Dream Therapy

Do you know someone who insists on telling you their dreams? Like, hello, dreams are personal things that only have emotional and psychological attachment to the dreamer. When these people tell others about the giant eggplant they discovered growing in their kitchen (and it was so scary!), it doesn’t mean all that much to the listener.

I, personally, am not afraid of eggplants if they are just sitting there. But these people get really offended for some reason if you ask them specific questions about why they were afraid of the eggplant:

Patwoman: Was it a carnivorous eggplant?
Stupid Dreamer: What? No. Just an eggplant.
Patwoman: Did it growl or bite or threaten you in any way?
SD: No.
Patwoman: Well, then did it grow and grow and grow until you were sure it was going to crush you against the kitchen walls or force all of the air out of the room until you suffocated?
SD: No. It was just there on the table.
Patwoman: But you were afraid?
SD: Yes! Do you want to hear this or not?

Uh…

Of course, I am a raging hypocrite on this matter. I tell T my dreams pretty much every day. Of course, my dreams are a lot more interesting than eggplant dreams. If I had an eggplant dream, I wouldn’t be scared. (Except that I was actually dreaming about eggplants.) Now cucumber dreams… that’s a different story.
Lately my dreams have been about parallel universes, arguing with people, and going up and down stairs in unfamiliar office buildings.