stitch, dream

Lastnight I had a stitch and bitch at my house. I quilted, four other gals knitted. It was SEW much fun! Har har. It really was. I attained a state of crafty warm fuzzy bliss chatting with my fellow stitcher-bitchers while we stitched. Thank you to all who attended. We're planning to do it again in November, and I couldn't be more pleased.

Later lastnight, Mike and I watched Chappelle's Show. That is some funny crap. You should watch it. If yer up at 10:30 like us fools.

Even later lastnight, I had some intense, plotty dreams. The first dream, or the first phase of the one long dream, involved me being in some bazaar in a foreign land. I was dressed in a blue belly dancing costume, and had too much to drink. A man played a stringed instrument and to the amusement of the crowd, I danced around him, waving my arms above my head, sensuously, I thought. Yes, once again, even drunk in a dream, I thought I was fan-fu**ing-tastic.

The feeling faded when I came to on a remote coffee plantation in the middle of the jungle. I don't remember what myself and my fellow prisoners were doing with the coffee, but we were all packed into a large shacky building, the kind with sunlight peering through the cracks in the walls, and made to work sunup to sundown. It was awful. But there was no escape because there was nothing but jungle for miles around. Nonetheless, while my fellow workers jeered, I escaped a few yards from the door. The sound of bugs hissing and buzzing everywhere was intense. (Kind of like in Missouri.) I knew I wasn't going to get away, but I just needed to escape for a little while, I told myself. I hid behind a tree, but was afraid of a nasty bitey bug falling on my scalp. I scrunched myself up very small.

In the next phase, I was a servant in the home of a rich family. More opportunities for escape presented themselves, but it was still very tricky. I had to rerun the end of the dream several times to do it successfully. The last few times, I was more thinking it out than actually seeing what was going on. The house was very beautiful and full of french doors and pink and turquoise walls and things. When I finally got away, I bragged to my buddies about it. Ha ha.

In the third phase, probably just its own dream, right before I woke up, I was back in high school, and I was on the volleyball team. We used to win all the time, but more recently we'd been dealt several crushing defeats. At the end of one such humiliation, I had an epiphany about how we could get back on track, so I called a huddle, and explained to my fellow teammates that we needed to find THE WINNER INSIDE!! We needed to remake ourselves into people who COULD NOT LOSE, who could ONLY WIN!! (This would be achieved by a strict dietary regimen, lots of weightlifting, and lots of loud encouragement from me.) "EVERYBODY GOT IT? WE HAVE TO BE REBORN WINNERS!" I shouted, "ALRIGHT now WINNERS ON THREE... ONE TWO THREE WINNERS!" and we broke our huddle. "AND IF YOU NEED A PEP TALK, COME TALK TO *ME*!!" I immediately started charting our plans. Everyone had to write down what they ate on little notecards and I kept track. (how fascist!) We hit the gym twice a day. MSH went to my high school and he was very proud of my work. I talked about it with Macaya, an actual attendee of my real-life high school, and he said: "I see, it's total body development."

I woke up before the A-Team part of things (muscles getting bigger, spikes getting nastier) could get underway, and before we started winning games again. In fact, I don't have a vivid impression of any volleyball scenes out of the dream. Mostly yelling. But the whole thing is hilarious when you consider:

I never played a sport in high school.
I am a piss-poor volleyball player.