For those of you who are not on my Facebook friend queue, I'd like to share the following dream I posted about this AM:
Just woke up (OVERSLEPT) from a TERRIBLE dream! I had at least 50-60 people over for Thanksgiving (never have had more than 8-10 at most), kept running back and forth from one turkey in the indoor kitchen to another bird in an outdoor/detached structure kitchen, struggling with heavy pots of potatoes, vegetables, etc., everyone grumbling about "when's dinner?" and NO ONE HELPING ME. So glad to be awake! I ordinarily don't analyze dreams, but I'm going to be thinking about this one for a while!
As we age, I've noticed more and more of us are commiserating about our insomnia -- posting late night/very early morning reports of playing Solitaire or watching those dreadful "As Seen on TV" promos. I wonder -- has there been any marketing research done as to how many sales of silly gadgets get made on the phone or internet between the hours of midnight and 5 AM? A frightening number, I'm willing to wager.
Even though my posts and blogs have been usually very candid, I'd rather not ever disclose what I know about my insomnia's origin (except what I've said in a professional setting). Just know that my nocturnal watchfulness began in my teens, with trauma. That's all I'll say.
My concern is that many depend upon my getting good sleep. There are my clients, my colleagues, my family, my friends, and anyone whose existence intersects with mine, however briefly. Naps are a band-aid solution, a welcome respite when I can grab some time.
Maybe this is the time to confess that I've fallen off the wagon -- regarding coffee, that is. The fact that my mother still has some in the morning, and her caregiver does also, is one reason my recent "tea-only" resolve got chipped away. Then, there's that lovely Starbucks that opened up about three months ago within smelling-distance of my office.
Yes, folks, I'm back to my old vice: a Venti White Chocolate Mocha expresso (2 shots), plus an extra shot. Do the math. I'm loving my coffee-plus-three-shots-of-expresso. Oh, yes, and don't forget the top layer of whipped cream. Maybe I should ask one of my medical professional friends to just hook me up to a wheeled IV, with a slow, steadily-measured drip of caffeine to get me through the day.
Creative soul that I am, I even made my own version of this drink this morning. The result wasn't bad. Yesterday, I got a mailer from Bed, Bath & Beyond, and am eying affordable expresso machines.
Yesterday, at this local "watering hole," I was looking for holiday gift ideas for fellow coffee-philes. You know that screeching sound effect you hear on a TV show when people experience a "WTF?" moment? I had something similar when I saw packages of decaf expresso. Decaf?? Expresso?? Sorry, but the combination of these two words seems like more than an oxymoron; it seems positively heretical. I mean, if you're going to indulge in something, do it with the original ingredients, like you mean it.
Okay, as I follow up with the last of my morning joe (raising a toast to Starbucks), I just wonder where this latest development will go.
As far as my vivid, action-movie dreams, I think I'll resume entries in the dream journal I started when I was in grad school. My Freudian-oriented gentleman friend took enormous pleasure in giving his interpretation.