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erin go “blaaarrrghhh.”

March 17, 2011

Though I was woken up by the buzz of Pete’s phone at 6:00 a.m. (he was invited to a special St. Patrick’s Day breakfast beer at a bar downtown before heading to work), I still managed to doze until around 7:30, which was nice. I had every intention of working out today at the gym, but I need to meet my family at a (different) bar at 11:00 am, for the traditional corned beef and cabbage lunch.

No, I am not Irish (but my mother’s grandmother on her father’s side “was a Delaney”).

The first dream I remember from last night took place in a hospital waiting area. It was kind of a limbo room, physically in-between examining rooms and an operating room. I was there with three or four pregnant teenagers, all of whom were vomiting constantly. It was like a chorus of vomit, and every time one was done, she would look at me expectantly, waiting for some comforting words. My grandmother who is still living was also there, sitting on one of those skinny examining room beds. She couldn’t quite understand why she was there, and I had no good answers for her. I wasn’t even sure why I was there, though I would occasionally hug and comfort the young women who kept puking into their backpacks. Eventually my grandmother and I were permitted to leave the room, while she kept asking me where we were and how I knew those girls. We walked through another set of hallways and connected rooms, and wound up in a very similar room. I began to fear that we would never find our way out, that the doctor would never come to help my grandmother, and that we would be forgotten by hospital staff. My fears were never allayed, and the dream shifted.


We’re in the very long driveway at my aunt’s house, preparing for a large camping trip. My cousin’s VERY former boyfriend (like, 10-15 years ago former) is in our tent along with myself, my mother, Pete, my aunt, and a bunch of supplies. The day is sunny and warm, and there are people scattered all around their big front yard, packing up camping gear. I begin to get nervous about the size of our tent, thinking that not everyone will fit in it. My cousin approaches me and tells me to stop being such a “worry-wart,” because everything is under control, they have a truck and another big tent, and enough sleeping bags for 10 people. This satisfies any concern I had about not being prepared enough, and I start feeling anxious about when we’re just going to leave already. I can’t help but feel like we’re burning daylight, and the fast we move on, the faster we can start having fun. My attitude is annoying everyone, which makes me even more frustrated. I’m suddenly in a bed and I turn over roughly in it, to block out the rest of the people in the tent. I put the cover over my face and shut my eyes, and the dream ends.

…On further review, though, I wonder if I’d been sleeping better if I could have manipulated the end of that and had a dream WITHIN A DREAM. Drats! What a wasted opportunity.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everyone! Go enjoy some green beer and eat boiled food sure to make you gassy!

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Lisa permalink
    March 17, 2011 10:48 pm

    Really, I was going camping? This wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare!

  2. March 17, 2011 11:07 pm

    Haha, I didn’t know you read my blog, Mum!

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