Dream

You know those dreams that you wake up from thinking they might have been real? Well when I was a little tot I slept in a twin bed, had blue carpet in my bedroom, thought there was a secret passageway into an alternate universe in my closet, and had repetitive dreams that Michael Jordan was stabbing me in my back. What? Yeah, Michael Jordan. In his Bulls uniform.

Until I was in high school I wouldn’t let people touch my back and still to this day I occasionally will pout when someone pokes me or wants to check out my tag to make sure it doesn’t say “Made in Heaven.” My grandmother use to tell a story of a family of spiders that lived on my back and would crawl up my back to have a picnic on my head and it drove me INSANE. I much preferred the mother and daughter ladybugs that would slide down my ears…but the spiders tickled so bad, painfully bad.

I haven’t been dreaming lately and I could be super cheesy and say it’s because my reality is like a dream (someone pinch me? Because I’m kidding) but it is kind of sad not to remember anything from 6-8 hours of my day. I’m more of a daydreamer nowadays. I dream about going to Africa. I dream about the day I’m reunited with my Savior. I dream about a lace dress and red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. I dream about mac and cheese and popcorn chicken day at the Chi O house. I dream about dancing as in the eye of a hurricane (Drew Holcomb lyric that I’ve been itching to use.) I dream about writing a book, completing a triathlon, and being back at camp. I dream about North Carolina and Christmas lights.

I dream Katy would update so I don't have four posts in a row.