Dreams. lord.

 I think it has been established that my subconscious is a strange, dark land better left unexplored.   Except for I have to sleep.  And it loves when I sleep because it gains power.  It’s the monster in my head.   Not a scary “i will kill you” monster..  More of a  ” let’s steal stuff and go get drunk” kind of monster.

Soo.. last night’s dream.  (it’s a little choppy…  may be hard to follow…  )

My sister (who is neither battered nor poor) moved into a shelter.   And, like most things in my family, nobody talked about it.  She was just suddenly sleeping on the floor in a shelter with her one baby.  (in real life she has 3 kids)   I went to visit her a few times, but kept saying “hi” or “hello” to the other residents and that was not allowed.   So they told me if I kept greeting people I would be banned.  

So, I had a great idea.   I would take my sister and her baby to Las Vegas.  There was a great hotel there that was very expensive and I couldn’t afford it, but I knew where they had a secret staircase that led to the attic and we could sleep there for free.   The attic had beds and stuff, but was usually only for staff.   

So, now we are in Vegas.  With a baby.   And I can’t find the secret staircase.   It has been moved.  Or hidden behind a brick wall.   I don’t have enough money to pay for a room, so we come home.   And back to the shelter.  

I finally think’s it ridiculous that I don’t know why she in in a shelter, so I ask.   But now, she’s no longer my sister… now it’s my mom.

Mom…  I don’t understand why you guys are living in a shelter?

Well….  remember Hurricane Katrina?

Yes.

We quit paying our mortgage after that.  So, we haven’t paid our mortgage in 6 years.   But the bank doesn’t care about that.   What happened is the bank sent someone to our house to make sure that we deserved to still live there.   And, I am not a hoarder.  But apparently the dog is.  (note:  my parents’ house is the cleanest most organized home you’ve ever been to and they don’t have a dog).    The dog had been hiding toys and food and stuff all over the house under furniture.  I didn’t know it was there.   How was I supposed to keep track?  There are so many rooms.. I can’t check under every peice of furniture in the whole house, can I ??   The man from the bank said that this house was obviously occupied by someone suffering from severe depression and that they didn’t let depressed people stay in houses without paying their mortgage, because  depression can lead to suicide and that is messy and would have to be cleaned up.

Okay.  But Mom..  why did you stop paying your mortgage? 

Oh!  Because we wanted to buy Saints’ tickets in the owners box. 

And that is all I remember.   Yikes.

{and now I’ve added a “my f*ed up dreams” category… cuz clearly this shit is here to stay}