Last night I was shopping with my best friend Kat Von D, the pretty native dude from The Voice, and my real life maid of honor. We got to this super posh store called Value Village and I dozed into a narcoleptic coma on isle 4. Since it was my dream, my subconscious allowed me to feel
my friends those hussy’s take my bags from my arms, shoes off my feet, and then leave me there to rot in bed bugs. When I woke up, I was fuming. Of course I couldn’t hold it against Kat Von D or Tonto, since I’ve never met them, but if I do, I’m sure I’ll give off a very I hate you, you fuckin traitor bitch vibe. And to my real life friend- I’m still mad at you.
Since we all try really hard pretending to be mostly sane and secure on the outside, our subconscious has to let out a little crazy while we sleep. Maintaining the natural balance of things, of course. But sometimes the aftermath of the “release” kinda trickles into daytime.
Which brings me to today’s blog: Should our mates be held accountable for something they did in a dream we had?
A couple months ago I had a dream that my fiance was sleeping with his secretary. He brought her home to confront me about it, saying they were in love and they will be getting married instead of us. And that I had to move out. My dream reaction was similar to what my real life reaction would be – me swinging my body parts around in a fit of rage, hoping to hit something. But since my pathetic limbs resemble twigs on a dead tree, my punches didn’t even knock over a box of Kleenex. This, of course, made me even more irate.
I woke up with a stank face on and snubbed my man as he tried to give me a kiss on his way to work. And just before he walked out, I said, “You go to work, I bet you’re much happier there, aren’t you?” Him being the calmest person in the world simply said “I love you, crazy” and walked out the door.
Crazy? Who are you calling crazy you adulterer!
I was mad at him all day and didn’t respond to any texts or calls. When he got home, he asked what was wrong and I told him he cheated on me in my dream, and sometimes that shit comes true so I am preemptively hating him to protect myself. He hugged me, laughed, and admitted that he already had enough personalities to deal with that are all locked inside my elf-sized package, and simply wouldn’t have time to fall in love with another.
Huh, We’ll see.
So should they be accountable for their dream mistakes? The answer is, Obviously! Duh. We’re women. Meaning, always right even when wrong. If we’re mad, upset, hormonal, insecure, jealous, or irrational, the only way out is to agree, apologize and move on.
Boom. World peace.
Don’t be an idiot and try to fight with us arguing points like “reason”, “reality”, and especially not “innocence”. It will get you nowhere. Love and accept us in all of our forms and we will treat you like a goddamn king. Choose wisely.
A bird hit my window and died today. It’s either the first sign of an alien abduction, the apocalypse, hell throwing me a high five, or God giving me a sign that he’s impressed with my window cleaning skills. Fiance, what do you think? “It’s for sure hell.” That’s what I thought too. True love.
Line it up! I hope you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you. Let’s never go this long without talking. Unless, of course, I go away on vacation again.
For more rational advice, check out my book- Axing My Exes on Amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/Axing-My-Exes-Jerrica-Zeron/dp/1489586849/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1383052331&sr=8-1&keywords=axing+my+exes