Nothing to See Here…

I had a dream.

It wasn’t like Martin Luther King, Jr.’s dream, all inspirational and shit.  It was the crazy workings of my sub-conscious that take over while I’m asleep.

I dream a lot and I often remember and do amateur analysis on my dreams.  Sometimes they are pretty crystal clear (like the one where my husband introduces me to another chick and says “Since you never want sex, I’m going to start having sex with her.”  - that one was pretty clear ha-ha) but sometimes I have no friggin’ clue what they mean or where they come from.

The earliest dream I can recall having is the one where my mom was under the bed juggling.  Oh, sure, it seems funny now, but to a five year old, well, a mother is expected to be sane and rational - in control.  You can’t have a mother under the bed juggling, even if the Big Red Dog was making her do it (and why did he keep catching and eating the balls???), because then the whole world doesn’t make sense and becomes a scary place.  

Stop laughing.  It was very scary!!

I fly in my dreams fairly regularly.  Those are my favorite.  Oh, they don’t start out all wonderful.  Usually it takes so much work to get off the ground.  It’s so hard.  And often, something is chasing me and I just barely get airborne before it nearly catches me.  But once I’m up there, it’s a powerful feeling, that flying business.  It’s still hard work to stay up there, and I have to watch for trees and wires and rooftops.  Flying is hard work, but it’s still a very freeing feeling.  (Say that three times fast!  I stuttered even typing it.)

Yesterday morning, I woke up laughing.  When I was in that ethereal place between sleep and wakefulness, I was somewhat lucid and telling myself “Don’t forget this dream - don’t lose this one.  You must recall this.  It’s too good to forget.” and my brain held onto it.  Not all the details, it’s still very fuzzy around the edges, but the main parts.

There was this girl.  Her name was Rachel.  And she was my husband’s daughter from a previous relationship.  In my dream, she was someone that we had always had around - it wasn’t a newly discovered daughter or anything.  So, for a long time, she had just been my step-daughter, Rachel. 

But then Bill told me that her real name was Neptuna Oriental.  In fact, he was the one who chose and bestowed that name upon her.  But the girl’s mother didn’t like it, so she called her Rachel and it caught on with everyone else.  No one called her Neptuna Oriental and my husband’s feelings were kind of hurt over that, because he chose that name and gave it to her in pure love. 

She was his little Neptuna Oriental.

And in the dream, I was laughing my ass off because it was fucking hilarious.  And this was hurting his feelings even more but I just couldn’t stop laughing.

All day yesterday, I kept asking him “Dude, why would you name your kid Neptuna Oriental?  That is so weird!”

He gets really annoyed when he is held accountable in real life for the bizarre shit that happens in my sub-conscious while I sleep.  Like, for example, when I got mad at him for bringing that chick home to have sex with.  He doesn’t think he should be punished for those sorts of things.  Me?  I think if his dream-self would be better behaved, he wouldn’t need to face The Wrath of the Waking Linda.  The ball is really in his court on that, wouldn’t you say?

Still, I have no idea what this most recent dream means.  Does it mean I’m worried about evidence of a past relationship coming out?  Do I feel jealous of his relationship with another person who is completely separate from the family he and I have built?  Or perhaps I just find his taste in names appalling?  Do I think he is keeping secrets that he might spring on me at anytime, surprising me?  Amusing me?  Do I feel like I just can’t help but be hurtful where his feelings are concerned?

I know this much - if I ever were to get pregnant again (because, birth control?  who needs birth control!), I’m definitely not letting him name the child.  Oh, sure, he thinks Hazel Lisette is a horrifying name, but stack it up next to Neptuna Oriental and it’s practically as plain as Mary Ann (not that that’s not a perfectly lovely name, because it is!) 

Such a bizarre dream.  I’m trying to remember the last time I had such a vivid, crazy-ass dream…  Oh, dear lord, I couldn’t possibly be… maybe I am… tell me I’m not.  {faint}

But if I am?  Hazel Lisette.  Count on it.