A horrible but helpful 4 a.m. dream.

This will make less sense structurally to anyone who doesn’t know what my house looks like or the situations going on in my family right now.  That being said, I just woke up from this:

I’m sleeping in what I consider “my” room, but is actually the room my mother sleeps in (that used to be my room when I was a kid).  The changes that we made to the house are still present though–there’s the back door, but instead of being in my mother’s room, it’s in the hallway between the bathroom and her room.

So I’m “sleeping” there, but for some reason, I’m not 100% asleep.  I either have a dream about (yes, in my dream), or I’d had a long day of distributing something to people’s houses, talking with one of my friends’ ex-girlfriends who was just starting to date him again (or at least trying to), and getting paired up with someone at school (by Dr. Whitaker?!) to counsel.  But now it’s nighttime, and I’m in bed, and for some reason Kellen is there (now it’s his house instead of mine, maybe, because I get this feeling like I definitely shouldn’t be sleeping there).  Anyway, he gives me four little books, like the Alphabet books at Stony Brook Child Care, thanking me for letting him borrow them, and telling me it’s because of something with Dylan (the dog).  All I can think is that he’s going to be very standoffish with me, because he doesn’t know if I’ll come back.  With that, the door from the hallway to the yard creaks open (I can see this through a small slit in my closed-over door).  Someone creeps very silently through the door and into the kitchen, where I start to hear rummaging.  I reach for my phone, but it’s not there and I wonder, where the hell is my phone, and why didn’t I put it in bed with me (as I do every night)? while “Shh”-ing Kellen, and thinking, there’s no way he’s going to listen to me and stay quiet.

And then I wake up, with the complete understanding that my phone is not with me in bed.  Apparently, I had forgotten, in my sleepy slumber at bedtime, to strap it to the battery and set the alarm (for an hour earlier, so I can get some extra work done in the morning).  So was this dream a manifestation of the scary stuff my head doesn’t want to think about, or just my brain’s way of telling me, “hey, idiot–you forgot to set an alarm!”  Hrm.  Maybe it’s both.  Yeah, it’s probably both.

But at least now my alarm’s set.  Happy 4 a.m. 70-degree Friday!  Catch ya’ll on the flip! (Do people still say that?)


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