My dreams make me question my sanity.

When I was pregnant, I had this reoccurring dream that involved Alan Jackson and a golf cart.  Very Bonnie and Clydeish, we had stolen said cart and were blazing around Lincoln, Nebraska.  The cops were in pursuit, but for some reason, could not catch up to us with our magical golf cart.

When I was a child, I had this reoccurring dream that I was running for my life through our shelterbelt, because I was being chased by this Godzilla-sized gorilla.  I'd run, and trip (because there's a bunch of random shit in our shelterbelt), he would gain on me, I'd run faster, I'd trip, and eventually I'd fall face down, to flip over and feel the hot breath and drool drippings of the gorilla on my face.

Of course, when I was a kid, I also convinced myself that, at night, my floor was covered with writhing snakes, so if I had to pee in the middle of the night, I had to jump as close to my door in order to escape the snakes.  Very Indiana Jones and his snake pit anxiety.

Last night, my dream involved Quinn, The Pioneer Woman - Ree Drummond - (I should clarify that I don't know her personally, although I sure wish I did, by her blog, she sounds like a complete kick in the pants, and I envy her cooking skills hardcore), one of their ranch hands, and her eldest daughter.  For whatever reason, we're driving towards their ranch, and all of a sudden, a tornado appears out of nowhere.  At this point, Quinn and daughter disappear, and PW, ranch hand, and I head for a quonset (because THAT makes perfect sense in a tornado), where we pull down a bookshelf (don't ask, I just report the news), and wait out the storm.  After the tornado passes, I realize I'm not wearing a bra, because I had decided that if I was going to die, it was going to be in comfort, I guess.  Quinn and daughter headed to the house with a BASEMENT, like normal people, and were perfectly fine.

The above dreams were brought to you today by the letters W, T, and F, and the number crazy.

There are many more dreams where I wake up thinking what the fuck is wrong with me?!?!? but I can never remember them long enough to write them down.  However, last night's dream was so vivid, that the details are staying with me.  I'm pretty sure that if I told any type of professional, they'd up my meds and probably add some more, or just say screw it, and take my measurements for that comfy white robe with the velcro straps they keep talking about...

Happy Saturday!