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| I'm pretty happy with my growth levels. |
Happy Five Month Birthday to the lil Webbmann. May all your dreams come true, well for the most part :).
I don’t know about ya’ll, but, I very rarely seem to remember my dreams. I used to firmly believe I didn’t dream at all, but my sister, Mary Ellen, always insisted that I was certainly incorrect, about lots of things-but, in specific, about this. Since she IS correct a good bit of the time, I’m just going with it and taking her word for it.
My big Sis remembers every moment, every detail, every stitch of clothing, every word uttered, and every breath the cast and characters of the production within her dream theatrics engage in. She can even wake up and go potty, get back in her bed, and kick off the dream again right where she says her dream sequence had left off. My Dad used to whisper to me early in the morning as we sat at the breakfast table listening to her detailed recants of the events of her previous night‘s sleep. . . . . “Honey, your sister Dreams in Technicolor, and her Dreams are surely Directed and Produced by Cecil B. DeMill”. My Dad was also another person who “was right about 95% of the time” so I reckon that may be why I felt somewhat left out in the dream category.
I never got to go with my sister, Ellen, to her dream places. She got to go to Africa on safari to hunt wild game, and was chased by wild pygmies that proudly wore their loin cloths that were probably custom designed by Bob Mackie, along with the head-dresses which they donned, as they tore the flesh off of the safari‘s group (less, of course, Mary Ellen). For those of you wondering, they later ate Bob Mackie, and he was never heard from again.” I didn’t write, star and produce a Broadway musical, have it open, run for 36 months and receive a Toni Award all in one night”. But in my sister’s amazing world of dreams, she did! As I remember the tales of all of Mary Ellen’s dream adventures, I realize that I did dream . . . .over and over and over and the same dreams “OFTEN”. I also can’t really say I ever had a dream I really “liked”. I can take them or leave them. Truth be known, I can LEAVE them.
I never got to go with my sister, Ellen, to her dream places. She got to go to Africa on safari to hunt wild game, and was chased by wild pygmies that proudly wore their loin cloths that were probably custom designed by Bob Mackie, along with the head-dresses which they donned, as they tore the flesh off of the safari‘s group (less, of course, Mary Ellen). For those of you wondering, they later ate Bob Mackie, and he was never heard from again.” I didn’t write, star and produce a Broadway musical, have it open, run for 36 months and receive a Toni Award all in one night”. But in my sister’s amazing world of dreams, she did! As I remember the tales of all of Mary Ellen’s dream adventures, I realize that I did dream . . . .over and over and over and the same dreams “OFTEN”. I also can’t really say I ever had a dream I really “liked”. I can take them or leave them. Truth be known, I can LEAVE them.
I hope and pray the Webbman has “dodged the much talked about "bullet" and does not have either side of the “dream gene“ from the Murphy side of the family. I don‘t want him dreaming in Technicolor like his “Nanny Ellen” or in frightening repetition like his “Bitsy“ Maybe he‘ll have a good dream about baseball, or about Ole Miss.. Or has one about baseball and Ole Miss - something that may have some potential for a happy ending.
Here are the four (4) dreams that Bitsy has had MOST of her born days. I’m sure someone could “examine” them and tell me what they mean, but I reckon that I’ve had them for 54 years and none of them have been on Nostradamus’ level, so we’d all be best advised to leave well enough alone. I would lay odds that they are a virtual “Pandora’s Box” - beware.
Dream #1
Scenario: Ultimately the plot is fairly simple. Bitsy goes to sleep and wakes up a completely different color (in my case, BLUE and not even a particularly nice shade of blue for my complexion. It’s that drab confederate faded out bluish gray). Dream starts out fine. {I mean people can survive if they aren’t white, sometimes humanity doesn’t make it easy on them, but they can do it.} I’ve been sleeping for awhile, and wake up. I get up out of my bed, go to the kitchen, get a glass of milk, heat it and have a seat at the kitchen table. I take a sip out of a yellow Coast Electric mug with the Reddi-Kilowatt emblem on the side (Remember him?). My brother, Pat, comes in, looks at me and says “Nice color”. I say, “Yeh, I love this mug. It’s Daddy’s”. He looks at me as he is fixing a glass of water and says “You have bigger problems than liking that baby puke yellow mug, Carleen - You really are weird, and that‘s BLUE”. I finish my milk, say goodnight and go to bed. I get up in the morning, go in the bathroom to wash my face and notice my whole body is BLUE. I hysterically run in the kitchen where my Momma is making breakfast and my brother, Pat, and my Daddy are sitting at the table. I shriek . . . . . “Look at me, I’m Blue”. My brother says “I told you that last night”. I say “What Am I Gonna Do - I have school in 10 minutes”. My Dad looks at me and says “At least you are Blue, Nobody in this family is big on other colors. We all like Blue”
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| Don't Laugh, this could be YOU, but the color is still a little off, not the right shade of "blue". Gives ya'll an idea though. |
The End
Dream #2
Scenario: Any given Sunday. Sitting in Mass. Monsignor Hannon goes to the pulpit and says “Today we are going to have a guest speaker”. We all look at each other and smile. He then says “Our Guest speaker today comes to us with years of experience and will talk to us about how we can all avoid sin” He then continues “Can you come up, Carleen”! I am perpetually about 10 in this dream, in a funky looking purple flowered empire dress and my hair is frizzy curly and looks like hell, but I do have a very stylish purple gros grain ribbon in it. Anyhow, I realize Monsignor Hannon just asked me to a) either come up and GIVE the sermon about how to avoid sin or b) he’s calling me up there to use ME as a PROP or an example of “sin” for whoever the guest speaker really is. Anyhow, I don’t stick around to find out……….The last vision in this stupid dream is me running down the center aisle of the OLG church and my pretty purple bow is flying out of my hair and landing on the red carpet.
The End - yet again.
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| RUN "SINNER" RUN ! |
The End - yet again.
Dream #3
Scenario: A friend and I are riding bikes down Beach Blvd in Cedar Point with the wind in our hair and the smell of “the Bay“ hitting our noses. We’re about ten (10) in this one too {active time in my life, I reckon}. We stop, ditch the bikes and sit a spell on the sea wall. We are relaxing just throwing rocks and watching the seagulls dive bomb fish when out of nowhere along the edge of the marsh opposite the sea wall, two scruffy derelict vagrant looking individuals appear. They have knives and 2 half full beer bottles, now that I think about it, they kind of look like the guys that Bert Reynolds encountered in the movie Deliverance.. They don’t see either one of us because we have slipped down and are crawling around down along the waters edge watching them. We come across a big 55 gallon trash drum that the County “supposedly” maintains. We decide it would be best to hide in there. Yeh, it was a big mistake. We get in it and it smells like Kozy Kitten cat food lovingly deposited by the local fishing enthusiasts. We cock the lid closed and are gasping for breath. Long story short, the trash truck comes and is in the process of emptying the trash receptacles . The truck is reaching for the can with its steely metal hands extending coldly for us and we’re screaming’ bloody murder. And NO, I do not wake the hell up.
The end - yet Adamngain.
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| I hope to God you NEVER have the opportunity to share a 55 gallon drum with more than a can or 2 of this stuff! |
Dream #4
Scenario:
The last and most boring of all the dreams, I hear a lot of other people have had too, so in a way it’s comforting to know I have one normal dream of sorts! Here I go, My Momma pulls into her parking spot at O.L.G. (she was still teaching school there so I’m somewhere between about 4th-6th grade). She and I get out the car, she heads on up to her classroom. I head on out to the playground, look down and am in my pajamas. I’m mortified, but nobody else seems to be. I do all my normal things that day at school, kickball, dodge ball, get in trouble for talking, eat lunch, etc, The dream evolves around ME in my PJ’s at school all day. This dream gets on my nerves, but it’s one of the standard set of four (4) that repeat themselves on a perpetual basis.
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| You'd be mortified too if you showed up at school in these! |
Again, I hope Webbman is spared from dreams of boredom or dreams of non-stop “drama” filled memories. Now, don’t get me wrong, Bitsy hopes Webb has high expectations of himself and those around him and wants the very most out of life, but I would like him to have “memorable dreams”, some that he can remember, enjoy and savor. I hope his dreams are calm, sweet and blessed. In fact, I hope his entire life is calm, sweet and blessed, just like him! I know that he will have challenges. Challenges are part of life and they help him develop character and determination. I also hope he never ever ever has to “Wake Up Blue“, or “haul ass down the aisle of a church as a “sinner“, or “never has to seek shelter in a garbage can whilst inhabited by Kozy Kitten“, or “show up at school in his pajamas“. I love him so and want him to have “ALL GOOD DREAMS”.
On the pervert issue from last night, I can honestly say, my “feet must have done it”. We had no weirded out searches that brought the unsavory “types” to Bitsy’s Bits in the last 24 hours,. I’m so very glad, but I’ll keep checking and keep you all posted! I may have to post some more photos of these feet! It works!
Ya’ll have a good good weekend.
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