Friday, January 7, 2011

Cher, Bear and Pork

This week I've been coming home from work exhausted. I'm just not used to these grueling five-day work weeks, with nothing to look forward to but MLK and Groundhog days. Last night, for the first time in a long time, I actually got eight hours of sleep. (Without the help of alcohol, prescription drugs or CSPAN.)

Let's take a look at this morning's output of my Sleep Cycle app...

Went to bed / woke up: 9:43 / 5:43
Total time: 7h 59m

Dream Key
A: I was Cher's personal assistant and couldn't get her Starbuck's order right. And the barista kept putting the cardboard sleeve inside the cup.
B: Attacked by bears... and you were there!* Grrrr.
C: Barbecue pork sandwich.

Not you, Julie. Maybe tomorrow night.


  1. I love when I dream of Barbecue.

  2. Me too. But my food dreams, like my sex dreams (and my personal assistant to Cher dreams, evidently) always end in frustration. In this case, my BBQ sandwich fell to the bottom of the toaster oven and burnt up. I woke up starving. While my oatmeal was cooking, I ate Fritos.

  3. LOL! When high on cold meds a few weeks ago, I had a very vivid, all night dream in which I was in prison, and rather enjoyed it. It was like Community College with tiny little dorms and when my coworkers called me for stuff, I simply had to say "I can't, I'm in prison."
    Good times.