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puking with Patrick Duffy - 2000-06-14
Odd dreams. In a Tim Horton's. The environment felt like Listowel for some reason... Anyhow, that is not terribly important. I was with Kim, and we were doing something on the floor. Not sexual, but certainly physical... It could have been wrestling, or something, which makes sense since I have heard many stories about Chad and Mel's wrestling matches these days. And we were doing this non-sexual, horizontal dance, and I just broke away from it, and I got up, and I walked into a corner, and I vomitted madly and violently for minutes. This was very sensual, people, I felt it all in the pit of my stomach as it rose up, and spewed out, all over one of the older brown and yellow Tim Horton's colour schemes. It's like the time I got shot in my dream. I felt the pain. A dull, hammering pain... I usually remember the dreams where I feel sickness or pain the most vividly. Like my sub-concious enjoys torturing me. So, I wake up quite agitated after this, and figure, like a wet dream, I have not only made a mess in my mind, but also in my bed. I poke around blindly, expecting to be bathed in my own bile. I was not sure what I would have done had I actually puked my bed (I hadn't...). I probably would have awoken my parents, something I have not done since I was eight or so, and heard something tap on my window, or felt something brush against my feet. I probably would have told them I puked the bed. They probably would have asked why. I probably would have had no explanation. It would be a gigantic mess that I really would not have wanted to deal with... Thankfully I didn't. I drank a few shots of Extra Strength Pepto Bismol, just in case, and uneasily went back to sleep until I awoke to thunder, looked at my clock and realized that I was going to be late for my coffee-date with bluepixie. But I have started dreaming again in the past week. Although, not in the way I had before. My past dreams had inspired love, faith and hope. These new ones (the sophmore season) are just scary, and all seem to tell me that I'm heading towards a physical and emotional apocalypse. Let's hope that this second season is not as prophetic as the first. Let's hope that it is just Patrick Duffy's nightmare and nothing more... And that the third season can pick up where the first left off. Yes, let's hope that this ALL is just Patrick Duffy's nightmare.
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