I don’t care… You have weird dreams all the time, but you are still compelled to tell me about each one in excruciating detail. Your storytelling ability is lacking when it comes to real life, and believe me, it doesn’t get any better when relaying stuff that didn’t actually happen and you can’t remember clearly.
Yes, I think it’s odd that every bad dream you have takes place at “your grandmothers house, but different”. Maybe you should talk to someone about that… just not me.
I don’t know what your dreams mean. I won’t even speculate. I think there are books about that at the library if you’re interested. But I don’t know what they mean today, and I probably won’t next week either. But that won’t stop you from asking, will it?
You would think that the fact that for the last two years, my responses have consisted solely of “Hmmm”, “that’s weird”, and utter silence would give you the hint that hearing about a dream second hand is one of the most boring, hard to follow, and irritating things in the world. I hope to God I don’t do anything that irritates you as much…
OK, I got that off my chest. It’s not worth fighting over in person. I love my wife, but I just had to vent. Thanks for listening.
Hippies used to say there was nothing as boring as somebody else’s dream, unless it was somebody else’s acid trip. Both experiences seem to generate some vague, yet impelling sense of being Significant.
Used to be, people would pay good money, and gobs of it, for somebody to listen to their dreams as though they were Important.
Anyway, I was on this train, going into the tunnel, on my way to my Mother’s house…
“Ah, Blackadder. It has been a wild afternoon full of strange omens. I dreamt that a large eagle circled the room three times and then got into bed with me and took all the blankets. And then I saw that it wasn’t an eagle at all but a large black snake. Also Duncan’s horses did turn and eat each other. As usual. Good portents for your duel, do you think?”
“Was it the dream where your wearing these sort of sun god robes, and thousands of screaming naked women are throwing tiny dill pickles at you? Why am I the only one who has that dream?”
You know that nightmare where you show up to school, and it’s the final, and no one told you, and you haven’t studied? That happened to me in real life. Twice. (Except for the part about no one telling me about the tests.)
I used to have that dream, a lot, where you show up in public in your underwear. And I used to have the dream where you have to take a test and you just aren’t ready.
So the other night – I’m not making this up – I had a dream where the teacher showed up, in his underwear, and he wasn’t ready to give the test.
Hehe, I bore my bf with my dreams all the time, he hates it! He has taken to going la la la la very loud when I attempt to tell him about them…but it didn’t put me off! I managed it in the end!
He seems to have this idea that my dreams are boring! The nerve! :righteously indignant:
Well, all things considered, there are a lot worse things to have to put up with. And for the record, I do listen, somewhat. Ok, maybe listen is too strong a word, but at least I don’t go “LA-LA-LA-LA”
I guess I’m not alone, and maybe some of you other “Dream-tellers” will find it in your hearts to limit yourselves once in a while.