Bad dog!

This morning I was having the most delightful dream. I was in a bar with Danny Masterson and we were talking to a woman who was recounting her former life as a meth head and how she was saved from that fate. Cut to me being released from a psych ward. (?) It is a grey, rainy day. I am escorted to a car by an older woman. A child walks next to me and we look at water drops on flowers and enjoy the misty breeze on our faces. Then for some reason we are at a school. (I often dream about schools) We are walking outside the buildings and it is between classes so there are children everywhere and it is very crowded. I am constantly bumping into them, but their images are all blurry, and the roar of their voices is very muted. All I can hear is quiet piano music and all I can see is the red brick and concrete architecture of the old school buildings.

Cut to me and the escort woman in a room. There is an entire wall of windows and they look out onto a rocky bay with waves crashing. I ask her why she can't just leave me alone and she asks if I am happy. I begin to try to explain my feelings. The perfect description begins to weave together- with the most perfect words and metaphors.........

And I wake up. And I try to write some of the monologue down before I forget it. But the dog is scratching at the door so I take him out. He pees and then proceeds to run around to a few regular spots he runs to where there is usually a lizard and generally act dumb and distracted. I then realize that I should have gone to the bathroom before I took him because I am about to wet myself. So I leave him on the screen porch and run to the bathroom. NO LONGER than ONE minute later, I return to take him back out and he has pooped ALL OVER the rug out there. I scold him righteously and put him outside.

I then walk into the kitchen for some coffee. When I get to the kitchen, I smell poo. I check my shoes.. clean. Must just be imagining it. I pour some coffee into a mug and see a brown smudge on my arm. *sniff* *gag* *barf, die, etc* Somehow poo got on my arm. So I washed it like a surgeon washes before surgery and then changed my clothes all the while cursing the entire canine race.

This is why I hate to get up in the morning. You leave the world of peace and rain and surreal vignettes only to be pooped on.