Sweet dreams are made of this

Last night, I had a meeting with my good friend¬†sauvignon¬†blanc. We had a nice, long conversation and when we were done, I had a very quick chat with my friend merlot, which was not a very smart idea. So when I woke up at 6:30 this morning, gasping and sweaty and CRYING, it took me a minute to figure out why I didn’t feel very well on top of the nightmare I had just woken up from. It was a bad nightmare, too real and dark and based around one of my biggest fears: the death of someone I love. Correction: one of my biggest fears is the death of someone I love by their own hand.

I stayed up for a few hours, surfing Tumblr and Facebook and watching The Office, and eventually fell asleep again. AND THEN I HAD THE MOST EPIC DREAM EVER.

Okay, so Electric Girl and I were on the Titantic IN SPACE (it didn’t crash though) and we landed on a planet that WORSHIPPED THE FLINTSTONES. They dressed up their planet’s equivalent of elephants as dinosaurs and carried big blow-up clubs and wore Fred Flintstone costumes. And then I was trying to help someone who had been captured by the aliens but then my dream diverted to something else — babysitting Jeremy Affeldt’s oldest son. I was trying to make him balloon animals and failing miserably, so Jeremy Affeldt came over to take over. I think he was mad because I wasn’t talking about Jesus enough.

I still love you, Sister Christian

Disturbed

I’ve been particularly haunted lately by people who have gone before us. In dreams, in random thoughts popping into my head…I’m most disturbed/shaken by a dream I had over the weekend. I don’t want to go into it here; it was a little personal, but it was just an odd thing to dream about and while it wasn’t a bad dream – on the contrary, it was nice and relatively happy – it has stuck with me for the past few days and I’m not really sure how to shake the feeling.

In other news, this week is proving to be busier on the personal front as opposed to the work front, which is DELICIOUS. Have to run errands tomorrow night (hopefully to find some layering clothes for Thursday, which is…) and then we head to SF on Thursday afternoon for the last game of the Giants-Padres series. I am crossing my fingers for a win but the Padres spank us at home a lot, so who knows. But really, as much as I’d love to see a win, just being there is good enough for me. It’s going to be my first MLB game and the first baseball game I’ve been to in 10 years. I AM EXCITE, Y’ALL.

Our Fourth of July passed like any other weekend-like day: we lounged around, watched baseball, went swimming, and ate some grub. We’re not much for celebrating Nationalist holidays, so we were content to just eat some hot dogs and call it a day. I thoroughly enjoyed my day off work and returned this morning semi-refreshed but very sleepy. As per usual.

In honor of Thursday, where upon I hope to see this man eat a few Padres for dinner.


Dream a little dream

First, some levity.

I had a dream last night that I borrowed a super secret Gallifreyan book from Electric Girl and accidentally told Tumblr all about it, because it had some really juicy and awesome information in it about the Giants, who happened to be Time Lords. All of them. Well, the Council of Time Lords found out about it and I had to meet with them – Aubrey Huff and Freddy Sanchez. Aubs was NOT amused and really, I was looking down the barrel of a loaded gun because the punishment for divulging Time Lord information was DEATH. But before they decided what to do with me, we had to watch a rookie try and play all the positions at once during a game. He was a scrawny little redhead named Barry Bonds.

THE JOKES WRITE THEMSELVES, LADIES AND GENTS.

And now for something a little more serious. Today is PTSD Awareness Day. It’s an important day because of the number of people who suffer from PTSD in this country. It’s particularly important because of our men and women in uniform who return home with PTSD and are either given half-assed help or not help at all. But I also want to draw attention to the people who have PTSD and haven’t fought in war. It’s a very real thing and a lot of time, non-military people with PTSD are kind of frowned upon. At least that’s the experience I’ve had. When I tell people that I know someone with C-PTSD (complex PTSD), they always ask “Oh, how long did they serve?” and when I say they didn’t, they just kind of side-eye me like I’m lying. I’m not lying.

So if you know someone with PTSD, give them a hug today (if they’re up to it). In fact, give them a hug everyday that they’re up to it. They deserve it.