in which my subconcsious mind takes a stab at bringing me down
2006-06-22 | 6:54 p.m.

I once read that a dream is just a series of images, generated by the sleeping brain, that has a story of sorts imposed on it by your mind. Sometimes the images are random and the story is incoherent - at least, once you've woken up, it's incoherent; usually it makes sense while you're in the dream. Sometimes, though, when you're preoccupied with something, the images and/or the story imposed on them isn't random, but rather a reflection of the thing you've been thinking about.

So I had this dream last night. Or, well, I guess it was this morning. I was in an old house with two elderly female relatives - not real people, but the sort of people you would think of if you were trying to picture a generic elderly female relative. Also there were a male friend of mine (a real person) and some random other guy.

Anyway, while the old ladies and my friend were out of the room, the random other guy started kissing me. I didn't particularly like him, and he was a lousy kisser, but I kissed him back anyway, because ... well, I guess because I didn't know what else to do. It didn't occur to me to smack him in the face.

Then the two old ladies and my friend came back. And they just stood there and watched. One of the old ladies made some remark about how they might be witnessing the start of some dramatic romance, and my friend just smirked and said "no, I don't think so."

And then I was utterly mortified, so I left. Only it was pouring rain outside, and I forgot my shoes. So I had to go back in and get them.

A much more coherent series of events than my dreams usually contain, even with the shoe thing. And a more-than-a-little-disturbing representation of the pattern I've sworn never to repeat again at any cost.

Pah. The truth is, whenever I manage to stop worrying about my effing love life, or lack thereof, I'm completely, ridiculously happy. Everything else is going so well. Well, except for the fact that I haven't gotten paid yet, and won't get paid until the university gets the last of our ethics forms and releases the stoopid grant money. Or something. Yeah, okay, so I'm fretting about money, too. But otherwise, things are good. I like the job, I love the city in the summer, and I actually have something resembling a social life. (My needs in that department aren't all that high ... over the course of a couple of weeks, a couple of nights at the pub with a friend and a single afternoon on the cousin's rooftop patio are enough to make me feel like I have a life, it seems.)

I even seem to have landed an unanticipated four-day weekend! (Apparently, the Faculty of Medicine takes two days off for Saint-Jean-Baptiste day, something I discovered this morning when I showed up at work to find the building locked ... who knew??)

And my other cousin in Laval is having a big all-day barbecue this weekend, for the holiday, which means that I get to spend a significant amount of the day sitting out by the piscine. Oh yes, I knew I packed my bikini for a reason.

So, happy Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day everyone! Especially to those of you (aka everyone who reads this) who don't live in Quebec and thus don't celebrate Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day!

You can throw this back in my face when the August civic holiday rolls around, mmkay? But for now ... long weekend! Hurrah!

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