Last night, I gave platelets, and the morning after I often feel a tad out of it — not quite the thing, you know?
And then the alarm woke me when I was deep, deep into a stress dream — one of those where you’re trying to get a big, complicated (in fact, truly impossible in this case) thing done, and worrying over how to do it, and because you were awakened in the wrong part of the cycle, you have trouble shaking the worried feeling, like part of your brain still believes that you have to solve this problem…
OK, maybe you don’t do that, but I do.
When my wife got up, I told her a little about it, and she sort of chuckled at the sillier aspects, which helped put it in perspective a bit, but I still hadn’t shaken the feeling of needing to deal with it when I headed downtown to have breakfast, thinking coffee ought to sort me out…
Well into my second cup, something came to me. Moments later, I Tweeted this:
Having breakfast downtown, I recall that it’s Valentine’s Day. Called wife & told her where to find flowers I’d hidden in closet. Not great.
— Brad Warthen (@BradWarthen) February 14, 2017
And I’d been so on top of this! I’d bought those potted tulips on Saturday, way earlier than I usually think about Valentine’s Day.
The day has to get better from this point on, right?
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“stress dream”, so it’s already happening… you’re letting all this Trump crap get to you and it’s starting to affect you mentally and likely physically.
Oh, no, I have dreams like that all the time. Always have had. Sort of a variation of the dream where you’re in college, and it’s exam time, and you’ve never been to the class, and you don’t know where it is, and you’re too embarrassed to admit you don’t know so you can’t ask anybody…
Like that.
This dream, specifically, was based in experiences I had about 30 years ago. It was all about moving my family from one town to another because I was taking a new job, and leaving a job I hated. That situation had a happy ending, because it brought me here, but getting us here was stressful. I was sort of reliving that, but everything was 10 times as complicated as it was then…
Uh-oh…
I had hidden the tulips under a shirt in my closet, and apparently the weight of the shirt, combined with I suppose a lack of light, did this to them….
But they’ll come back, right?
I’m feeling sorry for those guys.
Do they make Viagra for flowers?
I was wondering how that would turn out….tulips are phototropic–they grow toward the light. She could cut them and put them in a vase, but once they are all done growed leggy, that’s it for the pot.
Maybe chocolates next year?
Nope. Chocolates are out. So are cut flowers. She likes them live.
My mistake was buying them ahead of time, instead of the night before.
Well… that, and forgetting today was the day…
Trader Joe’s has such an excellent selection of potted flowers, always. Swing over there on your lunch hour and redeem yourself….
Damn. I love tulips. This is a perfect depiction of how I feel about my country right now.
I have dreams like yours all the time–you work all night on some vexing problem that seems imperative; then you wake up and realize it’s not actually a problem. It’s a relief, but you’re also still really tired.