tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9734181136067843172024-03-12T19:07:31.164-07:00My Drooling MindMy drooling mind will tell the stories that happen while I sleep. These are real dreams that really don't happen.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973418113606784317.post-90148712056966138352009-11-09T22:34:00.000-08:002009-11-10T08:23:38.659-08:00No Gyno for this girl!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="TEXT-DECORATION: none" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigMUqw-r2BAWlLD40Lhyphenhypheny3kuy35keTZBJkWUuB4FLrjn-MyQGxrwHmPXwZhRLzFw5NbrCRRzSGPUbm4gyyrKhWXBrcqcWnykCiX-VAPQOzdUjBpv5sd5S3SY72hNtqWu_j6EPU1rrRQ84/s1600-h/a-trip-to-the-gynecologist.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402360073085558930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigMUqw-r2BAWlLD40Lhyphenhypheny3kuy35keTZBJkWUuB4FLrjn-MyQGxrwHmPXwZhRLzFw5NbrCRRzSGPUbm4gyyrKhWXBrcqcWnykCiX-VAPQOzdUjBpv5sd5S3SY72hNtqWu_j6EPU1rrRQ84/s320/a-trip-to-the-gynecologist.jpg" border="0" /><br /></a><div>I've thought long and hard about the dream I had last night and honestly, I can't give out the details. The reason is because I bet my parents read this, my sister reads this, prude people read this and so therefore it's just not something I can share with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">cyber</span> world. </div><div><br /></div><div>What I can tell you is that after this dream, going to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Gyno</span> is something I'm more scared of than ever. Let's just say a dark room, spot light on my, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ahhh</span>, nether region is very uncomfortable. Oh and let's not forget the fact that the exam room was similar to a display window in a department store, facing a busy street corner is just too much to discuss. On top of that, the male doctor asking me to do something in order to complete the exam is just, well, inappropriate. But, after that "yearly check up" he said all is well. Whew, thank goodness! </div><div><br /></div><div>Just so you know, I don't blog about my dreams for anyone else but myself. I write them down just so I won't forget them, and will know just how creative, and lucid my mind can be while I sleep. My drooling mind really does has a mind of it's own. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973418113606784317.post-12644227940604304442009-11-08T17:24:00.000-08:002009-11-08T17:33:32.288-08:00?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Last night's dreams were really weird. I won't give details about most of it but the one thing I will tell is that I was dating a Mexican. Not that that is bad, but he broke up with me. Yeah, HE broke up with me. I think it should have been the other way around. Just </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">say'n</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Which reminds me. When I was growing up we always got a call from a Hispanic guy name Jose (I think that was his name). He would call and ask for a "Lori". Well considering I was a 10 year old girl, my parents didn't think it was for me and come to find out, he had the wrong number. But he still called all the time. My mom always joked that I was dating </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Jose Consuela <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Rodriguez</span> III. Maybe this was his way of finally letting me go. </span></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973418113606784317.post-47287163620103474352009-11-07T00:03:00.000-08:002009-11-07T00:12:21.789-08:00Sarah+Sacrament= oh no!!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Not much to tell about this dream, but a few months ago I had a dream about my roommate blessing the sacrament at church. I was sitting next to her parents when they noticed that their daughter was blessing the sacrament. She blessed it, said "amen" then her parents looked at me and went off about the status of her car. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">They were more concerned about her car than they were about her blessing the sacrament. It was random dream I had a few months ago. Since then the Lingwalls, have gotten their car up to code with the Utah state law. Maybe I was just concerned about their car passing or something. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973418113606784317.post-48622222432161658012009-11-04T20:53:00.000-08:002009-11-05T10:15:40.851-08:00The Spirit of Prophecy and Revelation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUGTPl1lFECu8mL3JDl8tyMbzJwdHybxj7EZ8GKaMh7Qd3lAdiJLjNVKcnvmXbf0T2KcJSGKjZ0xP5UKgW6SZzmvSOwuXgCZmCRGMV2IibbgkgknZfJhljJ52HNIHTeqhXrEJny2Pf-E/s1600-h/1258997_02eb_625x1000.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400478795675456034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 255px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUGTPl1lFECu8mL3JDl8tyMbzJwdHybxj7EZ8GKaMh7Qd3lAdiJLjNVKcnvmXbf0T2KcJSGKjZ0xP5UKgW6SZzmvSOwuXgCZmCRGMV2IibbgkgknZfJhljJ52HNIHTeqhXrEJny2Pf-E/s320/1258997_02eb_625x1000.jpg" border="0" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">If our government finds out about the dream I had last night, I'm sure to be invited to the White House for a chit chat in the Oval office while enjoying a cold Pabst beer with the Commander in Chief himself. Then I'll be escorted to Area 51 where they will suck my memory out of my brain and leave me on the side of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ol</span>' Route 66 in Arizona. And last night's dream explains why.</span> <div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">I was enjoying a nice evening outside with friends when all of the sudden I looked to the sky. Hundreds of F-16 planes flew over, followed by bomber planes dropping thousands of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">parachuters</span>. My first thought was that we were being invaded by another country. We all ran into our houses where we proceeded to try and find places to hide. Thinking that this was the end of the world.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">Nope, that wasn't it. It just so happened to be our own government invading our country. Yup, Obama and hi<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">s administration decided to invad</span>e themselves. As we found this out, a friend of mine handed me a shirt with a ironed on picture of Obama. This was to make it appear that I was on his side. (I'm not saying that I'm not on his side in real life, but in the dream I apparently wasn't on his side)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">As some army guy and Michelle Obama (in her <a href="http://blogs.suntimes.com/sweet/michellecatwoman.JPG">Halloween costume</a>) came barging in my home, they quickly grabbed my cell phone, and started reprogramming my TV. Apparently we were now under lock down and were limited on what we could watch and who we could talk to. I was so upset that I started yelling at Mrs. Obama in her kitty costume and all she did was smile at me and say nothing! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">That was the end of the dream. I'm sure my politically charged friends are eating this up. In fact, my brother analyzed the dream by saying "seems like the spirit of prophecy and revelation to me". We'll see about that.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">P.S. Mr Obama if you are reading this, I know you would never do this and I fully trust you. Oh and thank you for not sending Nancy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Pelosi</span> to my house. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973418113606784317.post-47800771348167661122009-11-03T21:58:00.000-08:002009-11-03T22:07:13.476-08:00What was that?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Last night's dream was random. Wait, all of my dreams are random. I really wish a professional could tell me what these mean.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">Last night my brother and I were being chased by coconut marshmallow spiders. My bro got bit by one and lived. I ended up chasing the darn thing and killed it. I don't get it, because I love marshmallows, but I hate spiders! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hmmmm</span>?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">The second half of my dream was something that I dream about a lot. It's kinda gross, but it happens a lot and I can't help it. I'm in a bathroom with tons of stalls. Each stall that I walk into is .... how you say "clogged" or hasn't been flushed. I go to several stalls and find the same thing. Over and over again. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">Seriously, what does this mean? My life is full of shit? I don't know. Either way, I wake up wondering, like I do every morning, what the heck that was all about!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">Time for me to go to sleep, wish me luck!</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973418113606784317.post-89508161798787855432009-11-02T14:04:00.000-08:002009-11-02T20:08:23.253-08:00Vacation Dream<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCqxwgvCmpsw2el8f3uXQ0oPoBJNNL4B7rC2jwRaJq-fhjomXk7dbvfqVUQFeXJxNlC8F8PPOlpwwQlAaLQ_PlrAGHQ2xdlh4dWpwbKWVOkV6FobHiP0CsdWS5Mu7exzyrjoXRmyCf9Hs/s1600-h/croatia[1].jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399631054226052514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCqxwgvCmpsw2el8f3uXQ0oPoBJNNL4B7rC2jwRaJq-fhjomXk7dbvfqVUQFeXJxNlC8F8PPOlpwwQlAaLQ_PlrAGHQ2xdlh4dWpwbKWVOkV6FobHiP0CsdWS5Mu7exzyrjoXRmyCf9Hs/s320/croatia%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:arial;">Last night during the 3-4 hours of sleep I managed to get, I went to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Croatia">Croatia</a>. My sister and I (yup Carrie, you've made my dreams twice in one week) decided to go on vacation. Carrie called me and said, "pack up, we leave in the morning". </span><span style="font-family:Arial;">Well for some reason I had no idea where we were going and only knew it was somewhere far away. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">As we arrived in Croatia, which didn't look a thing like the picture shown here, I soon realized I had forgotten my passport. Not only that, but Croatia was currently under Communist law and was a bit unstable. Carrie started yelling at me, which I didn't need to hear because I already knew I was in </span><span style="font-family:arial;">trouble and would probably end up on some Tijuana type prison for months, even years. I had visions of my country having to step in, send an ambassador and try their hardest to get me out. My only hope is that Bill Clinton was they guy they'd send because I knew he could do the job.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Carrie and I decided to try and contact the US Embassy, which never happened. So we decided to enjoy our vacation until I was sent to prison. We stayed at some poor families home, ate their food and didn't dare leave the house because of fighting in the streets. This meant enjoying our vacation was not going to happen. Fortunately for me I woke up before I was hauled off to prison. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">What this dream means is beyond me! I'm pretty sure I won't be going a foreign land anytime soon but if I do I'll not forget my passport. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973418113606784317.post-20208645374545100212009-10-26T00:13:00.000-07:002009-10-26T08:15:16.257-07:00Tori+Loser = Carrie<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Last night I had a dream I was at a intimate Tori Amos concert with my sister, Carrie. I walked into a small venue where Tori (my </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">fav</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">) was playing and stood next to my sister. I was so excited to be at yet another concert of Tori's. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">After each song Tori would walk down into the crowd and mingle with the people. After her song "Give" (which is my favorite from her new album) she walked over to Carrie and I. All I could do was say "Tori, I love your music and love you so much. Thank you". She thanked me and then proceeded to look at my sister for a few seconds. She grabbed her her hand, walked her over to the front and had her write something on a piece of paper and then began another song. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Carrie came back and just stood there. I was in shock because I met Tori but more so because Carrie and her seemed to exchange more than just the average fan/artist moment. I asked her what Tori had her write on that paper and Carrie said, "oh, nothing. Just my phone number" I then said "JUST YOUR PHONE NUMBER. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">WTF</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">"!! Carrie then said that Tori just wanted to call her later. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I was in total shock that my sister somehow exchanged a moment with Tori and asked here why she would want to call her. Carrie raised her hand and showed me a stamp on her hand. It read, "LOSER". I then realized that my sister thought she was a loser and for some reason Tori thought she could help. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I woke up that that moment. First mad that I didn't get to see the rest of the concert, then mad because Carrie had written "loser" on her hand. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Don't know what this all meant, but maybe Tori is the answer to my sister being happy. Don't know, but when Tori sang the song "Give", I about died. It was an amazing </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">performance</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">. :)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Yup, my dreams are weird and I love that I remember so many of them. I know that I haven't been writing much of them but I'm about to start back up.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Dreams in the past few months:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Sarah passing the sacrament</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Many murder and bloody dreams</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Dreams with houses burning and last but not least, messing up my parents anniversary party dreams!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Until tomorrow!</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973418113606784317.post-48218384021516261092009-08-31T20:59:00.000-07:002009-08-31T21:17:08.147-07:00Kick'n Some Hillbilly Ass!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Picture it, camping in the wilderness smelling the fresh air. Only to be woken up by the sound of the banjo and gun shots. This was my dream last Friday (8/28/09) while camping in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">mtns</span>. In my dream I awoke to those sounds. I opened up the tent and saw this guy!</span><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4zi0BA7Fko4fBOGvQzopq4Xw87QwRoZTOaJ2NDWg0cySKfzk19Xrw88tKG6c0oWZ7u7FaLrN-WRYvuTX_S7vftOTVNi5lo3MdbUvvQjUvYrTDMky086r2BR_DChwsDCdJokXlXniJDk/s320/hillbilly21.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376346118482133698" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">He was walking toward me with a shot gun and a bottle of whiskey in his hand. I yelled at him and asked what the hell he was doing. He stumbled and said he was looking for elk. I then said, "do I look like an elk to you?". He stumbled away and I laid back down.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">No more than 10 min later the whole gang of hillbillies came trotting into our campsite. One little, dirty read headed hillbilly got mad and shot at my friend Sarah who luckily was only grazed by the bullet in the arm. In the end we made them hillbillies leave and go find their elk. I went back into the tent and fell asleep.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">The end.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I think I shouldn't sleep in a tent anymore. I have crazy dreams when I sleep outside! <br /></span><br /><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973418113606784317.post-48047253168090503232009-08-20T16:09:00.000-07:002009-08-20T16:13:00.191-07:00Sexual Harassment<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Last night I watched a movie about Ted <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Bundy</span> and I thought my drooling mind would have a rough night after that, but it wasn't as bad as I thought. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Not much detail to this one, but it involved 2 sexual harassment cases at my work. (I was not one of them) I was told about the problems and then had to tell our H.R. dept. I recall the HR rep being my friend Michelle Allison. When I called her and told her what was happening she laughed. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">End of dream. So glad I wasn't beat and raped in that dream like I thought I'd be. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973418113606784317.post-11283458934404767972009-08-17T08:44:00.000-07:002009-08-17T08:47:16.961-07:00Bowling for Jesus!<span style="font-family:arial;">Last nights dream was spiritual and fun at the same time! </span><span style="font-family:arial;">I went to a church service at a Lutheran church. After the sermon we all headed to the bowling alley attached to the church and bowled for Jesus!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Now that's my kind of church!</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973418113606784317.post-34128404076404088892009-08-15T09:12:00.000-07:002009-08-17T08:47:59.923-07:00This Ain't No Brothel!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My surroundings have always affected my dreams. Last night Sarah and I decided to pretend we were camping. We set up the tent, made tin foil dinners and had camp talk. After falling asleep in the tent, my drooling mind came alive and this is what happened.</span></span> <div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My friend, Angela </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Lowder</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> made an </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">appearance</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> in the dream. Sarah, Lowder and I were sleeping (in my dream) and then I heard a knock at the tent. I unzipped it and there stood an attractive 30 something year old man. Lowder woke up and said he was here to see her. She left the tent only to return awhile later. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We all fell back asleep and then again, a knock at the tent. It was another attractive 30 something year old man. Again, Lowder said he was here to see her. Moments later 3 or 4 more men were knocking at the tent. I was getting mad at her for keeping us all awake and told her to leave so we could sleep. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The dream ended because I woke up for real, to the sound of the wind trying to blow the tent away. I'm just glad this wasn't a nightmare or a violent dream like I usually have. Until next time!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-973418113606784317.post-59337586819968851702009-08-13T22:34:00.000-07:002009-08-13T22:57:39.898-07:00Introduction<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Every morning I wake up and wonder what just happened during the past 5-8 hrs. I've always been able to not only remember most of my dreams, but describe them in detail. Always having the desire to write them down, I'm finally making it happen.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">This is my dream journal. This is where I'll write most of the stories that happen in my head while I sleep. Some may be pleasant, most will be weird and totally disturbing. Feel free to comment, express your concern for my mental </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">well being</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">, or just make fun of me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Let my drooling mind begin to drool. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0