Unexplored Territory

Monday, September 17, 2007

Mystic Pizza

Last Friday, we decided to treat ourselves to our local pizza joint.

And the nightmares ensued.

The Queen came back at 12:30 *we were still awake* to report that she had had a bad dream. We are trying to break these kids of this habit. Stay in bed, dude. Don't come back to report a bad dream, only to say "I can't remember it ...."

Then the Monkey started SCREECHING at 1:30. As Kendra and I share the same fear of reaching the room to only see that they are lying in some pool of sick, I ran up to her room.

Bad dream. About a "disgusting hand." Not sure about that one. Quieted her down. Back to bed.

2:10 ... same thing. SCREECHING at the top of her lungs. She had had the same dream, and was begging to come back to our bedroom. I told her no. Yes, I'm heartless. But I don't like to start a bad habit with this one when I didn't allow with the other two. She finally settled back down, and I went backt to bed.

We woke up around 7 with the Monkey wake-up call. She started reporting her bad dream. Something about a doll that actually pooped and had spit in it. And it choked. And it died.

Sweet.

Then Ace revealed that he had had a dream (didn't say it was "bad") that our whole family was being hunted down by some bounty hunter.

And then mine revealed itself. I was in our van and accidentally ran off the road. I was caught inside and ended up swallowing some nasty river water (see something, here?). I went to Dr. McGeeky, and he lovingly told me that I was going to die. That was impossible, I thought. I felt just fine. He said "you will follow this downhill trend that will end up with high blood pressure. That is what you will die from."

So I frantically started to take care of loose ends. But I couldn't believe that I was going to die. I kept calling McGeeky to tell him I didn't think i was going to die. He said I would. And then I started to cough up blood. And I started to cry.

And that is when the Monkey woke us up.

I saw McGeeky at church yesterday morning when he and Ace were picking up the kids, and I informed him that I wasn't too happy with him as he had to break the bad news to me that I was dying ... in my dream. He made this face and said "I'm so sorry."

I mean ... the man apologized for coming into MY freaked out dream ... I told you he is a cutie.

And then, with the unerring ability of always knowing the right thing to say, he said "you know, my oldest has said that the only time that he has a bad dream is after eating pizza."

Labels: nightmares

2 Comments:

Anonymous said...: Dang! I think I see a ban on pizza in your house. LOL!; 10:47 AM
Janean said...: OH MY GOODNESS! It's great to know I'm not the only one in the United States who is getting woke up by kids with "bad dreams" 3-4 times a night.
I was starting to worry that I needed to take them to a shrink.
Whew!
Sisterhood of the sleep deprived.; 10:21 PM

Post a Comment

<< Home

I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.

The nine-year-old who seems to be growing older every minute, has an opinion and a comment for everything, and has a true servant's heart.

The seven-year-old who loves the organization of things, will someday be someone's therapist because of his kind soul, and will more than likely be living with us until he is 40 years old.

The five-year-old with the 13-year-old attitude, who has a dictator's personality, asks you to watch her all the time and say "hold on" to keep your attention, and will someday come home on the back of some dude's motorcycle with 10 tatts and a body piercing or two.

The man of the house, the fixer of things, the winner of prizes, and the only person in his family to escape the South.