Sunday, August 01, 2004


It's a known fact that a lot of my dreams deal with an excessive amount of anxiety. I have at least three bad dreams a week and frequent nightmares. Rarely are the dreams dealing with actual events I'm worrying about in real life. When shopping at the mall, I don't fear that a huge alligator is going to gobble my friends and me. But that's happened in a dream. My dreams range from the standard "walking around in public with no pants" to "being pursued by a crazed murderer and watching him hack up a bunch of innocent people before its my turn" to some rather unique situations. Often these dreams include Chris, but not the kinds of things I spend time fretting about (like, is he going to bust his ass again playing ice hockey tonight).

I wouldn't even bother to bring up this dream if it wasn't for Tony's blog entry today. He mentioned Ricky Ricardo -- how often does that happen? Friday night I had a Ricky Ricardo anxiety dream and while Tony did not make an appearance, the subject of Tony did. TB and Chris can vouch for the dream because I shared it over dinner last night (although I didn't understand the significance of the second half of the dream and only shared the Ricky Ricardo part). Also, as you can gather from Tony's blog, he's been dealing with his own anxiety issues as of late. So what does this all mean? Interpretations are welcome. The dream below:

I brought Chris to a "literary" party. He had an injured leg so instead of sending him off to get me a drink, I asked him what he wanted. He asked for water and a Coke. When I came back with the drinks, he was canoodling with a woman I did not recognize and was singing the Ricky Ricardo "We're Having a Baby, My Baby and Me" song to this hussie. They ignored me, so I set the drinks down and decided to mingle. I was devastated that he knocked up this broad, but decided to be strong and not let it ruin my night. I bumped into a poet friend of mine who said "Let's first take care of business, you should know that I'm moving to Portland, Oregon." I said that I knew another poet from that area and mentioned Tony. My poet friend said he never heard of him. Then this friend grabbed my ass and walked away. I went back to the room where Chris was crooning his baby's mama, but they were gone.


At 2:15 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I think it means that Chris is secretly Cuban.

At 8:48 AM, Blogger Phatback said...

See? I don't care if you are married, you better start putting out for your husband or some whore with a gimp fetish is going to take care of his needs!


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