Loud-mouthed liberal feminist. Anarchist knitter. Tequila-drinking artsy-smartsy fat chick. Bluesy folk-rock singer-songwriter. Rebel with too many causes. Quirky eclectic pagan poet. Paradoxical intuitive smartass. Sarcastic brainiac insomniac. You know, for starters.


The mayer, my mom, and meteor showers...

Last night was a weird one.

I'm stressing myself into a cold, and so last night, after working just a wee bit late, I hied me home and, after a few quick tunes to keep the fingers nimble and the voice ship-shape, I hit the bed. Like, at 8:30. I know, sort of unbelieveable. But true, nevertheless.

I dreamed a peculiar dream involving John Mayer, my mom, and meteor showers.

We were in Chicago, only it was a futuristic Chicago, with all these tube-like transport things instead of the el, and these underground trains nothing like the subways now.

So, he and I and my mom, who at this point in the dream was not *my* mom, but John's mom (how weird is that?) - we were walking up a grass-covered hill by the lake, when his mom (my mom) and I saw a shooting star. We both pointed and exclaimed, although we called it a comet (which it patently was not). Next thing you know, shooting stars are everywhere, and we can see big meteors coming through the atmostphere and hitting the ground not far from where we were standing. It was straight out of one of those dorky meteor-ends-the-world movies from a few years back. Anyway, we're all scared at this point, and next thing I know, John grabs me and wraps his arms around me all protective-like.

I don't think I can adequately describe the dream-magnified sense of safety and comfort that I felt. It was something I've just never actually felt - this feeling of being safe and supported and protected and cherished...it was amazing. If I could find a way to tap that feeling in waking life...I don't know what, but I bet I'd be a much more contented soul than I am now.

Anyway, we stayed locked like that until the meteors stopped falling around us, and then after a few minutes, I got self-conscious about clinging to a rock star like some dumbass bimbette, and pulled away.

He gave me this really sweet, really adorable grin and reached down to take my hand. Needless to say, even in my sleep, my heart was fluttering.

We walked a few blocks, the three of us, to some underground train station thing, and then the dream got weirder.

Suddenly my mom wasn't John's mom anymore, she was my mom again, and she and I were standing outside this grocery store. We wanted to go in, but I didn't have on shoes. There were shoes everywhere all over the sidewalk leading under this archway onto the parking lot, but none of these shoes would fit me, and so I couldn't go in. I kept trying on pair after pair, but nothing fit, and I started crying.

That would be when I woke up, scratching my head and pulling a purring cat off my face.

Yeah, I have no idea what the hell that dream means. Other than a reminder that I have big feet and probably need to get laid.

In song news....it's picking back up in the ratings: back to 4.4 stars, and climbing back to where it was in the ranks.

You can kick me, sure, but I don't stay down long.

No comments: