The Dream that Started it All...

Before I delve into the absurdness that is my brain, there are probably a few things you should know about me.

Here are some reasons (that you may or may not care about) why I wanted to start this blog.
- I am a full time student working almost 30 hours a week, so, naturally, I needed something else to do.
- I have wanted to keep some sort of my log of my dreams for quite some time. I think dreams are fascinating and there have definitely been times where I wish I could go back and read some of the crazy things I dreamed about.
- My significant other (and I say this in the nicest way possible) is simply tired of hearing about them. Shortly after I wake up, I often find myself perplexed, laughing, confused, etc. from dreaming and wind up tugging at his sleeve like a child on Christmas because of my need to immediately explain what I've just experienced. Only in a more creepy way. He usually does not have a say in whether he will listen or not, and lately I've felt bad about it.
- Some of my friends do enjoy listening to them, though. Sometimes it's like a fight on who is crazier.

Here are some other random facts.
- I am not a writer. I haven't written anything worthy since high school, which totally disproves their mumbo-jumbo that you will have to write all the time in college. I suppose this is true for English majors, journalism majors, graduate students etc. who will have to write a lot in the future, but this is not the case for me. I am usually okay with spelling and grammar, but I can't promise that this will be Pulitzer prize winning or anything. Actually, I couldn't even tell you if the Pulitzer prize is for writing.
- I'm sort of creative, but not really. Although I wish I was, that just isn't the case. Therefore, there is no possible way that I can be making these up. I may occasionally try to fill some holes where my memory fails me, but I promise these are for realz.
- Like I said before, I am a student. I will try to update as often as I can, or whenever I want to procrastinate. Or when I'm bored at work.
- I know a lot of people like to think there is something more to dreams, like they predict your future, or are a projection of your most deep and hidden feelings and whatever. This is probably true, but I have given up trying to analyze my dreams. This is purely for fun and for my "records".
- My dreams are vivid, scary, funny, INCEPTION-LIKE (dun dun dun), and like most dreams, make no sense. 99 percent of the time they are super-weird.
- I wish I could draw. But I can't, so I will try to give super awesome details. Maybe I'll figure out how to draw someday.
- I like to use adjectives like super awesome.

Okay, enough of the boring stuff. Onward, to more fun things!

Here is one of the very first dreams I remember. I was probably, oh, 5 or 6 when this happened, and most of my friends have heard it a dozen times. It's a classic.

This took place in my childhood home in Milwaukee. My parents, brother and I lived in a one story house with various sequences of 4 stairs, one of which connected the living room with the den. Side note: when I was 3  I rolled down these stairs and hit my head on the coffee table which probably is the source of my loose screws. Anyway, my dreams usually take place in vary strange and unfamiliar settings, but this dream took place in the exact replica of this house. In my dream, I got out of my bed. At this time my brother and I had bunk beds. He had the super cool top bunk, and because I was younger had to suffer with the not-so-fun bottom bunk which was perpendicular with his. I headed out of the door down the hallway, which opened to the living room where all of our toys lay strewn about. This turned into another hallway with the main bathroom on the left and my parents' bedroom straight ahead. I slid the slidey-door open to the bathroom. When you first walked in, the vanity was to the left, with the toilet behind it, and the shower and tub (separate) were on the right. This bathroom was pink. From the floor tiles to the tub, full-blown 80's pink.

I immediately noticed a toilet scrubber moving in a cleaning motion by itself. It was one of the old ones with the white plastic handle and the scrubby part curled in an "O" shape at the end. Hmm, that was strange. My next move was to look in the giant mirror that was placed on the wall perpendicular with the vanity, but nothing could prepare me for what I saw. OH. MY. GOD. THE GHOST OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN WAS CLEANING MY TOILET.

When I looked away from the mirror and over at the toilet with the scrubber, there he appeared in real ghost form. He had his famous black tux on, but no top hat. Instead of finding this cool, or even interesting, 5-year-old me screamed. I was mortified. Interesting enough, I thought I was making up the whole idea that you could see ghosts in mirrors until I saw the movie 'Skeleton Key' with Kate Hudson and they told her not to look in the mirrors because they were all ghosts or something. So how did 5-year-old me know that? Who knows. To this day I still find that part mind-boggling.

And yes, I am still afraid of Abraham Lincoln 16 years later.