Actually, last year I made a concerted effort to acquaint myself with the ins and outs of football so that the Captain and I could enjoy watching it together. This year, we had no TV antenna. The Captain, ever the brilliant DIY-er, made a valiant attempt at constructing one out of things we had in the workshop, but we live so far out in the sticks, it just wasn't strong enough to pick anything up. So, we morphed into our grandparents circa-1940 and listened to it on the radio. It turns out that if you're not very familiar with how football works, taking away the visual doesn't help in the least.
But I'm not one to let a good Superbowl celebration pass me by just because I can't watch the game, so I went about the process of making us a plate of wings, and some other terribly fattening foods, followed by an incredibly rich tiramisu-like dessert. And you know what happens when you eat crazy at night, right? You dream crazy.
Here, for your perusal, are the three insane dreams I can remember from my feverish, broken night of sleep:
Dream Sequence #1: These are the days when you wish your bed was already made... I dreamed that I went to wake up Rosemary's Baby and when I got to his room, found his bed crawling with bugs. I shrieked and grabbed a can of bug spray (no, I do not really keep a can of poisonous bug spray in Rosemary's Baby's room. We'd all be dead by now.). When I started spraying, bug spray did not come out. Can you guess what did? That's right! More bugs! Gross. I think my subliminal self is trying to tell me it's time to strip down all the beds and vacuum the mattresses for bed bugs, which is what I will be doing today.
Dream Sequence #2: This one was just as disturbing. I was walking through the house looking for the kids. I could hear Firstborn breathing and moving around. I could hear Rosemary's Baby calling "Mommy", but I couldn't find either of them anywhere. Every time I went into the living room, it was as if they were nearby, but I still couldn't see them. That's when it dawned on me. They were trapped inside the walls. I'm thinking this dream was about the fact that the kids have spent entirely too much time inside this winter, and probably also about the nightmare renovations we've had going on here non-stop for the last 18 months or so. We're about to embark on a bathroom reno, which is making me cringe, and apparently it's making my subconscious cringe too.
Dream Sequence #3: This was the only dream I enjoyed having. But let me give you some background information first. There's this guy I'm acquainted with. I barely know him, but he has a nice way about him. I like to think of him as Valentino. It's all perfectly harmless, I promise. The Captain rolls his eyes at my Valentino-lust, but is very good about it, probably because he knows how many mind-numbing loads of laundry I do in a day. So, in my dream, I'm doing dishes in the kitchen of my Barbie Malibu Dream House (FYI, from January to March, most of my dreams take place in Malibu. I think it's a coping mechanism). Suddenly, Valentino grabs me around the waist romance-novel-style, plants one on me and tells me to leave the Captain so we can spend our days lounging by the pool. I don't think this one requires any analysis whatsoever.
And so tonight, in an attempt to get a full, uninterrupted eight hours of sleep, I'm going to forgo the wings and fatty dips and eat something a little healthier. I'll have a nice cleansing cup of peppermint tea before bed. Maybe I'll even do some yoga. I'll wake up refreshed and renewed, ready to take on another day with no worries that my arteries are clogged.
Of course, that'll also mean no Valentino dreams.
I suppose a little ice cream couldn't hurt.