I won't inflict upon you all the long, long details of the dream but I will give you the strangeness of the end:
For some reason I had been forced to live in a VA hospital in a room with an ancient nun and a very old man who had a Santa Claus beard and belly. There was some discussion with the nun about how I'd been in worse VA hospitals, that this one just wasn't that bad.
While all the furniture in the room except the beds appeared to be lovely old antiques (something the old nun and I had a long, detailed discussion about) the beds were actually ironing boards and I spent a lot of time trying to decide what height I should have left mine at, and if I should have slept with my head at the narrow or the wide end.
My last thought before going to sleep that first night was how sad it was that I would miss The Husband so much forever, and how I should have treasured all those nights I got to hear him snore beside me because never again would I be able to gently (well, alright, not always so gently) and tell him to roll over, that he was keeping me awake, damned it.Labels: husband, personal urban drama |
Well, geez, it kinda sounds like a Walmart version of heaven. Cept it wasn't heavenly.