My alarm usually goes off at 6am, but I usually wake up at 5:45 when Geoff gets in the shower. He's not very quiet about going in there and so I wait for him to finish up and I go use the bathroom, talk to him about the day, and I go back to sleep.
Doug leaves for work at 7:30, and usually by then I'm fast asleep. I sleep usually until 9am, when I absolutely HAVE to get up and face the day.
It is this period of time between Doug leaving and me being forcibly removed from bed that I have some wacky assed dreams. Here's the one from this morning:
I dreamed that I had to go somewhere and opted to ride my bike. Turns out it was on an Interstate, and I was traveling as fast as the cars were. I was working hard, because I am so out of shape, and it was a difficult journey. There were other people on bikes too on this highway in addition to the cars. Some of them weren't even trying and were weaving around the lanes, riding side by side and talking, and they kept getting in my way. I was trying to exit and these two dopes were just blocking everything, riding lackadaisically, and I had to yell at them to move or I'd miss my exit. They gave me the stink eye and swore at me, but I made the ramp at top speed and went flying happy to be free from the highway and onto the regular road in the home stretch.
When I finally reached my destination, it was over 40 miles on this bike and I was pleased but knackered. People were congratulating me on my success, on my achievement, going so far on the bike without doing any training or being in good shape. I was exhausted but beaming with pride. It felt really really good.
But then someone pointed out to me that I ruined my tire covers because I'd forgotten to remove them. I lifted up the handle bars of my bike and spun the front wheel around, sure enough I had these pretty wheel covers made of sheep wool, and they were destroyed. Then the same people who were just congratulating me were laughing at me for being stupid.
My feeling of incredible accomplishment was completely shot by the realization that I'd ruined something unnecessarily by being forgetful or having poor planning.
I tried to hang out with the people at the place where I'd biked to. I think that where we were was some sort of waiting area/lobby of a big hospital. I'm not sure what was going on or why we were all there, but they were all people I didn't know.
Most of them were Scandanavian and some were black, and they all spoke a secret language and avoided me, looking down their noses at me. They were all very good looking, had on different T-shirts of heavy metal bands with names I don't recognize or know...
I tried to go take a shower but no one would let me use the bathroom and they kept deliberately spilling things and throwing food on the ground near me. It became my job to clean up after them so we wouldn't get into trouble with our hosts.
Eventually many of them began to depart on their bikes, going down a very very steep incline into nowhere. I found my cousin Debi in the lobby of the hospital, and she told me we weren't allowed to leave until her brother Michael sent us pictures of the baby. She had her feet up on the wall and was playing with her cell phone. Another person I knew from high school was then there, throwing food and wine on the floor and walls. I was scrubbing the wine off the wall when I looked over at Debi's phone and there was a picture of a baby on her phone. I asked if that was the picture we were waiting for and she said yes, and went to leave. I checked my phone, and there was no message with a photo of a baby, so I knew I had to stay there.
I felt incredibly sad, but managed to clean all the food and wine up, spilled water all over a display of these rock band T-shirts. I reorganized them so the dry ones were on top and no one would see, and walked out of the lobby.