This morning I had a dream about Ex-Friend. We were in some sort of cafeteria-style restaurant/open market place getting lunch together and we were in line for the cash register.
Throughout the dream EF had been standing behind me, and every once in a while he'd accidentally -- and I really mean accidentally, not one of those oops! did I do that? kind of accidentallys -- brush the back of my knee as we were walking around. But somehow, when we got in line to pay for our food, he'd gotten in front of me, and it was me who accidentally brushed the back of his knee with my bag (or something; I don't remember exactly what).
The worst part? I could smell him. When he was standing in front of me, I could breathe him in. The scent was so real and so familiar. And although I was nowhere near ready to wake up (as far as how many hours of sleep a girl of a certain age may require on any given night), in my dream I was aware enough of how dangerous it could be to become comfortable and familiar again with EF that I literally dragged myself out of my dream to wakefulness -- almost an hour before my alarm was set to go off!
O.K., so, damn for that! And double-damn for the fact that I had this dream in the first place! And triple damn that I couldn't shake the dream afterwards and so lay in bed panicked for the next forty two minutes!
I blame this week's episode of Gilmore girls. It set me up to have this dream. (If you watch the show, you'll know what I'm talking about. And just in case you taped the show and haven't watched it yet, I'm not gonna explain further here.)
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Thursday, April 12, 2007
I've been smoking lately...a lot...DAMN.
See, here's the thing: My current roommate has a boyfriend who lives in this lovely little coastal town in California. My roommate is a smoker. Her boyfriend is a smoker. And while I'm in total denial as to whether I'm a smoker or not, generally I only smoke when I'm hanging out with them, which is about once a week.
For instance, this past week I didn't have a single, solitary puff of anything remotely cigarette-esque. I'm sure I was exposed to myriad other carcinogens 'cause, well, hey, let's face it, everything causes cancer these days. Even so, I go down on Saturday night to Roommate's Boyfriend's house, and on my way feel obligated to buy two packs of cigarettes. Two! Two, I tell ya!
Why two, you may ask? Because, silly rabbit! For those of us who are "social smokers," half the fun is trying out different kinds of flavored cigarettes, even though they're generally stronger, and the next morning you feel like you've been living in a coal mine for the past twenty years. (Not that I would have any idea what that would actually feel like, but I have a fairly vivid imagination.) So I had to buy the cherry flavored pack -- which, by the way, are totally YUM! -- and then I had to get the Export A Extra Lights for my cool, unflavored pack.
And guess what? Between the three of us, we managed to polish off the entire pack of cherry cigarettes, and I smoked half a pack of my Extra Lights on top of that! DAMN!
And, yes, this morning I woke up feeling like I'd spent the last twenty years living in a coal mine. I even noticed that I was wheezing a bit all day today. There's this little whistle thing that's really fucking annoying and makes me feel like I'm the sad, sick character on a bad reality TV show that everyone's supposed to start out making fun of but later rediscovers their own humanity through witnessing my own personal, tortured journey.
And did I mention DAMN? I mean, seriously, DAMN! That's a lot of fucking smoking in about a seven and a half hour period!
*sigh*
I have to quit giving into peer pressure.
See, here's the thing: My current roommate has a boyfriend who lives in this lovely little coastal town in California. My roommate is a smoker. Her boyfriend is a smoker. And while I'm in total denial as to whether I'm a smoker or not, generally I only smoke when I'm hanging out with them, which is about once a week.
For instance, this past week I didn't have a single, solitary puff of anything remotely cigarette-esque. I'm sure I was exposed to myriad other carcinogens 'cause, well, hey, let's face it, everything causes cancer these days. Even so, I go down on Saturday night to Roommate's Boyfriend's house, and on my way feel obligated to buy two packs of cigarettes. Two! Two, I tell ya!
Why two, you may ask? Because, silly rabbit! For those of us who are "social smokers," half the fun is trying out different kinds of flavored cigarettes, even though they're generally stronger, and the next morning you feel like you've been living in a coal mine for the past twenty years. (Not that I would have any idea what that would actually feel like, but I have a fairly vivid imagination.) So I had to buy the cherry flavored pack -- which, by the way, are totally YUM! -- and then I had to get the Export A Extra Lights for my cool, unflavored pack.
And guess what? Between the three of us, we managed to polish off the entire pack of cherry cigarettes, and I smoked half a pack of my Extra Lights on top of that! DAMN!
And, yes, this morning I woke up feeling like I'd spent the last twenty years living in a coal mine. I even noticed that I was wheezing a bit all day today. There's this little whistle thing that's really fucking annoying and makes me feel like I'm the sad, sick character on a bad reality TV show that everyone's supposed to start out making fun of but later rediscovers their own humanity through witnessing my own personal, tortured journey.
And did I mention DAMN? I mean, seriously, DAMN! That's a lot of fucking smoking in about a seven and a half hour period!
*sigh*
I have to quit giving into peer pressure.
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