Yeah, I have weird dreams, epic dreams, dreams were I’m the director of casts of thousands and I call all the shots.
Wishful thinking? Affirmative.
My dreams are extremely vivid and I can remember my dreams most mornings when I wake up. I look forward to going to bed at night so that I can have another weird and wonderful adventure.
In my dreams I can fly, I can ice-skate, I’m a rock-star and can sing my little lungs out. I dance like Ginger Rogers and can woo anyone with my sensual violin playing. One wiggle of my hips and all the women want to be me and all the men want me. I can pretty much do anything my warped little mind concocts in my dreams.
I don’t need to use recreational drugs to be transformed into a wicked world of complex plots that are all shot in full colour, panning the surroundings with wide angled lenses. I simply close my eyes and lay my head on my plump duck-down pillow.
I’ve blogged about this before.
Remember a while ago, I told y’all that my favourite part of the day is when I get into bed at night and I rest my head down and start drifting? I love those dozy last seconds before you fall into slumber and then my bonus it when I get whipped off on all sorts of thrilling quests - all over the world - and beyond.
Did the judges not watch my performance? Did they not know I was the best? Did they not see my cartwheel to a handstand, full turn and then double somersault dismount off the beam? Were they all fekking blind and stupid?
I was livid! I couldn’t contain myself. I started ripping the place apart, flinging chairs, hurling cups at the judges and stormed out of there only to fall down a flight of stairs and literally snap my ankle at the bottom.
So here’s just one of my adventures that I live through every night. Wanna come with me?
By the way. Why do people say cats are clean animals? Aren’t they covered in cat spit?Source URL: http://giantstepstalk.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-could-make-living-from-my-dreams.html
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Wishful thinking? Affirmative.
My dreams are extremely vivid and I can remember my dreams most mornings when I wake up. I look forward to going to bed at night so that I can have another weird and wonderful adventure.
In my dreams I can fly, I can ice-skate, I’m a rock-star and can sing my little lungs out. I dance like Ginger Rogers and can woo anyone with my sensual violin playing. One wiggle of my hips and all the women want to be me and all the men want me. I can pretty much do anything my warped little mind concocts in my dreams.
I don’t need to use recreational drugs to be transformed into a wicked world of complex plots that are all shot in full colour, panning the surroundings with wide angled lenses. I simply close my eyes and lay my head on my plump duck-down pillow.
I’ve blogged about this before.
Remember a while ago, I told y’all that my favourite part of the day is when I get into bed at night and I rest my head down and start drifting? I love those dozy last seconds before you fall into slumber and then my bonus it when I get whipped off on all sorts of thrilling quests - all over the world - and beyond.
Last night, I was a famous Gymnast performing in the Olympics. I was super skinny and ultra fit with dozens of cute figure-hugging sparkly lycra unitards in my tog bag. There was not a dimpled butt cheek in sight. My abs were like a wash-board and my bum shaped like a cute little peach, which a bullet could bounce off of.
I was strutting and prancing around the Olympic stadium knowing that I was going to win. Watching the crowd watch me. Everyone went silent as I walked past and I knew that my competition had nothing on me. I’d been training for this moment since I could remember. I was a fine tuned machine.
I took to the beam, spinning and leaping through the air like a butterfly, so graceful and strong. The crowd went ape-shit when I finished and I was standing their back arched, hands in the air, so smug and totally satisfied by their wild applause. My attitude reminded me of those popular girls at school we all hated – you know that ones....the pretty girls that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t penetrate their posse. I loved and hated myself at the same time oozing confidence.
Waiting for the results to appear on the score board, I smirked to myself knowing I would get the perfect score and get the Gold. When, the numbers appeared on the score board my mouth hung open in shock. I was stone last!
I was livid! I couldn’t contain myself. I started ripping the place apart, flinging chairs, hurling cups at the judges and stormed out of there only to fall down a flight of stairs and literally snap my ankle at the bottom.
So here’s just one of my adventures that I live through every night. Wanna come with me?
By the way. Why do people say cats are clean animals? Aren’t they covered in cat spit?Source URL: http://giantstepstalk.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-could-make-living-from-my-dreams.html
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