Help Support Underpaid Insurance Executives

Please Help to Protect Our Nation’s Health Insurance Executives From Unfair Changes in Their Lifestyles

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Enough said. More later. Peace.


Perchance . . . to dream?

Stream of Unconsciousness

Disclaimer:  The following is brought to you in living color, so there will be no pictures as all of the pictures were already in my head, and that is waayy too hard to recreate here, but in an attempt to give you something to look at, I will use color here.

Caveat: Corey will hate the following as all of the men are made to look like imbeciles, but I have a very good reason: It was a dream (granted a very realistic dream), but a dream, nonetheless.

Warning: The following contains material that may be too graphic for some readers. I would rate it a PG because it’s pretty good and comes directly too you from my subconscious and/or dream state, but some people might rate it R because it’s a bit raunchy, but honestly, no sex is involved.

Okay. Now that I’ve gotten all of that out of the way, I can begin. I’m on day 5 or so of my latest insomnia jag. I started to write a post a few days ago about not being able to sleep, and how when I do sleep, I have weird dreams, but the post was so boring, that I deleted it. This particular post looks different from most of my other posts because, well because it’s different from most of my other posts. Bear in mind a few things: I’ve had little sleep. I have a warped sense of humor. I didn’t check for typos . . .

Let me just preface this by saying that it is now 9:07 a.m. my time, and I did not fall asleep until sometime after 6:21 a.m., which is the last time I looked at the clock to see how late/early it was (depending upon your point of view), before I fell asleep. Should the preface have gone with the disclaimer, caveat, and warning?

Okay. Wait, already said that. Moving along: I have been having terrible nightmares for the past four or five nights, from which I awaken screaming, which is kind of a good alarm clock, except no one has really needed an alarm clock in the middle of the night. So imagine my surprise when I awoke this morning laughing my buttocks off. Nice change. Then I thought about why I was laughing my buttocks off, and began to laugh again. I put my head down, prepared to try to go back to sleep when I realized, “Hey! You will not remember all of this with all of the details (especially the cats and the microwave dog pretzels) if you go back to sleep, so get your butt out of bed and get it down now while it’s fresh.”

Rational self said, “Are you out of your freaking mind? It’s 9:07, and I haven’t even had three hours sleep yet.”

Other self said, “I know that, but most people in half of the world, or at least several time zones are already awake and at work.”

Rational self said, “Well, you have a point. But I don’t have a job, so thanks for reminding me.”

The debate would have continued, but I needed something to drink, whereupon I took my empty glass and went to the kitchen to get some  juice. Tillie, who was comfortably ensconced on the couch, lifted an eye as if to say, “You? I never see you before the afternoon unless I get you out of bed, and I don’t think I got you out of bed.”

I acknowledged her look, and she went back to sleep. Got my juice, walked back to the bedroom, and decided that I had to get this down because it was a full episode of a sitcom that I was never going to remember. All that being said, let me tell you about my dream, which we will call Episode 32: “Why I Never Dated After My Ex Left and Fell In Love With a New Woman Because I Knew That I Wouldn’t Be Very Good At It. (The True Story, well the title is true, but what happens in the dream never happened, or at least never happened all at once in one night).”

Stay with me. It gets bettter. Honest.

The Dream:

Setting: My sister-in-law Anne’s house, or at least for the purposes of this dream. Real time. A casual get together in which people were supposed to bring their own drinking materials, which does not include microwave doggie treats.

I’m sitting on the floor near the door. There are several people here who I do not know, a few are couples. The man next to me I do know because I thought that I was dating him, but I am ignoring him. Let’s call him “The Relationship that didn’t happen,” or TRTDH.

TRTDH: “So, why aren’t you talking to me?” (sotto voice or whispering)

Me: “Are you talking to me? I thought that when you said that you didn’t really see us going anywhere, that meant that you didn’t want to see me anymore, so I’m not not talking to you. I’m ignoring you.”

TRTDH: “There’s a difference?” (still trying to whisper even though everyone in the room is now looking at us).

Me: “Of course there is a difference. Just ask any woman in this room.”

At this point, one couple excuses themselves and leaves by the back door. The three guys who are sitting next to each other on the couch begin to squirm a little.

Woman I Don’t Know #1: “Ask us what?”

All of the other woman I Don’t Know: “What?”

TRTDH: “Nothing. It’s personal.”

Me: “It’s not personal. It stopped being personal when you said that we didn’t have  a relationship.”

WIDN#2: “He said that?”

Smirks on the faces of a few of the males.

Me: “Gentlemen. You think that this is amusing?”

Vigorous shakes of the head indicating denial, including TRTDH.

Me: “Ladies, this person next to me told me that he didn’t think that our relationship was going anywhere. In my mind, that meant that we, and therefore he no longer existed. Correct?”

Vigorous nods of assent by females in the room. Ann walks into the room.

Ann: Can you handle everything for a minute. We have to go somewhere?”

Don’t ask me why she is going somewhere in the middle of her get-together, just roll with it. It’s a dream.

Me: “No problem.”

Immediately, another couple leaves by the back door, whereupon one cat runs out the door and another cat comes in the door, which confuses me as I believe that the cat that isn’t supposed to be in the house just came in, and the cat that isn’t supposed to be outside, just ran out. I walk back into the living room completely confused but still mad.

Me to attractive WIDN#3 who is chugging rum out of a bottle: “Great. You’re drinking half of the liquor that is supposed to be for all of the guests directly out of the bottle. Were you raised in a barn?”

WIDN#3 spits out the rum.

Me: “Well that didn’t really help anything. Don’t you move (I yell to TRDTH, who is trying to sneak out of the room)”

Woman on the floor sitting next to woman who chugged rum: “What exactly did he do?”

Me: “After we had several dates, he told me that he didn’t think that our relationship was going anywhere, and then he shows up here tonight thinking that he can act like he’s my date. And by the way, the guy on the end of the couch is my ex-husband, father of my children, so pay attention to nothing he says.”

Everyone turns and looks at Ex.

Ex: “I’m not here, but buddy, you are in for a world of shit (to TRDTH).”

All of the men in the room nod commiseratingly, while their dates, if they have them, glare.

Me: “Tell me (to no one in particular), do I need to acknowledge his presence?”

Woman coming into the back door: “Whose presence?”

I move to the kitchen and trip over one of the dogs, fall into the arms of the woman who is coming into the back door.

Me: “Great, you brought food. We only have frozen peas.”

Woman coming into the back door (this would be so much easier if I knew their names): “These? Oh no. They are yogurt covered dog pretzels that you pop into the microwave.”

Dogs upon hearing the word ‘treats’ all run into the kitchen. Disgusted with her offering and disappointed that there is no food, I return to the living room to continue my rant.

Woman coming into the back door: “What did we miss?”

WIDN#1: “Oh, she’s really pissed at her boyfriend, and they’re having an argument.”

WIDN#2 and TRTDH simultaneously: “He’s/I’m not her boyfriend.”

Me: He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just some guy that I slept with because I thought that we were in a relationship, but then he said that we didn’t really have a relationship that’s going anywhere.”

Nodding and shaking of heads all around the room, depending upon gender. Ann comes back in the room.

Ann: “Where’s the cat? And where’s Mallory (her younger daughter).”

Damn. I knew that I was supposed to be watching something besides the cats and the rum.

Me: “Isn’t Mallory with you?”

Mallory from corner of the room: “I’m over here listing to Aunt Lola yell at some guy she’s been sleeping with. What’s sleeping with?”

Ann: “Eat your peas.”

Mallory: “I can’t. Aunt Lola bent all of the forks.”

It’s true. I hate the way that peas roll off the fork so I have bent all of the silverware. Don’t ask me when.

WIDN#3: Can we get back to the story?”

Guys on couch turn on the television and pretend to watch football.

Me: “Hey you! Yep you guys pretending to watch football. Do you know how rude it is to watch television during a get-together and an argument?”

Rapid shaking of heads.

Me: No. I don’t suppose you do because you’re men.

Knowing nods of assent.

Me to TRTDH: “Do you see what you’ve done.?”

TRTDH: “What have I done?”

Greek chorus echoing from the kitchen: “You led her on, made her think that you had a relationship when all along you never wanted a relationship.”

(I think they were singing.)

TRTDH: “I never did that. We went on a few dates, had some fun. Now it’s time to move on.”

Me: “My point exactly. Hence, I am ignoring you.”

TRTDH: “But that’s childish.”

All of the women in the room break out into spontaneous remarks. Too many to put down here. Use your imagination. I did.

Me: (screeching) Childish?! I cannot believe that someone as asinine as you would call me childish.”

TRTDH: “I know what asinine means. I’m getting another degree, so you can’t talk to me that way.”

At some point, alcoholic beverages appeared in everyone in attendance’s hands, except for the really skinny woman.

Me as an aside to Ann: Hey. What do you want to bet that that skinny bitch says any minute now that she just wants water because she is so full?”

Ann: “But we haven’t had cake yet. How can she be full?”

Skinny Bitch: “Oh, just water for me. I ate entirely too much.”

Ann and I look at each other and chug our beers.

TRTDH to guys on the couch and my ex: “Don’t you think that she is making too much out of this?”

Ex: “You have no idea?”

Me: “Too much? Too much? (voice goes up an octave with each repetition). I had my nails done. I hade my hair done. I bought a new dress (look down at myself and realize that I have on a new dress, pretty hot one, at that). I’m eating peas. I can ignore you any time I want to (ending sentence in preposition because, well, it’s a dream).”

Ann: “Why are there dogs here?”

Me: “Would you keep up with the conversation. And oh yeah, your dumbass friend over there brought dog treats instead of real food.”

Dumbass Friend: “Ann told me to bring dog treats. Besides, aren’t they cute?”

All of the women ooh and aah at the pastel pretzel that DAF is holding up.

Ann: “Why would I tell you to bring dog treats. I have cats. We need some food.”

Me: “Can we get back to me? This is about me.”

TRTDH: (attempts to whisper) “That’s why we can’t have a relationship.”

Me: “I heard that. You’re sitting right next to me. Geez, you really aren’t too bright are you?”

TRTDH: “I knew what asinine meant.”

Me: “That’s really great. Commendable. I’m still ignoring you.”

WIDN#2: “If you aren’t going to date him, can I have him?”

Incredulous looks all around. Men look at #2 in entirely new way, as in, whoa, new prospect. Women look at #2 as if she has just grown horns.

Me: “No you can’t have him. I’m dating him.”

WIDN#2: “But you said that you were ignoring him. He said that you don’t have a relationship.”

Ann: “Where’s Mallory?”

Me: “She’s outside.”

Ann: “It’s midnight.”

Me: “Well we do have a relationship.”

Ann: “You and Mallory?”

Me: “Stop drinking rum and try to keep up. Not Mallory, this guy (gesturing towards TRTDH). We have a relationship. He just doesn’t want to acknowledge it.”

Enter my mom and dad. Everyone immediately pretends to be doing something.

Mom: “Where’s . . .?”

“Bathroom. Kitchen. She left.”

“Guys. She can see me.”

Mom: “It’s past your curfew, and you left your window open.”

Me: Mom, I haven’t had a curfew in years. What are you talking about?”

Mom: “That’s right. I’m always wrong. Blame it on me.”


Mom: “Don’t roll your eyes at me. Ken, she rolled her eyes as me.”

Dad: “Don’t roll your eyes at your mother. It’s disrespectful.”

Me: “Can you guys go back home? You’re embarrassing me. This is a party.”

Mom and Dad disappear. New people appear. More beer and rum appear. Still no food except for the dog treats and peas.

Me: “I’m so confused.”

TRTDH: “You’re confused . . .”

WIDN#3: “Shut up. No one asked you. If you weren’t here, we could be having fun. Instead, we have to listen to this crap.”

Me to WIDN#3: “We could have a fight.”

Guys murmur something about chick fights.

Me: “Don’t call me a chick.”

Ex: “She hates that.”

Other two guys on the couch: “Are they going to fight, or what?”

Me: “No, we are not going to fight. (to WIDN#3) I really like that shirt.”

Ann: “Everyone needs to go home now. It’s late, and I need to put Mallory to bed (Mallory is now an infant in an infant carrier).”

Everyone stands up and starts to go to the kitchen. I open the freezer and look inside, but there’s still nothing but peas.

Me: “Do I have to go too?”

Ann: “Nah.”

Corey: “Can I stay?”

Ann and Me: “When did you get here?”

Me: “You can’t be here. I have a date.”

Corey: “What do you mean you have a date?”


Corey: “Why is that guy yelling?”

Me: “Ignore him. He thinks that we’re dating. Did you bring the rum?”

Corey: “No. But I brought Tillie.”

Ann: “We have microwave dog treats.”

Corey: “Why do they have to be microwaved?”

Ann and Me: “Don’t know. She never told us.”

There was actually more, but it’s 10:12, and I’m actually feeling sleepy. Maybe it was funnier in the dream. But at least I didn’t dream about knives, or crocodiles/alligators (never know which is which), or any of the other strange things that I dream about. This dream was almost normal. For me. That being said, enough said.

Eat your peas. More later. Peace.