The Morning After
Lately, I've been waking up laughing. The other morning, I woke up, propped up on my elbows. In my dream, I was reading a really funny book. I can't remember what made it so funny, but it was hysterical. I wish that I had written it.
I also look like Don King in the morning. This makes me laugh, but I pity anyone unfortunate enough to wake up next to me. It's a shock. I'm so sexy right before bed when my mascara is smudged and I smell like wine. I'm not sure what happens over night. How can I go to sleep looking like my usual self and wake up looking like a man? It's terrifying, really.
My dreams are always vivid. They have soundtracks and credits roll at the end. Some are even subtitled. When I wake up, I roll over and call Dad (this can also be uncomfortable for anyone waking up next to me). Dad wants to retire to do dream interpretation. He's very good.
I feel obligated to call people in the early morning hours. As soon as I am awake, I feel like everyone else should get up too. It's one of my charming quirks.
Yesterday, Dad didn't answer the phone. I called Mom instead. Mom was cleaning up the wreckage from Halloween.
"Did you have a party?" I asked.
"It was just George and me. I think."
"What do you mean? Don't you know who was there?"
"Well that's the thing...see, we got a few boxes of wine and made popcorn and handed out candy to the kids. I just found a bowl of fun size candy bars in the bathroom, but there's no wine anywhere. Not even empty boxes."
I began to tease her about drinking boxed Chablis when I heard George in the background yell, "Oh my G*d, I think we gave it to the kids!"
I am trick or treating in Mom's neighborhood next year.