Dreaming

If you've read this blog for any period of time, you know that I am a dreamer. Not a wishing on stars type of dreamer, I have very vivid dreams when I sleep. I remember most of them, and used to keep a dream journal, I found them so interesting. I don't have time for that anymore, so now I just wake up and tell Todd about them and hope he can recall them upon command in a few years.

The strange thing is, I have awful dreams about Todd from time to time. This has been happening since we got married. I know this sounds disgusting to some of you, but Todd and I really have what I would consider to be a *perfect* relationship. Call it newlywed syndrome...Call it what you want. But we don't argue. It's not in our nature to argue, really. Not with each other, not with other people. A healthy debate is another thing altogether. And I'm not naive enough to think that we won't ever argue, or that we'll never disagree on things. I'm just saying, the Todd I know is not the Todd I dream about.

So I think that sub-consciously, I'm waiting for the other shoe to fall with Todd. I have to tell you, for those of you who don't know, I've not had the best track record with relationships. I could write a best seller on the situations I've put myself in, the types of men I've dated (or "not-so-dated"), the shit I put up with. This is not to say that I haven't had some good ones, because I have. You always know the good ones when you still keep in touch with them, you're able to maintain a friendship when it's done, with nothing hanging over your heads. At least in the Dictionary of Lauri, that's what a "good one" means. I should also mention that I have very few regrets with the not-so-good ones. I learned from them. I'm better because of them. I raised my standards each time, I got bruised and broken and became stronger from putting myself back together. Without them, I wouldn't realize just how wonderful Todd is.

Anyway, I wake up so disturbed by these dreams. Todd hates it because for the first hour of the morning, I'm avoiding eye contact and giving him the cold shoulder...The dreams are so real that I have to "shake" the things he's done in the dream when I wake up or they'll haunt me all day.

I think I need hypnotherapy or something. Todd has great dreams about us. A day could pass where he does the sweetest things for me, says all the right things (and means them), and I lie down with a smile on my face and a song in my heart that says, THANK YOU JESUS FOR THIS MAN! Then I fall asleep and he's taken on a terrible drug habit, or he's a pathological liar. I just don't see how it works.

I dream that I'm pregnant at least once a week. Last night was a pregnancy dream, and Todd didn't show up for the delivery. There were my mom and sister, by my side, helping me through it. And when Todd finally did make it to the hospital to see his newborn son, the baby looked like it was about 2 years old. Still lying in that little bed thing they put them in at the hospital. And he just looked at the baby, didn't want to touch it or didn't care what we named it...He just went outside, where there was a 50 person Gospel singing choir in red robes and swaying to the music.

(P.S. "JESUS" isn't recognized in the spell checker. We're all going to hell.)

Scraping

As I sit here typing, there are men (I can only assume their gender) under my office building, I think directly under my desk, scraping rust from the pier-and-beam support system for our building. Metal against metal, scraping away. Continuous scraping. Like fingernails on a chalkboard. And they expect me to work here.

Ticks, Trees and Traditions

Jack didn't get sick from the buttermilk pie, he actually really enjoyed the two hour ride home and his time out in the sticks of East Texas. He enjoyed being outside without a leash, went walking through the woods with Todd and came back with ticks (yikes!) and apparently loved the sound of his fingernails tap-tap-tapping on mom's hardwood floors. He followed me everywhere. Something I love so much it makes my heart melt.

It was a really good Thanksgiving holiday. I really enjoyed my time home -- seeing mom's new house and what my sister is doing to redecorate her new home as well. Makes me wish so badly that I owned a home. One day.

Mostly I loved the ride there and back, and the little trips in between, because you get to see some of the most beautiful colors of fall with all of the leaves changing. The brightest yellows and reds are my favorites. Surely Todd got tired of me saying, "Look at that one! Man! So bright!" Nah, he loved them, too.

Equally as enjoyable were the church signs. Not the signs outside of churches, not that those weren't a blast, but the signs in people's yards: "We HEART Rose Hill Baptist Church", or "We HEART First Baptist Church"...you name it, they had it. It's almost like all the churches were running for homecoming queen. Tons of families had those signs in their yards and I couldn't help but wonder, "Why?" What purpose do the signs serve? Recruitment? Advertisement? Todd and I almost started counting them, tallying up which church had the most yard signs, but we were too hung over by then to put out the effort.

Speaking of hung over...Todd experienced what a true small town party is like in the wintertime - right beside a campfire. We met some friends for dinner (BYOB! In a dry county!) then headed out to the sticks where a friend was building his new house. When we arrived, the campfire was in full force. We didn't find out until the next day that they had a "burn ban" that weekend. Mom said the fine could be up to $1,000 if you're caught. Thankfully (and surprisingly), no one told on us. I still can't get the smell of smoke out of my pants or even the bra I wore that night. It was a lot of fun, though. And there was a port-a-potty, so I didn't have to squat in the woods.

We came back into town on Saturday and spent the rest of the weekend with Todd's family -- playing cards, eating and watching television. It was nice to relax with them for a while, as even though they live in the same town as us, we rarely get to see them for longer than an hour or so.

Todd's mom puts sausage in her stuffing (or dressing, rather), my mom does not. They smoke their turkey, my mom does not. Neither is "better", it's just that the consumption of this particular annual meal is a religious experience for me. My mom knows we must have turkey, dressing, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, homemade rolls, giblet gravy, cranberry sauce (from the can) and an array of desserts. If they're not there, the convulsions begin. Todd's family had steak and lobster one year. I just love it. BUT, if there's ever a time when I don't get to spend Thanksgiving somewhere near my mother and her cooking...Well let's just say I have a lot of learning to do. Because I can't go more than 365 days without that meal. My stomach is growling as I type this.

Now I'm back to work. And I have so much work to do that I can't see straight, I don't know where to start. The work pile-up isn't a result of the holiday. It's because it's end of year.

"End of year". Heh. I used to be so thankful when it came to the end of a year, looking forward to closing the door on it and starting fresh the next. Closing the door on all the mistakes, the misunderstandings, the unfulfilled wants, the regrets. Not so much this year - I have loved 2005. It was a banner year for me. But I am excited about what 2006 brings. It's just a different feeling altogether. A good one.