Thursday, October 10, 2002

Oh, my. Am sleeping long, erratic hours...I just slept from some time when it was still light outside until 11 p.m.

My cat and dog are totally enabling this uncontrolled napping. Fred not longer wants to be cuddled as he did when he was very small. He will lay in a sleepy circle on the floor, and if you reach out to pet him, he will instantly begin purring, allow you to pet him no more than three times, jump up, playfully (and mostly painlessly) bite you, and lay down somewhere else.

But if you read a book or take a nap, he will wait until you are completely engrossed or in REM sleep, then curl up under your arms or behind your knees, (depending on where Bella has hunkered down, if she is behind knees, then Fred goes for in your arms, and vice versa) so that anytime I am horizontal, I am graced with the comforting presence of a sleepy dog and purring cat. This makes not moving, continuing to read, and then nap with no real time I need to wake up, almost completely irresistible.

On the other hand, I keep having bad dreams that make me not want to sleep. I keep dreaming that I am pregnant and need to have an engagement ring before nurses will let me leave hospital with unknown and unseen child. Sometimes this dream ends with my trying to shop for post-baby clothes in Victoria's Secret style post-maternity shop called X where Christie Brinkley is the saleswoman who keeps showing me cute clothes, but only in size four, which is defintely not my size anyway, let alone my subconscious post-pregnancy weight in the dream. Rosie O'Donnell keeps showing up in this dream, as does her partner. All three of us are in labor with three separate babies.

I also keep dreaming that I am stuck in assassin-style shoot-out with Katie Holmes in a WB sitcom, and that Sarah Michelle Gellar wants me to load my gun with Detrol, a medication I am currently taking for bad things that happen when I laugh too hard, as it is the only way to kill Katie Holmes. In this sitcom, I stop at Isaac's, which is open until midnight, where I order a Phoenix on a pretzel (favorite sandwich there) and flirt with the cute deli guy who later climbs into a shower with me, although he turns out to be only four feet tall, which kills the mood, which is how the censors avoid showing sex on WB sitcom.

No more dreaming, please. I read Alissa's page today and IMed her about her entry about weird dreams, which may have somehow kicked off weird dreaming jag during marathon nap whenever I fell asleep this afternoon/evening until 11 p.m.

Now I have talked on the phone for two hours to people I love, one person who is also going to the class reunion, who is supposed to be figuring out the correct meaning and context of art history terms in German, all of which, directly translated, mean "germanartlighttechnique" or some such thing, and the other person who also misses me, also thinks this week's edition of The Onion is very funny, also has no money with which to come see me and also wishes we could have sex tonight. (Hallo, Becky and Stephen! In that order, v. important.)

Must finish new portfolios. Must not grocery shop, must eat ramen in cupboard and not order Chinese take-out with twelve dollar minimum for delivery. Must be patient, because when the Merald needs help next, it will probably turn into twelve nonstop days of long hours as asst editor is having surgery and things will be v. busy. Must be productive in non "working for money" days and finish wedding samples, portfolios and brochures.

Must. Not. Nap. and give self "Jennie Dikks" (sic) style Chronic Fatigue Disorder. Must eat soup and keep working. It's 1:30 a.m. Do you know where your subconscious infant is?

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