Dreams

I've had a bounty of dreams recently. One involved a theme of bad toupees and ended with Rod Blagojevich comforting me. What?

Another dream I had this week had me running around the city with friends when all of a sudden the sewers backed up and the streets were being flooded by crap. Crap as in...crap. Ew. Gross. We escaped to this old, victorian three-story home that served as some strange convent. It was almost like a combination of amish women and nuns. Then it turned out to be some kind of cult where they basically worshipped their vacuums. I said to someone standing next to me, "Hey, they feel the same way about their vacuums as we do our brooms." When I said this I meant brooms that we use for flying. You know you've been reading too much Harry Potter when it seeps into your dreams.

The final dream had my counselor writing it down and then analyzing it. She told me that I should spend the last 10 minutes of my session in a tanning booth. I said that I have some big stories to tell her and she responded, "I don't like to listen to these types of stories until Easter." RANDOM! She analyzed the dream. It's official. I'm a wacko.