I had the weirdest fucking dream last night

As my title states...I had the weirdest fucking dream last night. I went to sleep kind of early because I was soooo tired and as soon as I fell asleep I was scared. I hate those kind of dreams because I never know at first why I am scared. It is like coming into a horror movie a half hour late. The weirdest part was that in my dream I was just in my bed at home. I could tell Mike was next to me and I knew that Pocky was there too. Before I go on I guess I should explain. Pocky is our pug min-pin mix. She goes by many names but her full name is Apocalypse Momo Von Doom. She is the cutest and oddest dog in the entire world. We got her for free from some guy that was too selfish to have a dog. She sleeps right in between Mike and I usually smashed under one of us. We think she is autistic or "dogtistic" (see former posts) because she likes to be squeezed. We make her say ridiculous, horrible, racist things (even tho we are the most un-racist people out there) because she is so cute and we like the contrast. Hence the spike collar. Anyway enough about her...on with my dream. So, I am in my bed but awake not knowing why I am so scared and then I see this little guy. I had to draw him because there is no way I could describe him well enough. He appeared on my chest like this:

Except he was less cartoony and way more scary than this picture. But he wasn't even the scariest part. It was what he planned to do to me. That is the other thing that was fucked up about this dream - before you start thinking dirty things...you freaks- it wasn't like that. He was going to unravel me...yes unravel...like a sweater. That is what I hate them most about dreams like that. He never said he was going to unravel me..I just knew it. Which is ten million times worse. But I couldn't move or talk or anything...of course...so I was just lying there waiting to be unraveled. But then...just when he was going to start Pocky barked in the "real world" and it woke me up. But I was still scared. So I crawled up next to Mike and grabbed Pocky for good measure and tried to go back to sleep hoping that the dude wouldn't show up again. And he didn't...at least not that I can remember.

See...that was fucked up.

Regret, Headaches, and Transformers

I didn't like that font. It was too close together. It gave me a headache. Not like that is very hard these days...seems like lately if a leaf touches my head I get a massive headache. I think it is my brain telling me to shut the fuck up and relax. I feel exhausted when I wake up in the morning and that, my friends, is just ridiculous. I feel like I have been playing an uber-intense "hiding for your life" game of hide and go seek...all night long. Why? you ask? Why do I feel like this even in my sleep? Because I seem to be drowning in regret lately. It seems like every decision I make I regret...and if I don't regret it...I feel like I could have made a better one.

Maybe that still is regret...I dunno. See! I just regretted using the phrase regret. I tell you...something is coming over me and I don't like it. My dad is like this...only on a much bigger level. I am not blaming him because I don't like it when people blame all their bad traits on their parents. I am just saying that now I get where he was coming from a little better. But now the question is: how do I get out of it? I don't really know yet but I am hoping that I can figure it out over the next couple of weeks cause I need some sleep! Stay tuned bloggie readers (all 2 of you)to see the miraculous conclusion of Regretful Laura. By the way...the main happiness I get from life is smashing two words together to make a new "omniword" and it is pissing me off that I can't do it with blog readers. It comes out as bleaders...which is just wrong. reaggers? maybe...i dunno...still have to work on that one.

On a completely other topic...sort of...I think I shouldn't be alone in my regret soup because last night we watched Transformers, and Mr. Michael Bay should be swimming in here right along with me. Some of the fights were neat...some parts were sorta funny...and the rest was just garbage. How many story arcs should one "robot" movie have? Apparently 12 not including the underdeveloped love story.

It would have been so good...if they made the transformers design less busy, took out almost every other human except Shia Labouf, removed the military element entirely and for god sakes...can we please leave out the "hot girl who knows cars(at least knows that his car stopped because the gasket cap was loose), cause she used to steal them, with her dad, who is in jail, cause she turned him in, who rides on a moped yet has the skills to drive a tow truck with a giant robot hooked to it backwards thru a crazy city?"...wait...now that I think about it...this is the only movie where a character like that could have ever existed. Well done Mr. Bay...you are creative.

Lala

I was just thinking last night...

Wow, I haven't written anything on here since July. That is a long fucking time. I think it is because I have been trying to get together a book. So all of my errant thoughts have gone onto paper. I know, I know, it seems a bit old fashioned but my best thoughts seem to come to me where a computer is not only unavailable but totally inappropriate. Like in the middle of the night or in the shower. I guess paper and pencil is a little ridiculous in the shower too but you know what I mean. I think I am going to get some of those crayons that you can draw with in the shower so I can remember stuff. But because this blog isn't meant to be the story of the shower I shall move the hell on.

This bloggie is about some thoughts I was having last night before I went to bed. I was thinking about Mike, my husband. Our relationship ALWAYS seems to be the target for criticism. True, it is always people that I don't care about enough to actually talk to them for real and it is always a very "outside looking in" comment on us...but it still pisses me off. I happen to feel that we have an extremely strong partnership. So I got to thinking why it is always questioned and I think I figured it out. People still have such a fucked up view on what happiness is and what the reality of two people going thru life is that it makes us look weird. My Gram always used to say that she knew we were going to be together forever because we can call each other retards, laugh, talk about some sticky situation we are in and then kiss all in the span of 5 minutes...while driving in the car...while Mike is on the phone. We just try to be real. I was telling a story to a former co worker of mine once and by the time I was done you would have thought I told her about how I raped her cat. I was telling her about when we got married (at a state park for less than 2 grand btw) we left the reception and went back to the room...and soon got hungry and bored. So we called up some friends of ours to see if they wanted to go to Denny's. So on our "wedding night" we had an awesome meal and conversation with friends. That is fun for us. We could have sat in the suite with candles and stared into each others' eyes but that would have been totally lame. So she was horrified (I believe her wedding cost about as much as a house-and horses and crowns were involved) but that is how we are. We are weirdly independent and at the exact same time I need him more than air.

So, why does it bother me so much that people constantly want to say we are wrong and have a weak relationship? Normally I would say thanks, fuck off, and that would be that. But this really bothers me. I think it is because with ALL of the the stuff that I fuck up in my life I strive to make my relationship good. I may falter here and there with some things because I have a fucking hurricane in my brain at all times but I really try to make this good. And It makes me mad when people put all of their weird fucked up stuff on me. So, this is what I was thinking about last night before I went to sleep. I told you it was a hurricane in there. Thanks for reading...