I’m going to start this by saying I never remember my dreams, AND I’m never able to figure out that I’m dreaming. No matter how ridiculous the dream may be. I’ve also apparently moved on from stress dreams to resigned acceptance of likely death dreams. Grad school really changes a person.
So. I get a ride to the airport from dad, even though I’m flying from CA to CLE and the route to the airport is the same route as my home -> CLE airport (clue one this is a dream, which I do not pick up). On the way, I see FOUR planes crash. One very close to us. We continue to the airport because I apparently really need to catch this flight.
While waiting for my (definitely doomed) flight, I entertain the idea of renting a car and driving home, only to decide that I can’t make it back quickly enough. I head through very relaxed security (clue two). No one is alarmed that all the planes are falling out of the sky but they are asking for those traveling alone to voluntarily go through extra security screening (clue three).
Bill and Hillary Clinton are on my (commercial) flight (clue four). They sit down with me (clue five). Hillary and I don’t talk about politics (six). Bill doesn’t talk at all (six and a half?). My mother shows up, having flown by herself to help me feel less nervous (clues seven and eight). She succeeds only in embarrassing me (about on par with reality). She flirts with Bill (clues nine to infinity).
At this point I wake up. WTF, brain?
Annnnnnnd I'm Off
Once again, on a plane. The man next to me keeps repeating, “Wow, it’s warm in here,” which it is, but without his toupee it’d be a lot cooler. “Should I take my sweater off?” he asks his wife. She is about as interested in his temperature as I am.
He is also narrating his progression through the…
The worst part about being from the midwest is the fact that my superpower/curse is the invisible “YOU CAN TALK TO ME, I’M NICE AND ALSO POSSIBLY A THERAPIST,” rays I apparently exude on all forms of public transit. And it’s not just walking fedoras with voiceboxes that want me to know I look great in that dress (although they do tend to notice when I wear makeup and clothes that aren’t covered in bleach stains). Kids think it’s OK to ask invasive questions and it took me a while to realize I could answer them like a serial killer (Why does your hair look like that? [Some people have curly hair/I got hit by lightning recently] What are those dots on your face? [freckles/tattoos for each child I’ve cooked into a stew] Do you like this picture I drew at school? [Yes/It looks just like the bogeyman’s house]). Tourists think it’s OK to ask directions (it is, sort of, but not when you ask how much the bus fare is and if I have any restaurant recommendations).
But the worst is the ONLY time I started a conversation on a plane. I said “Hello,” to a Very Cute Guy on a plane headed to Las Vegas via Chicago and he looked at me and his eyes brightened and we spent the next two hours talking about whether or not I had Accepted Jesus Christ As My Lord And Savior.
This happened to me on Tuesday. There’s been a lot of alcohol this week. Also, this is basically a thesis bitching blog now.
Things I love about it: free Wi-Fi, British pub, the fact that Blanton’s bourbon is the same price as bottom shelf crap.
Things I don’t love about it: bourbon costs $15 a pour.
If you were on the moon during a lunar eclipse, you would be basking in the light from all the sunsets and sunrises on earth at that moment. (And that’s why blood moons are red!)
PS - Send pictures of this morning’s eclipse to email@example.com
SCIENCE. It WORKS, BITCHES.
Just me writing my thesis
OMG I wrote 400 words this morning. Yeeeep, a whole paragraph.