... that a church group "hijacked" my food shelf and took over the operation, releasing a statement claiming I wasn't "doing the job very effectively."
... that Al Greene (who looked like someone completely different and sounded like Barry White) was producing a new radio show ...
... that I entered a rock-tumbling contest in the "Best Agate" category but showed up late to register and missed the judging. At least I received a nice bouquet of flowers from a co-worker...
... that I was lost in a huge Las Vegas hotel with Art Deco elevators and thousands of rooms, and a lobby that looked like an international airport lounge... I couldn't remember my room number, and kept walking into rooms that didn't belong to me.
WTF, I ask you. Every night, it's at least a triple feature. That, and night sweats. Ugh.
With the exception of the Al Greene appearance, none of these dreams are exceptional; all are versions of work, worry, and typical dream-settings for me. Thing is, every night is similar. It's entertaining, unless the dreams become frightening (a few nights ago I dreamed my child fell off a cliff.)
I'm far past the days of recording my dreams in detail, in a dream journal or some such. I know myself well enough to understand that most of this comes from the ever-fecund recombination mill of mundane subconsciousness. In other words, these are just processing dreams. I talked with two acquaintances yesterday about buying rock tumblers and how much electricity they use. I think about the food shelf constantly and feel guilty that I can't give it my full attention each day. I feel lost and anxious all the time.
I have no idea, however, why Al Greene should run around singing Barry White songs in my head. While looking suspiciously like Aaron Neville.