Category Archives: Dreams

Nightmares of tagging

Dreams, Work, ,

I’ve been dreaming about tagging for the past few nights. Twice in the past week I’ve been awakened by Dean shaking me in the middle of the night because I was screaming. The tagging I’m talking about is not this kind of tagging:

Tagged by funkandjazz
Tagged by funkandjazz

[photo courtesy of funkandjazz on Flickr.com]

Or this kind of tagging (which looks like fun):

Playing Tag by Mikey aka DaSkinnyBlackMan
Playing Tag by Mikey aka DaSkinnyBlackMan

[photo courtesy of Mikey aka DaSkinnyBlackMan on Flickr.com]

Or this kind of tagging:

Screenshot of tags on wordpress.com
Screenshot of tags on wordpress.com

Or even this kind of tagging (although these nightmares will be coming soon):

Holiday Gocco Gift tags by Sarah Parrot
Holiday Gocco Gift tags by Sarah Parrot

[photo courtesy of Sarah Parrot on Flickr.com]

The kind of tagging that is giving me nightmares is the tagging I do anywhere between 4 and 12 hours a day, 7 days a week:

PDF tags
PDF tags

In the dream I’m in an endless loop of tag, tag, tag, tag, save. Tag, tag, tag, save. Tag, tag, tag, save and then something jumps out of the tags which scares me and I scream. It may be partly because I’ve been watching Dead Like Me while I tag. Maybe I’m waiting for the grim reaper to take me away from all this tagging.

I think I need a new profession. Any recommendations?

In which Helen pays a visit & Indigo Bunting is referenced

Dreams, ,

So, last night the only dream I recall involved Helen and Indigo Bunting.  I was in an unfamiliar place — it was dimly-lit, but warm and comfortable. There were other people in the room, but they were all shadows. Helen sat on a sofa next to me and we were discussing our carbon footprints. I was telling Helen that I thought her carbon footprint was much smaller than mine — that Indigo Bunting said so. Something about kids being environmentally unsound.

As I sit in my living room this morning and look at the mess my teen aged daughter has made of the room — papers strewn over every horizontal surface, tubes of paint littering the coffee table, broken Christmas ornaments she promised to donate to the art room, dirty socks and hair ribbons scattered around — from studying for exams half the night, I think IB had a point.

Oh, Helen — your hair was georgous in the dream.

Fiestaware, Ted the Cow, Coke and me

Dreams, , , , ,

So last night I had a Dan Bern dream. I was watching TV on a big screen television that was attached to the wall. I think I was at my parents’ house, but it wasn’t really my parents’ house. A commercial came on the television and in the middle of the screen was a book with talking line-drawn characters. I recognized them as Ted the Cow-type drawings, but now that I look at the book, what I saw in my dream was not Ted the Cow-type drawings. Anyway, two of the line-drawn characters started to sing a well-known Dan Bern song (don’t know which one it was but my dad said something disparaging about those “Yeah, Yeah, Yeah”1 lyrics) and I immediately ran to the store and bought a new shirt.

While the salesperson was ringing up my purchase (an oversized pink, lavender and aqua button-down denim shirt2) she asked what I wanted to drink — it came with the shirt, so I said a Coke. Then she said that the Coke had some strange powder3 in it and was probably contaminated, and showed me the front pocket of the shirt. Sure enough, something fizzy4 and white was floating in the Coke filled pocket of the shirt. She sent for a new shirt, but it was not the same color. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to buy it, but since it came with free Fiestaware, I figured I’d get it and donate the shirt.

On the way out I mentioned that my favorite singer, Dan Bern, liked Fiestaware6, but didn’t expect them to know who Dan Bern was. Turned out they did because he owned the shop.

—–

[1] This really happened once — but I was listening to Beethoven at the time.
[2] I recently found two oversized denim shirts and wasn’t sure if I should keep them or not. They are both blue though.
[3] I mis-read a mis-read comment on a bulletin board and confused Coke (as in Coca Cola) with coke (as in cocaine) and had to re-read it. Weird it would pop up in a dream.
[4] Last night my daughter had fun with suds and the kitchen counter and floor and walls were covered in soap bubbles. Before I went to sleep I worried about who was going to clean it up, since my daughter didn’t seem willing.5
[5] Dean cleaned it up.
[6] I don’t know if Dan Bern even likes Fiestaware — but he does live in New Mexico.