Dreamy, Steamy, or Screamy?

So, I am doing this writing experiment for 30 days. #500WordsADay.

One of the comments on a post really got me thinking.  So much so, that I scrapped my planned post about plastic surgery and how Vanna White is, like, and alien or something because she has only aged about 5 minutes in the last 20 years without having so much plastic surgery she looks like a Muppet (ahem, Courteney Cox, Donatella, John Travolta). 

Seriously...she must bathe in Virgin blood.

The comment was about how random people (hello boy who went to Oak Tree for 3 months in the second grade!) pop into our dreams.  The second part of that comment was wondering how often we pop up in other people's dreams.....and that is pretty. dang. interesting.

I seriously have dreams about people from my past all of the time.  And not past boyfriends or anything like that (well, except for TC -- dream about that one roughly once a month and it's alternately fabulous and depressing), but about someone I sat next to in Freshman English at NU, or a coworker from 1994.  Totally random people who would probably not recognize me if I passed them on the street (mainly because of my eyebrows---I had very bad eyebrows from 1990-1996, seriously).


But now I have to wonder, do I ever pop up I random people's dreams?

Clearly, there are people who I would prefer were dreaming about me...ahem, you two.

But I also shudder to think of who might occasionally dream about me, and what exactly I might be doing in my dreams.....ew.  When I was 24, this dude offered to buy me breast implants if I would take a bath with him.  He was, like, 60.  Short, rotund, greasy, with oddly feminine, plump, little hands.  EW!!!  Double ew!  I wonder if he ever had a dream about me giving him a bath....triple ew!! (which, by the way never happened--I have never had fake boobs OR taken a bath with him or anyone over the age of 40.  pinkie swear)

Look, if any of you have been reading this blog for any length of time -- or since yesterday--- the issue of my promiscuity has come up a couple of times.  Well, I know what I am like in real life, and I can only assume Dream Mary is out there whorin' it up, giving obese, rich, old men baths and hand jobs to random cashiers and hobos........

Oh. Holy. Fuck.

I don't edit these things, guys, besides a rudimentary pass with the ol' spell-checker and some fun with font colors.  What I type is what you see which is what you get. 

So I am now stuck with the horrifying (whore-ifying?) mental image of every random dude that has propositioned me (lookin' at you, Bob, with your gold chains and ponytail, trying to make me drink a Viagra Martini--not a fancy blue concoction, ya'll...vodka martini with 2 Viagra dropped in the bottom--yikes!) having at least one dream where I give up the goodies.

So, yeah, this ended well.  I'm off to bed....to sleep perchance NOT dream!

I would sleep so much better if I had this.  How do I not have this yet?