Dreams and images

Simon has been sick all week. Fever. We think it’s the 3 huge molars that are pushing through his gums. Gotta hurt. It doesn’t help that it’s also hot outside. I made the mistake of wearing jeans today. Panini on a patio on Sparks Street was decidedly unpleasant, aside from sandwich, the company (JD) and the yummy kidney bean side salad.

Suzy and I both awoke this morning eager to talk about our intermittent nocturnal nightmares. Intermittent because Simon kept waking up. Nightmarish? You decide. Suzy dreamed she had to pee so badly that she did so in a public place, only to discover mid-squat that a surveillance camera was trained on her. In my dream, Count Dracula was living in my house. Over lunch, JD asked, “You mean the real Count Dracula?” I wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. Anyway, the scary part was not just having Dracula as a houseguest. It was that he gave me a blow job. A bad one. I am left with the image of the top of Dracula’s head, and the dilemma of how to tell the Prince of Darkness that he was a bad suck.

JD told me that The Globe and Mail is accepting submissions of dreams for free analysis this week. I think I’ll pass.

More soon! Thanks for dropping in. Have a bloody good Canada Day!

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