I am notorious for having crazy dreams. I've especially noticed that the older I've gotten, the more my surroundings affect my subconscious. Take yesterday, for example, when a few uninteresting things happened. SP sent me a link to the local newspaper with an article about how blogs can sometimes bite and they referred to dooce.com. Part of my dream later that night involved me visiting Ohio which sort of looked like San Francisco to meet up with dooce's creator, Heather Armstrong. Nevermind that she lives in Utah. In my dream, she lived in a penthouse of sorts atop a six or seven story building. While I was up there, of course, there was an earthquake.
I saw the safe landing of the navy plane last night also, so what else do you think was a part of my dream? Apparently my husband has a friend who owns a jet fighter and he offered to take me and Sidney on a joy flight, which was very cool.
Oh yeah, and I forget the part of the dream where one of my coworkers emails everyone in the team and emphasizes the fact that I, among a few others, have not yet filled out my trip report about the Human Computer Interaction Conference I attended in Las Vegas almost three weeks ago.
When I was young my dreams were not nearly as complex. Like the one where I was dressed as my superheroine idol, Wonder Woman, and I got sucked down the bathtub drain and ended up on the other side of the world, in China. Or the one where I was running from Count Dracula through a department store in my pink slippers.
Life was so much simpler then.