Dear Medulla Oblongata,
Sure, change makes me nervous, and sure, I’ve been thinking about animal shelters lately, but dude — there is no excuse for the bat-sh*t absurdity you just put me through.
I mean, sure, making Mike and me catch our eight foster cats and bring them to the vet is rightfully worrisome. And tacking on the requirement that my ENTIRE FAMILY go with me was a nice touch. Oh, and let’s not forget making me late for the appointment by 1) causing me to do my hair and makeup and THEN remember I hadn’t yet showered; 2) making me drop my selected shirt into the stream of water so that I had to pick out another one. Those were artfully executed as well — stress-causing, but realistic enough that I didn’t know I was dreaming. Well done!
However, there is no excuse for the weirdness that followed. Magically increasing the number of cats from eight to about fifteen? Not cool! Changing the vet’s office to an unholy mix of petting zoo and carnival freak show? Not crikey, man! The huge ants that alternately sleep and spit fire out of their arses? Where in God’s name did you get THOSE from? We’ll just skip right over the little reptiles with snake bodies and crocodile heads. It’s better that way.
The grand finale of having the cats driving go-karts around a track, racing against my sprinting younger brothers — well, I refuse to dignify that freak show with any further discussion.
The bottom line is this: I use sleep for rest and escapism. Dreams that cause me to wake up UTTERLY confused and bewildered are of no use to me. Kindly remove the nonsensical anxiety + insanity dreams and replace them with nice rainbows and butterflies.
Or perhaps Joscelin Verreuil.
Best regards,
Lissa
P.S. I’ve no idea if the medulla oblongata is the part of the brain that causes dreams, but it’s such a funny-sounding name that I can’t resist using it. More coffee, please!