Dreaming is for ROCKSTARS

So the other day I had a weird dream. For those of you in real life, who know me, know not only do I talk in my sleep but I have some vivid ass dreams.

My husband is SO LUCKY (yes, that's sarcasm). This is the kind of stuff he gets day in and day out...

Me: Damn, that was vivid.
Hubs: *rubs eyes* Huh?
Me: My dream, it was wicked. I lost a leg.
Hubs: Were you in the army?
Me: *giggles* That's absurd. I don't like war. It was in a doctor's office, or something like that. There was this bad guy, he drugged me with some weird stuff that makes you woozy and not feel pain. He cut off my left leg, only up to the knee cap, and then told me he was going to leave me there to bleed.
Hubs: Seriously?
Me: Yeah, but I wasn't scared. It was a trip, weird not feeling scared. There was a McDonald's out the window and a table that had my escape route planned out. It was wicked. There were two dead bodies, girls who looked just like me, no legs... wicked I tell you.
Hubs: I don't know how to respond.
Me: *ignores his comment* What's super weird was that was his profession. He made prosthetic legs... I don't know his plans for the real one's he was taking, but I was going to survive. I know I was.
Hubs: And then you woke.
Me: Yup. What's brilliant is it fits perfectly in with my young adult novel idea. Genius. I love weird dreams like that. They make my day.
Hubs: Cool (said in a dull tone, of course). You should shower or we'll be late.

Moral of the story: Don't go to bed hungry or McDonalds debuts (can't get away from them).

There you have it. I just proved dreaming is for rockstars (or the mentally unstable). How do you dream?