Bad Dream Catcher

I had a particularly absurd dream last night: I posed nude for my Christmas cards. Absurd. I never send Christmas cards!

One reason I never send Christmas cards is laziness. I can barely motivate myself, even on a good day, to take care of necessary business, so the thought of coming up with a list and addressing all those envelopes and licking all those stamps, well, it boggles my mind (and intimidates the crap out of me). The other reason is fear. The idea of folks displaying the card -- which would no doubt feature a picture of my children and not my potato-esque ass -- for the holidays and then ripping it up terrifies me. I have nightmares thinking about my children being torn to pieces, their one-eyed faces peering up in tall kitchen Hefty bags everywhere through stinky mounds of holiday leftovers.

Yep, pretty much my worst nightmare, until I watched the image on the inside of my eyelids last night of my vampy (yes, when I say "posed," I mean it) nude photo making its way through the post office date stamper and into my friends' and relatives' mailboxes. Let's just say the mail carriers wouldn't be the only ones "going postal" that day.

Sometimes I wonder what it is that precipitates a particularly disturbing dream, especially when, as far as I can recall, I went to bed feeling quite peaceful and content. I had sat with my son, daughter, and obese puggle Manny watching a recording of the week's Glee episode. My son was there simply because we begged him to join, but, if laughter is a reliable indicator, I'm pretty sure he enjoyed the moment as much as his sister and I did. Glee is at once pleasing because of its toe tapping musical performances and hilarious in its grotesque portrayal of high school students and staff. Hmm. Pleasing, hilarious, and grotesque; two out of three perfectly good explanations for the journey my unconscious mind took a few hours later. Could dream analysis possibly be that simple?

There's really nothing else I can point to in a rather uneventful day that might help to explain my nightmare. I had the most wonderful vicarious shopping spree when a customer asked me to bring her anything in the store I liked, and then pretty much bought all of it. I drove home during a rush hour with very little traffic, had a nice dinner with my kids, and worked out some nagging issues with an old friend. Then Glee, a few chocolate chip cookies, and early to bed. Absolutely nothing that might have foreshadowed my horrifying night and the extreme relief I would feel when my alarm went off. Let's just hope the dream was a one-timer, and more pleasant ones -- like my fireman fantasy -- will be on the schedule for the weekend.

I'd like to at least take this opportunity to reassure my friends and family they will not be receiving nude photographs of me in the mail next December. In fact, I'm fairly certain they won't be receiving anything from me at all.