Crazy, Wonderful Dreams

I would say that I have the craziest, weirdest dreams on the planet, but I know I doan't because my sister has shared what goes on in her wacky noggin.  Holy.  Cow.  So, I'm pretty convinced I have the SECOND craziest dreams in the world.  However, sometimes they are crazy and WONDERFUL, and I'd like to use my little blog space to share some of this awesome nonsense. 

Once upon a time, I was married, so I had a witness to my sleep talking/singing/laughing.  Those are some of the best stories, and it makes me want to record myself sleeping sometime...but that is just creepy, so I'll have to suffice with repeating the stories I've been told and hope that one day, (fingers crossed) I'll have another "witness" to laugh in the middle of the night with. :)  These are my faves, and they have titles, because they deserve them. 

The 16 Ounces Song
I was sleeping soundly, minding my own business.  My (then) husband was out on the couch playing...wait for it...video games.  (That's a story for another time.) :)  All I remember is that he had the nerve to WAKE ME UP with hysterical laughter. 
"Why are you laughing?  I'm trying to sleep here."
"Sing it again, Jules."
"Sing wh---what's going on?  What have I done???"
"You've been singing in here for the past 2 minutes."
"Huh.  What was I singing?"
"The 16 Ounces song, of course."
"Oh.  Of course.  The...16...ounces....why are waking me up and making up stories???"
"I came in and you were proclaiming, in a BRITISH ACCENT, that you were singing the 16 ounces song.  So I asked you to sing it for me."
"Did I?"
"Yep."
Because I can't sing in a blog, you'll have to imagine how AWESOME this song truly is.  I'm hoping to record it someday. :)  I actually have musical dreams often, and wish that I could retain an OUNCE of what I sing.  Or, rather, 16 ounces would be even better.

McDonald's The Musical
The only musical dream I still CAN remember is one that I think might have to be made into a full scale musical one day.  I think I could do it.  In this particular "scene" I am a customer, standing behind the counter of the old McDonald's that I remember from my childhood.  There are 5 or 6 customers behind me, and 5 or 6 employees on the other side of the counter wearing smiley face visors and LOVING their job.  (Wait...maybe it wasn't a dream...) :)  So, I start to sing in a very climactic moment of the number, "What kind of fish....(others join in) What kind of fish....(all join in) WHAT KIND OF FISH???"  To which the employees all respond, in unison but with majestic harmony, "BE-NOY!!!!"  Dang it.  It's not the same without the music.  I wish I could sing it for you... But wait, you say, what the flip is "benoy?"  It's nothing.  Not a fish.  Which solidifies the theory that McDonald's doesn't use real stuff in their food.  My musical dream told me so.

Grammy
This one isn't a musical dream, but rather sentimental.  I grew up just a few blocks from my grandmother's house.  I CHERISH my memories spent with her.  She's the one that introduced me to theatre, so she pretty much rocks, just for that alone.  But check this out:  She came to all of my events.  Swim meets, tennis matches, dance recitals, junior miss, plays, church stuff, EVERYTHING.  I remember staying at her house A LOT.  Lots of sleepovers.  And those were AMAZING.  I remember the smell of the books she would read to me, the feel of the satin rimmed blanket on my bed, the sound of the grandfather clock that chimed on the hour, her footsteps as she shuffled down the hall, checking on me every so often.  She was THE BEST.  Seriously, she gave us EVERYTHING, and did so selflessly and joyfully.  Her Sunday dinners were OUTRAGEOUS.  She made a mean ham loaf (it's amazing, don't judge), broccoli "schmack" and a strawberry jello salad that should have been a stand alone dessert.  The woman could cook. For breakfast on our overnights, she would make an entire SPREAD for us.  She would make oatmeal with brown sugar and cream, a poached egg, bacon, toast with marmalade--or a cinnamon roll, chocolate milk AND juice.  But here's the kicker--she did that THREE SEPARATE TIMES.  "Tom" (Grammy remarried after my grandpa passed away, and Tom was basically my grandpa, but we only ever called him "Tom") Anyway--Tom would get up at the crack, so she made his food first.  Then me.  Then my sister--she could sleep until like noon.  My point being that Grammy made all of that food, did all of those dishes, took care of all of us for her ENTIRE morning.  And never complained.  Wowee.  Ok, so all of that said, the DREAM.  My beloved Grammy passed away when I was 25.  I volunteered to speak at her funeral, but I COULD NOT think of anything to talk about.  Which is NOT like me.  Speechless.  Never.  Ok, so the night before her funeral, I SAW HER.  She was in my dream.  And she reminded me of something she ALWAYS did that I had completely forgotten about.  How do our brains DO that???  In my dream, I was riding my bike out of her driveway and down her street.  And Grammy, as she always did, stood at the end of her driveway waving.  Just standing there, smiling, and waving until I was completely out of sight (I know, because I would always turn around right before I turned onto the next block, and she was STILL THERE WAVING.)  This was one of my favorite dreams, because I felt like it was her way of saying goodbye.  And all of those memories just came FLOODING back, I wrote my speech in bed that morning, and even had a theme. :)

I LOVE when my subconscious takes me on visits with those I miss dearly.  I've gotten to see Jennifer Butchko's beautiful smile several times in my dreams.  Just last night I got to see Jerry Thompson.  He looked SO happy and healthy.  He said something that cracked me up--though I can't remember it now...I do remember laughing out loud.  Grammy still shows up every now and then, and she is young and beautiful. 

My crazy, wonderful dreams...