After a sleepless night because of possibly the most bizzaro dream I'm ever had, I'm sitting at JFK waiting for my flight to San Fran to meet up with Eliza and Travis for the improv festival. I'm tired so I needed my DunkinD and had to wait to get to JFK to get it. I stood in a line that wrapped around itself about 5 times, and ended up waiting 15 minutes for coffee. The whole time I'm waiting, the people behind me are commenting on this long line and the fact that there's only one coffee place in the whole airport!! It felt like one of those games to teach kids to pay attention to details. Look at this scene and say everything you possibly can about it!
"This is a long line"
"I can't believe there's only one coffee place in the whole airport."
"There might be a gourmet one down there."
"We're in NY!"
"Are they ording donuts for the whole plane?"
"Those donuts have jelly in them."
"I have feet!"
Just plain infuriating. If this had been POST coffee drinking, I would have laughed at it. Pre coffee? I wanted to shoot myself.
Oh, so the dream. Pretty much the only thing that's inspired me to write in this blog in a while. Sorry about that, loyal readers.
I dreamed I'd gotten breast implants. I got home and layed in bed and one implant started coming out the side. I took them out and started to put back the stuff that was originally in my breasts. Raspberries. I kept gently placing them back in the skin and then pulled both flaps of my breasts (which were cut from the top) to hold in place. A friend's boyfriend came over to help me out and said he could put the implants back. He took one into the kitchen to boil it in water. I went in the kitchen and smelled something burning and it was my implant. It had been sitting in water for so long the water had boiled out and it was melting. I thought, GREAT, now I have to hold my breasts up like this, filled with raspberries, FOREVER.
I had that dream OVER AND OVER last night. I'm so tired. Can someone please decifer this for me?
My flight is here. Hills and Trollys, here I come!
(I'll always think of Judy Garland when I think of San Fran. I heart you Judy G.)