Tag Archives: strange dream

My body failed me, again

The idea was when I went to bed I would get up way early (1400) and return the pants I bought for Mrs. the Poet that were too big for her since the cuffs ended up about mid-arch of her foot instead of mid-ankle of her leg and also did not have a drawstring waist. When the alarm went off I remember picking up the phone to turn off the alarm, and nothing after that until Wheel of Fortune woke me again about 1830. I had some dreams where I was all sweaty for some reason that made sense in the dream but that I don’t remember now. I think that was when the AC shut down because it couldn’t handle the load and I was sweaty in real life and it transferred over to my dreams because that’s what dreams do.

So now the plan is to make the return early tomorrow and stay up all day so I can reset my body to diurnal from nocturnal. That’s the hope, anyway.

Another thing I’m having a problem with is I can’t use the bathroom until my diuretics kickstart my kidneys. I have been on diuretics since the start of the Obama administration or maybe before the end of the W Bush administration. It has been a long time anyway, and apparently my kidneys won’t work without them. My current medication of choice is HCTZ which is short for a word I don’t know how to spell and neither do most doctors and pharmacists hence the initialization. But when I got up today I didn’t have anything in my bladder to discharge until a few minutes after I took my morning drugs with my breakfast pizza of spinach and mushrooms in a white sauce. For my wife it was dinner, for me it was breakfast.

Anywho I took the med at the beginning of the meal after only getting a slight amount of fluid when I got up after more than 8 hours in bed, then about a half-hour later I had a full bladder to discharge. Like I just wrote it’s like my kidneys were waiting for the HCTZ to turn them on. Later I supercharged that by drinking a beer. Then urine was definitely flowed.


Weird dream time

I sometimes have really strange dreams, like the ones where they build miles long slides on top of mountain highways to keep the snow off in the winter and as a tourist ride during the summer, but the one that woke me up this morning topped them all.

I was on a tour of the White House and for some reason Trump came out to meet the tour, and someone in the group used a garrote made from synthetic materials to kill Trump. It was really gross, the string almost decapitated him, and I was standing in the splash zone. Then the Secret Service started shooting people, because someone killed the *president, and I got hit 3 times. Then the guy who did it shouted “I did it! I prevented World War three!” And that’s when things got really strange.

He claimed he was from an alternate time line where Trump had managed to trigger Armageddon by invading Iraq, when forces crossed the border a small fission explosion went off in a close in suburb of Tehran. Who built the bomb, and who set it off were never determined because when it did nukes started flying like beachballs at a Beach Boys concert, laying waste to large chunks of the Middle East, Russia, Europe, (but not the UK), both North and South Korea, parts of Japan, large areas of the US, Canada, and Mexico, and even Africa. Before communications shut down there was speculation it was a Soviet-era suitcase nuke, because it didn’t make any sense for Iran to keep a nuke just outside their capitol and because it was such a low yield weapon. The only parts of the world not hit by fission or fusion bombs were Australia and Antarctica, and the guy that killed Trump said that the Mad Max movies were a Utopia compared to what happened in Australia. All food production was disrupted because seed stocks were destroyed along with pollinating insects and of course there was no fossil fuels to distribute what food there was
so millions died of famine, millions more died from diseases spread by the mountains of unburied corpses, because there were no fossil fuels to run the equipment needed open the graves, or to burn the corpses. Anyway as I said it was a weird dream.

And I think either Mrs. the Poet or I had really bad gas last night because I remember thinking Trump smelled really bad when he got killed. I’ve been downwind of fresh corpses from car wrecks, and they didn’t smell like that.