Dreamy

Robb has always claimed that he doesn't dream. I maintain that he doesn't remember most of his dreams. The morning of his recent doctor's appointment, I was going in to work late, and for once I would be getting up after Robb. Something jolted me awake, and I realized that Robb had overslept. I woke him up and he said that he would get up, just as soon as he got Mel Brooks his orange juice.

Apparently, Robb had been dreaming that Mel Brooks and his wife (not Anne Bancroft) were at our house, and Robb had to run downstairs to open the door for our grocery delivery man.

As dreaming Robb was running down the stairs, lucid Robb was thinking, "I've got to remember how this running thing works."

I used to have very vivid dreams, but for the most part, I'm not recalling any dreams at all. My delightful intern, Sheri, recently gave me a dream-catcher that she had made. And oddly, the morning before she gave it to me was the first time in months that I can remember dreaming.

It wasn't about green onions marching up the stairs, though. That was something I saw as Sheri and I were walking down the street in Berkeley today. We passed an alley, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that I just couldn't resolve into an sensible image. I paused, looked, thought, and walked down the alley to investigate. Huh. It didn't make a whole lot more sense, when I did see what it was.

Very dream like.