The Strangest Dream

Yesterday morning, I woke up to a weird dream.

In the dream, I was at a party for an old friend of my dad’s, but I didn’t know who. There were lots of children around since most of my dad’s friends all have children of their own. But at this party, a girl my age had been talking to me about how I was almost 30 and I hadn’t gotten my life together yet.

The woman sympathized with me and said, “We should put this up on YouTube and see how many hits we can get.”

I told her how this was such a stupid idea, putting my birthday wish on camera and then posting it on the internet. I had told her about Chris Hardwick’s book The Nerdist Way, therapy with reading Louise Hay books, working with DORS to get me employment, and wishing that one day I could celebrate my 30th birthday in style in New Orleans, Louisiana.

My parents are currently on vacation in the Virgin Islands. So I have the whole house to myself in the real world. The only difference I feel right now is that it’s very quiet and very lonely without them.

But back to the dream. The next thing that happens is the woman takes out a camera and starts filming me as I’m talking about how I’ve always wanted to celebrate my birthday as I pictured it. I wanted a semi famous author to hold a surprise party for me, and I tried to think about famous authors that would do it for me.

In my entire life, I’ve never had a surprise party ever. Every birthday party I’ve had since I was six years old up until my 21st birthday was all planned. My parents and I planned my 13th birthday celebration to be held at a bowling alley. The only surprise that I didn’t see was that it was a “cosmic” bowling party, where the bowling alley turned off all the lights, turned on the fog machines, and turned on the blacklights to make everything glow in the dark.

My first and sixth birthday parties were held at home in my parents’ apartment. The only difference between those birthday parties was on my first birthday, I squished the cake and got icing all over my hands. When I was six, I got a Barbie doll that could close its eyes as it slept in a little doll’s bed. My seventh birthday party was at a McDonald’s, which I’m trying hard not to think about because it was just all kinds of crappy and it was the very last time I saw my grandfather alive.

I didn’t get another big birthday party until I turned 21. It was small, but then again, it was Friday night when I went, which I thought I was just going to karaoke to sing one song and go home. Instead, I stayed at the Charred Rib until after 1 a.m., and since my birthday was on a Saturday, people started buying me shots at midnight. That was fun.

Good thing I didn’t drink too much or I would have been sick on my birthday. I only drank one shot and then cut myself off because I felt pain in my lower belly after drinking it, still lingering through the morning. I still can’t drink shots because they hurt, no pun intended.

Anyway, the dream eventually ended with me swimming in an indoor pool at a hotel or somewhere, which was very odd after the whole party scene where I was being recorded by a new friend. When I woke up, I thought this would be a nice thing for my milestone birthday, as I would be leaving my twenties behind and entering a new decade of adulthood.

Meanwhile, my parents are enjoying their milestone wedding anniversary by going on vacation without me. 30 years of marriage is a cause for such a celebration and I hope my parents enjoy themselves, though I really wish they could come home soon.

I have no idea what I’m going to be doing in two years and a month from now. My 28th birthday is just weeks away and so is Shore Leave. As much as I’d like to meet Karen Gillan during the con and talk to her about her roles Amy Pond and Nebula, I really want time to slow down.

By the way, the results of my neuropsych analysis are officially in. I’m going to find out what’s really wrong with me in just a matter of days when I get down to Towson DORS for a meeting with my counselor. Please don’t let me be on the spectrum.

Maybe finding out won’t be so bad, though. Maybe it’s all in my head.

I’m surprised I’m still dreaming about birthday parties. With my surprise party, there’s got to be chocolate cake, a band or artist that I like (or even a deejay that plays only the good music I love), open bar, top hats, and a Baymax. That’s all I really want.

-Lady in the Blue Box

Playlist selection- a music video and a song that plays out like a dream


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