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Okay, guys, if you have queasy stomachs or are just not in the mood for something heart-wrenching, do NOT read any further because seriously?  I woke up an hour ago and am still feeling upset and nauseated by a nightmare I had last night.  And, incidentally, I do not get queasy by gross things easily, so that should say something.  Although, admittedly, some of it was probably coming from being upset.

So, Squeamishy People, scoot.  That’s it.  Go along now…

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Okay, are they gone?  Here was my dream last night:

I was in a city for a job.  I think it was Tokyo, and when you hear the rest of the dream, Tokyo is the logical place for my brain to set this dream in with their “mad skillz” for sushi.  And, incidentally, I was there for a cooking job.  Kind of weird, since I’ve never considered cooking as a career, although, I have to admit, I’m a pretty good cook, good enough that when Jim and I went out a few weeks ago and was eating other people’s homemade stuff, he told me later that he was looking at his food and telling himself, “I’ll bet if Spring made this, it would actually be really good.”

I guess I have my own “skillz,” ha.  Even if I don’t have many of them.

Anyway, in this dream, I apparently decided to become a cook.  I was walking through the streets of the city.  There were women at doorways dressed like bunnies, trying to entice people to go into their restaurants.  One of them was the place of my future employment.  I walked in, tossed my jacket aside, and the head cook brought me in the back.

The head cook didn’t come off as a monster or anything.  I want to state that up front because I think it makes all this even worse.  She had a very soothing demeanor.  We started to cook together, chopping vegetables, chatting as we went along.  She told me about her restaurant’s history.  They were known as the best sushi restaurant in Tokyo, even in the world.  I had heard that before, which is why I wanted to work there.  She said that the reason why is because they would cut everything fresh, while it was still alive.

I guess I must have given her a look because she quickly assured me that the fish don’t feel anything.  “Myself and the other chefs here are so skilled, the animals feel almost nothing during the whole thing.”

Wait, I thought, mind reeling, we just went from “fish” to “animals”?  I wondered why the switch in words.

“Let me show you,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron, much like I’ve seen my own mother do while making dinner when I was a little girl.  The chef left the kitchen, then came back.

With a kitten.

And not just any kitten–my kitten, Gremlin.  He’s actually probably considered a cat now, but in the dream, he was still tiny.  He jumped around in the huge sink, trying to play with the necklace dangling from the chef’s neck.  She patted him reassuringly, then began wetting him down with the sink nozzel, as if all she was going to do was give him a bath.

Then she took out a butcher knife.  Oh, my god, it was awful.  She started slicing away at Gremlin’s tail, cutting it in rings.  Gremlin was oblivious, batting at some thing in the sink in front of him as she went to work.  Every once in a while, she would pause to scratch him behind his ears and coo at him that he was a good boy while he purred.  I tried to move, stop this awful bitch from cutting up my cat, but I realized I couldn’t move.

She kept going:  She started slicing the sides off him.  He was still quiet and happy.  I was still struggling, and at this point, trying to scream.  Something was keeping me paralyzed and mute, though.  The chef didn’t seem to even know I was there anymore.  She tilted Gremlin’s head up and started shaving thin slices off his neck.  And that’s when Gremlin started to feel a it.  His eyes grew big and round.  I heard a little mew come from him. 

And that’s I finally managed to overcome whatever was keeping me mute.  I screamed and screamed and screamed.

And, thankfully, woke up.  Jim’s arm was tight around me.  I almost woke him up to tell him my dream, but then I realized it would really upset him.  I myself was on the verge of tears (I rarely cry) and feeling sick (again, I don’t have a weak stomach), so I don’t even want to know how this dream would affect him.  So instead, I shoved Jim’s arm off, got out of bed, and hurried out of our bedroom.

Gremlin was waiting for me outside, not all cut up into slices, but very much whole and bouncing around my feet, eagerly waiting for me to get up and give him his breakfast.  I picked him up and gave him the BIGGEST HUG EVER.  And you know what?  I think I’m gonna spoil him tonight with some nice canned cat food.

Just not sushi.

I’ve been having a lot of dreams lately.  I don’t know what’s going on with my brain, but it’s like something unlocked, and it’s going to town on the dreamfront.  Last night, I had a dream that Jim and I had a large, ranch-style house with many doors.  We were sitting at the table, figuring out expenses for our wedding.  In the dream, the size of the wedding had grown, and so had the price, especially since we planned on paying for everyone’s hotel rooms. 

Thank god we don’t plan on any of this–you know, many people or motels or anything like that.

Anyway, Jim left through the door to get something.  I followed him, setting a big box of soda down as I did.  Don’t ask me where the soda came from.  So we went outside, went through another door to another section of the house, went back outside, and then started back through the original door that lead to the dining room.  Unfortunately, I had very stupidly left the soda box right in the doorway, and Jim tripped over it.  And he hurt himself–bad.  He started screaming.

The weird thing?  I woke up at this part, and I could still hear him screaming.  But there he was next to me, in real life, sleeping peacefully.

Jim thinks the audio thing is kind of weird–you know, how I could actually hear it while I was awake.  Is this uncommon?  I didn’t think it was. 

Anyway, as usual, I’m about to head out to work.  At least it’s Friday.  I’m even more anxious than usual to get home tonight because Jim claims that he’s got a surprise for me, that it’s got to be tonight (maybe that’s why he insisted on cancelling game?), and–interestingly enough–it’s not related to my birthday.

Gotta say:  I’m curious.

If I used my time wisely, I would be trying to pump out last week’s “Homebrewed” because we’re playing another session this afternoon.  As we all know, I do not use my time wisely.  Time management is not one of my strengths.  Which means I’ll be trying to cram in two “Homebreweds” in a week’s time. 

Unsurprisingly, I also wrote all my papers at the last minute in college, too.  (And I almost always got A’s.  So there.)

Instead, I’m going to go back to this post for a moment.  Remember when I said last week’s game was THE shortest ever because Jim was counting on having another “element” in the game for what Natalia’s about to do next?  Remember how I didn’t want to say what it was until he confirmed it?  Well, he finally confirmed it:  We’re going to be adding another player.  Phil, actually.  No, there won’t be a scheduling conflict between games since Phil’s game usually runs on Saturdays and we’ve moved ours to Friday nights.  We just happen to be running this afternoon (er, today’s Saturday, by the way) because Phil’s game had to be cancelled, since one of its players had to work.

We want to keep it to only one extra player, though.  I am not ready to play with a bunch of other people.  I still have problems with only Jim sometimes, but, honestly, I think Jim wanted to include Phil a long time ago.   Besides being his best friend (aside from me, of course, but I’ll share ), I think Jim feels that Phil would take some stress off him as a DM.  For one, if there’s another player with me, then he won’t have to run so many NPCs to tag along and keep me out of trouble.  Second, it doesn’t have to explain everything to Phil like he does me, since Phil has been doing this for a long time.  Third, Phil isn’t demanding as a player.  Hell, Phil’s not demanding as a person.  So Jim can still relax, whereas with some other people, he would constantly have to feel like he’s got to juggle to entertain.

I don’t even know why Jim would ever worry, as his story is crazy entertaining.  I think he keeps expecting me to squeal or something with excitement, though, and I’m just not that person.  Ask my parents who, every Christmas, tried to get me The Gift, the one that would make me jump up and down with excitement.  Yeah, that never happened.  In fact, I’ve never jumped up and down about anything in my life.  Ever. 

Damn, now I’m kinda bummed.

Moving on.  Speaking of Phil, he was in my dream last night, along with Jim.  I had taken a job driving a bus.  It looked like that bus in Harry Potter, so it was pretty crazy-looking.  I was trying to maneuver it in a forest, but 1) it was really dark, 2) the hills we were going down were way steep, and 3) we were also driving along cliffs.  Yeah.  CLIFFS.  ON BOTH SIDES.  Don’t ask me how the trees were there.  Floating in air, maybe?

Needless to say, I wasn’t very comfortable driving, so Phil took over, since he’s actually driven buses before.  So when I was paid, I forked over the money to him since, really, I had only driven about 15 minutes of the trip.  Only fair.

Jim, if you were wondering, was there as well, providing lot of commentary and being his hysterical self, but he stayed in one of the passenger seats–like hell he was going to drive down that crazy road in that crazy bus.  I might be dumb, but my man is not. 

In fact, I’m sure he’s smart enough to take me up on the breakfast invitation I’m about to extend.  You know, right after I wake his sleepy ass up.

Adieu!

I’ve been trying to make an effort to remember my dreams again.  I’m finding that it’s almost not worth the effort.  Most of the time, I just dream about work.  I can be in the most bizarre environment, like Smurfville, but I’m always adjusting insurance claims.  No fun.

Last night, I had a dream that I was at a laundromat trying to find a washer.  This laundromat was disgusting.  I mean, it’s worse than that one I used to go to, and in that one, I had to check the washers to make sure there were no dead roaches before putting clothes in.  So you know the dream-laundromat was pretty bad off. 

So that was that stupid dream.  Again, no fun.  But it started a conversation between me and Jim about how one day, we’re going to have our own washer and dryer.  You know.  When we have a house.

Funny, I’ve had these conversations before–with my ex.  About five months before he and I split, we had actually bought our first house.  It was pretty, but it was all looks: The structure was a mess, and in hindsight, I would never buy that house again.  As soon as we had moved into it, I started having nightmares about the house falling apart.  And I settled on too many things that I didn’t like, just because our lease was almost up and I was in a rush.

Next time, I’ll have money set aside specifically for breaking a lease, take my time, and get the house I really want.  I won’t settle so much.

Anyway, one of the really dumb things about my first house: 1) the washer and dryer hook-up was in the bathroom.  I went along with it, but it wasn’t until we moved in that number 2 became apparent, which is 2) there was no dryer vent.

My ex had absolutely no idea how to put in a dryer vent.  Furthermore, he wasn’t interested in finding out.  Doing handyman work made him nervous. 

Hearing that, Jim said, “That’s too bad.  Dryer vents are easy.”

Ooooh, I love when Jim reveals handyman know-how.  It’s all sexy.  I’m glad to know when I’m ready for a house again, I’ll have a man who actually knows something about fixing them up.  (And who has promised to teach me some things.)  For now, though, I’ll settle for my apartment.  Renting means the ability to uproot, and with the plans Jim and I have now, that ability far outweighs the benefits of settling down.

Wow.  It’s already Wednesday?  How did it get to be already Wednesday?  I’ll tell you how:  Sleep. Since Saturday, all I’ve done was sleep.  Last night was the first time I stayed up a normal amount of time.  I’ve been skipping the pain pills at work, choosing to just be uncomfortable over screwing things up too badly; at home, though, I’ll take one (not two, like they say I can–that amount COMPLETELY knocks me out) and after the one last night, I was like, Hell, yeah, I feel good.

Good enough, apparently, to do laundry and make dinner.  Don’t be impressed by that last one, mind you.  Dinner consisted of soup from a can.  But I DID use the stove and not the microwave.  (On the whole, I’m not a big fan of using the microwave to cook.)  So yay me.  Jim was hesitant to let me haul a basket of clothes to and from the laundromat here, but I insisted.  I’m tired of lying around, tired of not feeling useful.  Also, very tired of scrounging for socks.

Made a call to my friend Meagan, who had left me a voicemail on Saturday, which, obviously, I was tied up with the ER, so I couldn’t exactly call her back, and then I was mostly too drugged up and tired to notice I had voicemails until yesterday at work.  She didn’t sound good, so I gave her a call back.  Not sure of the details of what’s going on, but she did tell me something that was kinda funny: She had a dream that she and I went to the Rocky Horror Picture Show here on campus, and we ran into the Evil Ex and the Backstabbing Ex-Best Friend, and she went off on them.  I think it bugged her, but I think it’s funny.  Personally, I’m really glad the way things worked out.  Every time I see the ex, he looks fucking miserable, and I know why–who–is responsible for it.  It’s karma at it’s best.  Meanwhile, I’m with the greatest guy in the world, in exactly the relationship I’ve always wanted.  Although, I have to admit that secretly, when I’m tired and happy and sleeping next to Jim, I remember my ex–and hope he ditches the Money Pit and finds someone who actually, you know, loves him so he can be happy one day, too.

Nobody deserves that much bad karma.

Right now, I’m watching Twilight.  Funny how I”ll watch movies over and over again that I don’t really feel strongly about.  I know a lot of people will hate me for this, but I don’t quite get the big fuss over the movie.  This might sound funny because I have all the books and the movie, which I watch repeatedly.  It’s not that I dislike the Twilight.  It’s all right.  It’s just for me, it’s a “comfort” movie, one that I put in just to have noise in the background and forget about.

One could argue that there really isn’t much of anything I feel strongly about anyway, except maybe Jim and a couple others.   And, of course, my cats.  I feel bad admitting this, but there are people I used to talk to and really like a lot, and when we drifted apart, it just didn’t bother me.  I know that sounds awful, but it’s the truth.  I care a lot about people, I’ll worry about them and all that crap, but if they go away, that’s just fine by me.  I don’t know why I’m like that.

OH.  When I mentioned my cats in that last paragraph, I remembered this AWFUL dream I had last night.  In my dream, I had all the cats I’ve ever had:  Tigger and Kili (who are now dead), Gypsy (have no idea what happened to her), Ash (who my ex gave to a friend of ours without my knowledge and then lied about it to me, telling me that the cat had run away), Piper and Emmy–the two who are now with me and Jim. 

Okay, so now that you’ve had the cat rundown, in the dream, I had a gun and was told I had to shoot them.  I don’t remember why, but it was “shoot them to save them” kind of thing that is only logical in dreamworld.  I shot Tigger and Kili, but my hands were trembling so bad because of the horror of it, they didn’t die.  In fact, they seemed all right, just hurt.  I started to cry and begged the mysterious, invisible person who was making me do this.  I insisted that maybe we didn’t really need to shoot them to save them.  Maybe we could reverse what I had just done.  I looked at Kili, who rolled a little on his back and looked up at me with big, round eyes.  His stomach was shaved, just like it was in his last days from the constant visits to the vets before I lost him to pancreatic cancer.  Emmy huddled near by him.  I couldn’t imagine losing her, too.

God, it was awful.

Okay, enough about depressing dreams.  Normally, I’m not alone on Thursday nights, but apparently, they changed the schedule at Jim’s work on him.  Last night, he was supposed to go in 1 AM, but he got a call at 10:20 PM right when were in the middle of watching an episode of Angel.  So that sucked, especially because Jim has been sleeping a lot earlier this week (hence, why I’ve been able to do so much leveling on Warcraft lately), so I had been looking forward to spending time with him.  I guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow night, although I know he’s going to be busy with his new toys.

Which brings me to the new thing around here:  Jim is obsessed with Space Marines.  I call them his “little army guys,” which, apparently, Jim’s boss finds humorous.  Jim’s obsession is evident on my desktop: He has a wallpaper of one with a caption that says I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over how awesome I am.  He and his boss (who is also a very good friend of Jims) have decided they’re going to start playing Warhammer 40k .  I’ve already been advised that this is going to happen on Wednesdays–okay, not “advised” because Jim always asks if things are okay with me first–but playing the game won’t happen for quite some time.  Turns out all those little shits have to be painted.  Sometimes, I just don’t get the whole “gaming” world.  See, to me, that sounds like work, not fun.  How is that a game?  Warcraft, I can deal with: I point, I click or hit a button, I kill or get killed.  Okay, it’s not quite that simplistic, but I play games to relax, not do more work.  Still, I support Jim if he wants to do this.  As a consequence, I have little army guys stripped down to their little white butts around my apartment, waiting for Jim’s paints to arrive.

(Okay, I exaggerate.  Clothing doesn’t appear to be optional on these guys.  Which, SEE?  Less fun.)

Well, the pills I took earlier are making me drowsy, and frankly, I was oddly exhausted today, so I think I’d like to get a little extra sleep tonight.  I think I just bored myself sleepy.