Apparently, It Was Prophetic

Val's dreams this week have been off the wall, off the hook, off the chain.

I don't know what's going on in my unconscious hours, but I seem to be getting around. Here's the thing. I can usually figure out what triggered certain parts of the dream. For instance, watching an episode of Tiny House Nation made me dream about living in a tiny house. When I used to work as a basketball coach, I had dreams that my team broke into my townhouse, raced up the stairs to my bedroom, and demanded to know who was starting the next game.

Last night, I dreamed about writing a blog post about my dream.

That's kind of like publishing a coffee table book about coffee tables, I think. It's not like I'm stressed about writing blog posts. In fact, the rest of my dream involved an old high school buddy who came back to visit. We took a tour of our old haunts. Then we were teaching together in a school that was apparently housed in my childhood house trailer. My classroom was my mom and dad's bedroom. My buddy said, "Something's going down! Look outside!" And all the people and cars had diappeared from the parking lot. I stuck my head out the bedroom door, stepped into the hall. "NO! There's an intruder!" I saw people scurry. Didn't get my head blown off. Just saw a page with BLOG at the top, and my story being typed out word by word. I forget the opening sentence. I really should make notes of these things. I might be missing Flaming Globes of Sigmund.

Good thing I don't throw the javelin as a hobby. Hick might get the worst end of that deal.