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So weird dreams for me lately.
Earlier this week, I dreamed that while waiting in line at a doctor's office, another patient attacked me, and bit me (or stabbed me, I can't actually recall which, because in true dream logic, I discounted the injury as irrelevant once I'd walked away from the attacker,) right over my dragonfly tattoo that's on my sacrum. That tattoo was my self-gift for finishing my first novel, and the kanji in it (Kessin) stand for "determination", though I didn't remember that it was there in the dream. While waiting in that same line later in the week, I learned that the same man who had attacked me, had then been allowed to remain in the waiting room after I'd shaken him off and left, and that he had later attacked and severely beaten the doctor I'd been there to see. And THAT freaked me out. And THAT woke me up, too -- that weird logic disconnect. I do recall that the attacker looked not unlike Charles Manson, assuming he'd been living under a bridge for the past 30 years, instead of in a supermax.
Then last night, I dreamed that Dave Grohl gave me a pedicure.
I KNOW!
Look, I'm not even a Foo Fighters fan. At all. But somehow in the dream, he and I were good enough buddies that I felt comfortable lounging around his bedroom with my shoes off, and didn't bat an eye when he took it upon himself to fix my toenails. Which he then snapped off in one go, like they were those plastic press-on nails that come joined together in a package, and have at them with a friggin dremel tool! Okay, I did kind of flinch when he broke all my toenails off my foot in one go, but when I realized that it hadn't hurt (just felt a little cold) and that the nail beds weren't particularly sensitive without the nails, I just shrugged it off, and watched him work.
He tossed each one to me once he'd got it shaped down to where he liked it, but I didn't know how to put them back on again, since they didn't want to stick properly. I think I just tucked them into my pocket or something. I do know that he got distracted or interrupted halfway through though, and so he never did the other foot.
What the actual fuck, subconscious? Are we exploring new fetish territory or something? Because I gotta tell ya, my waking mind is STILL squicking out about exposed nail beds and toe nails in my pocket, and ZOMG!shiverrrrr!
Taking feet as a metaphor for foundation, and toenails as a protection element, I still can't work out what the fuck Dave Grohl has to do with anything!
My brain: It's a silly place.
Earlier this week, I dreamed that while waiting in line at a doctor's office, another patient attacked me, and bit me (or stabbed me, I can't actually recall which, because in true dream logic, I discounted the injury as irrelevant once I'd walked away from the attacker,) right over my dragonfly tattoo that's on my sacrum. That tattoo was my self-gift for finishing my first novel, and the kanji in it (Kessin) stand for "determination", though I didn't remember that it was there in the dream. While waiting in that same line later in the week, I learned that the same man who had attacked me, had then been allowed to remain in the waiting room after I'd shaken him off and left, and that he had later attacked and severely beaten the doctor I'd been there to see. And THAT freaked me out. And THAT woke me up, too -- that weird logic disconnect. I do recall that the attacker looked not unlike Charles Manson, assuming he'd been living under a bridge for the past 30 years, instead of in a supermax.
Then last night, I dreamed that Dave Grohl gave me a pedicure.
I KNOW!
Look, I'm not even a Foo Fighters fan. At all. But somehow in the dream, he and I were good enough buddies that I felt comfortable lounging around his bedroom with my shoes off, and didn't bat an eye when he took it upon himself to fix my toenails. Which he then snapped off in one go, like they were those plastic press-on nails that come joined together in a package, and have at them with a friggin dremel tool! Okay, I did kind of flinch when he broke all my toenails off my foot in one go, but when I realized that it hadn't hurt (just felt a little cold) and that the nail beds weren't particularly sensitive without the nails, I just shrugged it off, and watched him work.
He tossed each one to me once he'd got it shaped down to where he liked it, but I didn't know how to put them back on again, since they didn't want to stick properly. I think I just tucked them into my pocket or something. I do know that he got distracted or interrupted halfway through though, and so he never did the other foot.
What the actual fuck, subconscious? Are we exploring new fetish territory or something? Because I gotta tell ya, my waking mind is STILL squicking out about exposed nail beds and toe nails in my pocket, and ZOMG!shiverrrrr!
Taking feet as a metaphor for foundation, and toenails as a protection element, I still can't work out what the fuck Dave Grohl has to do with anything!
My brain: It's a silly place.
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