Analyze this, dream doctor!

Last night, I had a disturbing dream.
It was one of those long, drawn-out dreams that, even if you wake up briefly - like say to hit snooze three times and crawl closed-eyed back into bed - you fall right back into.

It involved my father and brother Michael who were vampires trying to kill me.
Not make me a vampire, which of course would have been super cool, but actually kill me.
{Blogger's note: This might not be too far from reality when, as children, my brother tried to kill me on at least seven different occasions. One is well documented in a photo my mother took of us because she thought it was "cute" that Michael was holding a shut-off chainsaw to my belly and had a maniacal smile on his face. Said photo is displayed prominently on his entertainment center - and is the only photo of us that is in such a prominent place. He - and our parents - adamantly deny the Seven Times He Tried To Kill Me. I wonder if this could count as number eight??}

Through the whole dream, myself and a girl who resembled Taylor Swift, who was a cashier in a grocery store that helped me find its soap display - apparently my OCD even makes me dream about Ivory soap - and I gave chase to my Papa and Michael.

The weirdest thing isn't that the chase spanned all four seasons.
It was the fact that as we chased them, we were doing it in RC cars and tanks because we were miniature-sized people.

Toward the end of the dream, Taylor twin and I went to the house next door to the house my brother lived in when he lived in Pa. seven years ago (got that?) and Papa killed the Taylor girl because she went in first, and Michael came out to talk to me, teeth bared naturally.

He was like "This has to happen. You can't keep hunting us. You tried to kill our leader in the grocery store with your soap hunt."

I was crying and trying to get away from him, but he had me cornered in the garage attic we used to play in - one that was ironically bat infested.

The reason I was crying and pleading with Michael?
Not because he was going to kill me, but because he wouldn't make me a vampire, something I'd so enjoy, what with my already fang-like canine teeth, penchant for black and insomnia.
What a jerk!

Hoot of the night owl.

Just because I've always been fascinated by vampires doesn't mean I should be an insomniac, does it?

Well, it certainly seems that way.

I've been going through one of my Bouts of Sleeplessness again, but this time it's because I'm feeling inspired.

I can't get my brain - or my body - to slow down.

I want to read.
I want to write.
I want to clean.
I want to exercise.
I want to take up cooking.
I want to dance around the house.

I'm like a kid with ADD for Pete's sake!

Take these past few days for example.
I already have 20.5 hours in at work and right now, instead of being dog-tired as I know I should be, I am feeling hyper. I almost wish I could hop on the Air Climber and bang out half an hour - and kick the ass of this morning's measly 15 minutes I did half asleep, but I'm afraid that when I do actually crash, it'll end up keeping up.

It's a vicious, vicious thing methinks.

I've always been a night owl, even when I was a little girl. Yet another trait inherited from Mommalah - it joins gnarly feet, searing wit and all-around fabulousness ... naturally.

Where are all my vampires?

Last year at this time, I was being ravaged by my annual cold.
Being that I absolutely adore Halloween, this was unacceptable.

I had a fantastic cheerleader costume that I simply would not miss wearing, so I holed up in my apartment the week before the holiday in hopes to kill the germs.
I crashed on my uber-comfy couch with tissues, what was practically an 8-ball of OTC meds, maybe one or three vodka and OJs (for vitamin C, natch) and the remote.

To my utmost joy, I found so many Halloween-related shows and movies on my cable. Thankfully, none of them were the blood-fest slasher flicks that frighten me so, I'm talking the real deal: old black & white classic horrors, where what you see isn't as frightening as what you don't, or what's implied. By far, my favorites were the many versions of "Dracula" starring the king of the Counts, Bela Lugosi.



I also enjoyed watching shows about my freaky obsession with the real Dracula, Vlad the Impaler, on The History Channel.

So this year, I was super excited to revisit my classically scary friends. Much to my disappointment, I've not seen a lineup like last year's all stars. WTF?

Is this not the haunting season? I mean, today, the Saturday night before Halloween, there should be more marathons of Dracula, Wolfman, Frankenstein and the like, then I can shake a stick at.
Instead, crickets.

Here I was, prepared to not leave my jammies today, save for a Target run (where I picked up the most adorable black and white polka dot galoshes, BTW) and sloth in front of the tube. Instead, after a sad trip through the guide channel, I shut the TV off and mustered up the strength to give the house a long overdo thorough cleansing - how very unvampire-like of me!
Now, I feel like I can't stop cleaning - it's like once you kill the lazy bug, you get into overdrive.

"Guess I'll watch my personal copy of "Dracula" now," she said with a frown.
Well, at least her house is sparkling clean ...