating her.
I shrugged and said, "She attacked me twice. It was self defense." And everybody believed me, and she just went around pouting the entire time.
When I woke up, I felt incredibly pleased with myself, and I went to take my shower. When I got out of the shower, I told Padawan about my dream. Or I started to. I only got to the part where I told her I would beat her ass and she attacked me when he interrupted.
He said, "Was this the dream you had before you woke up?"
"I was awake. You were breathing really short, shallow breaths for a while. What was that?"
I smiled. "Well, that must have started when I started kicking her ass. I opened a can of whoop ass on her. It was a freaking hard fight."
And he said, "Well, you stopped breathing like that for a minute, and then you started again."
"That's because after I finished her the first time, she came back for a second round."
Even just remembering how I handed her ass to her makes me smile. Is there something wrong with me? I mean, it's not like it was a particularly gory scene. For all of the hitting and ripping and biting that went on, there was no blood. Gore never really was my thing. I was just beating the snot out of her. And I enjoyed it. It also amuses me that my breathing reflected the action of my dream, though I wasn't actually moving or anything. Padawan says I kept still. I was just breathing rapid, shallow little breaths.
I don't like violence in reality. I mean, I prefer words to fight with, mostly because words don't cause physical pain, and I'm a genius with words when I'm trying to make a point. Though I can defend myself when necessary, and I've had physical confrontations with my sisters in the past, I've never enjoyed it. But I really, really liked beating the shit out of Elspeth in my dream.
Does that mean I'm secretly a really violent person or something?
(In a side thought, I did watch Shutter Island last night, and Leo did try to strangle somebody with his bare hands, which is probably why strangulation appeared in my dream.)
To lighten the mood after that bit of insanity, I've got two pictures for you guys.
We gave Choo Choo some corn on a cob, and she went to town on it. I never before this moment realized that my dog possessed a unique understanding on how to eat corn on a cob. But she went down the line on this sucker and had it picked clean within two minutes. She even rolled it over herself to expose new sides. Wow.
And then we gave Choo Choo her new bed, and she loved it so much that she immediately climbed in it and made herself at home. She loved it so much, in fact, that she didn't even realize we threw the old one out. (It had been sadly ripped by my sister's mutant wolf spawn and whenever she moved it from one room to the other it lost stuffing.) Doesn't she look happy?