TSMA. Again.

Dear Friends,

I’m a little disappointed with my brain lately. Take two recent dreams:

In one, I have to traverse the desert. I can’t ride my bike in the sand, so I’m forced to abandon it. On the way, I lose everything I’m carrying. I’m completely traumatized by the loss of my cellphone.

Last night, I dreamt I was watching a tornado forming right outside the window, and I just barely escaped it. I’ve had many tornado dreams in my life, and they always take place at my parents’ house, with the whole family present. Stephanie, who is not only my expert behaviorist, handwriting-analyzer, astrologer, and all-purpose sisterly companion, is also an excellent dream-interpreter. She says a nearby tornado indicates that I feel I’ve lost control.

So tell me something I don’t know.

Also, in the same dream, I was completely freaking out over this water-spraying device that had descended from the sky and was attacking my car. It reminded me of War of the Worlds, which I saw as a kid, and together with Poltergeist, it has provided the framework for pretty much every scary or menacing dream I’ve ever had. I don’t know why, but it’s managed to sneak in there and nestle itself among the other archetypes:

You like the Jung jokes, no?

Today, I went to work. This is noteworthy, as I hadn’t been there in so long I’d forgotten about being employed. Afterwards, we went to dinner with the Sexiest Man Alive, who has apparently decided to stop reading this website so that we will continue to have something to talk about when we go out, and leaves me free to just make stuff up about him. Now, you may think from my recent notes that I spend every night with the Sexiest Man Alive, but you are incorrect. It’s only the memorable nights, if you get my drift.

So, Heather made some joke about how we hadn’t kissed him even though we’d been hanging out for a long time, and both he and I snapped into that guilty look at exactly the same moment. It was so well-timed and natural that the second he got out of the car, she yelled, “Did you kiss Bryan?”

Anyway, I’m so not kissing a man who expresses fear that I might show him my boobs. I’m going under the assumption that he’s squeamish about piercings, and not that he thinks I’m just that frightening.

Or does he?

I won’t have time to have anxiety dreams tonight, as I’ll be lying awake, wondering if I’ve just been rejected by the Sexiest Man Alive¹.

Jenni