I believe you can get me through the ni-iiiiight.

Last night I dreamt that Silence of the Lambs was true crime, there were seven movies that followed the story, I was in the area of Appalachia where the murders were happening, and I was watching the damn movies. And that wasn't the main storyline of my dream! I won't torture you any more with dream description because I'm pretty sure that's considered boring as all get out to the general populace.

But I will bore you with the history of my dreaming. So there. (Do you like how I entice you to read further?) I had an assload of bad dreams as a kid. Although perhaps not any more than any other kid. Can't say. But pretty early on I was having none of it. (Hah! I say that like I was all powerful. As if I didn't sleep with my blankets up to my chin - regardless the temperature - because of the vampire dream. Or had to have the shutters on my window securely closed ["shut the shutters, shut the shutters," I'd remind my dad] every night because of the dream about the Sleestak-like creature outside said window. And had to have all my hair covering my face before I could sleep because of monsters in general [if they couldn't see me . . .]. And of course I had to sleep with my legs hanging off the side of the bed because once I'd kicked the wall on the other side, angering the pale, rubbery-skinned witch under my bed who would reach her pale, rubbery-skinned arm up along the wall and GRAB my ankles. [Don't know why she couldn't just GRAB 'em from the other side. Thank god there were rules! This particular grabbing hand (they grab all they can, all for themselves, after all) I blame on F. Marion Crawford's "The Upper Berth".] Oh how I envied my sister Megan, lying there across the room, bedclothes at her feet, arms splayed, sleepin' free, man, sleepin' free. Why couldn't I sleep like that? Again [shall we say it together this time? In a singsong manner?] ZOLOFT!)

Where the hell was I? Oh yes, having none of it. I learned what I guess was lucid dreaming. I learned certain cues in my dreams. For example, is my dream sepia-toned? GET OUT GET OUT! That was a dead-sure sign that everything was gonna get bad, and soon. And I don't know why, but I could "get out." One dream - in which the role of Jo will be played this evening by Marsha Brady - I thought to actually pinch myself. I didn't feel the pinch and was like, see ya, I'm outta here. I also learned that I can breathe under water in my dreams! Still can. Super handy. You fall in the ocean? Hey, wait, can't I breathe under water in my dreams?! Sure the hell can! It's always a dash disturbing at first, but then I get used to it. It's messed with my real-life snorkeling, though.

I also figured out that I tended to dream about things that had been only fleeting instances in my waking life before I dreamt it. So if, just before going to bed every night, I thought about every possibly scary thing I'd encountered that day, I was pretty sure I wouldn't dream about it. And I generally didn't. But it also meant I didn't dream about things I wanted to dream about because I couldn't think about them in only a fleeting manner. Like boys.

Feh, it was enough just to stop the often devastating dreams. And I usually still can. Gee, now I'm all hepped up to tell you about my recurring dreams! And even better . . . Sleep Paralysis! All right, all right, I'll go make some eggs instead. For now! Moo ha ha ha ha ha!

Sleep well,

Jo