I dream about cookies. Crumbly bits.

Eternally* I will wonder if there were truly cookie crumbs down my top while I slept. I vaguely recall a mid-slumber freakout of “something” crawling around in my cleavage. Dream? Coincidence that I baked new cookies? One can never be too certain.

*By eternal, I mean, next Spring, when I decide to finally vacuum because there are now ANTS in the bed.

Although I did dream vividly about Drug Mart – a discount store where I worked as a video queen some twelve years ago during college – complete with appearances by middle management and coworkers.

And one overpaid $50 gift card for my grandmother. Seriously, dumb shit gift card seller girl, I asked for FIFTEEN.

Yet, I paid for it anyway. Weird. Maybe Grandma will buy lots of soup.

And I signed for it with the same green pen as I signed my holiday cards… LAST NIGHT. Coincidence?

I also dreamed I was cheating on my boyfriend (BUT WE DIDN’T SLEEP TOGETHER!!!) with a guy who I do not know, and who owned a farm. And a pickup truck. My dream guy was hot (perhaps a bit too young)… but, meh. Farming? Ive heard awesome things about horses, but let’s not make this blog about bestiality.

I have only high hopes for meaning in this life.

Meanwhile, soon after AB gets me out of bed in the morning (after crab-assing and falling through shower curtains and rubbing hair serum on my FACE), I instantly think about this tattooed, gothy, nice-breasted woman. Hot – reminiscent of “Kim” who worked at the Platinum Horse WAY back in the heyday of Brookpark Road.  But what does it mean, dream? (see what I did there?)

There are not enough strippers in my life, obvs. Or that we need to make out.

What the hell Christmas Ale?

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