Falling Out of Bed
Posted on 23 February 2010
I fell out of bed on Sunday morning. Does that even happen to grownups?
It actually reminded me of one of my favorite Smiths’ lyrics, only far less romantic.
The incident turned out to be the first in a string of rude awakenings I would experience over the next couple of days.
On Sunday night (or I guess, Monday morning), I dreamt I was on an elevator ride from hell. I traveled up and down and up and down (and sometimes from side to side!) at terrifying speeds. I knew someone was out to get me and I couldn’t get out. I woke up scared shitless and short of breath.
The next night, I dreamt I’d been laid off. Still dreaming, I decided my elevator dream from the night before had been my subconscious warning me of the impending layoff. I was saved by the the irritating voice of the Alice 97.3 morning radio host. And for the first time since Christmas morning 1991, I didn’t feel like snoozing.
WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?
A little scared to go to bed,
Tania
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