The menopause fairy has not been kind to Ol’ Quitter.
It all started about a year ago when her internal thermostat went on the fritz and now sleep no longer seems to be her friend either. So what’s an overheated, sleep deprived, middle-aged woman to do? According to the inter-ma-net, try the miracle that is cannabis in gummy form. Really, is there anything that the Internet and things in gummy form can’t cure?
But somehow Quitter missed reading about what would happen to her dreams. Oh the dreams. So vivid. So weird. So unsettling. But if anyone can unravel Quitter’s psyche, it Bossy.
Dream #1 Chaka Mad
I’m having tea and scones with Chaka Khan in what looks like Narnia. Her hair is epic and I feel vaguely under dressed. I’m having trouble making small talk and am surprised that Chaka isn’t as easy to talk to as her catchy music implies she might be. She eats the last scone and walks away leaving me with the check. I’m pretty sure I made her mad.
Bossy’s interpretation: This one is easy. You’ve tapped into the real Chaka Khan and will share that truth with the world.
Dream #2 – Cheese Feet
I’m walking down the street re-enacting my best version of the Bee Gees “Stayin’ Alive,” walk, but something’s not quite right. Normally my walk/dance moves are above reproach, but not today. Today I’m off.
I look down at my feet and notice they are giant wedges of cheese.
Bossy’s Interpretation: The timing of this one is oddly bizarre as just today, I was taught to use the Bee Gee’s song for a very specific reason. Actually, I’ll let the undeniable Michael Scott explain the reasoning: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vmb1tqYqyIII
I feel confident it speaks to your dream too.
Dream #3 – Underwater Bargain
I’m running down a paved road, (the running part is how I know it’s a dream btw,) and I take time to notice what a good job the pavers have done on this particular street. I remark to no one in particular “It’s not often you see such pride in workmanship.”
I then notice a hoard of somewhat concerned people running behind me and think to myself, “Is this another zombie thing? Because if it is we don’t have to run, they’re incredibly slow, walking would be just fine.”
The beautifully paved road begins to crumble behind me and I come to the startling realization that, yes, I do have to run, and to my horror, I’m in Crocs. People begin passing me effortlessly as I stumble over my comfortable, yet questionable footwear and I begin to curse my comfort over “not dying,” choice in apparel.
I look behind me to see the road behind me opening up into a fluorescent-lit waterscape that looks vaguely like a dollar store and allow myself to slip in because I’m out of envelopes.
Bossy’s Interpretation: So. Uhm. This one is pure psychedelic glory and trying to interpret it would equal pissing on its importance. So I won’t.
Photo credit: Wendy Rake, Unsplash.com