Write Late, Sleep Hard, Dream Weird

Have you every had a weird dream so powerful, it just kept going on even after you woke up to hit snooze and to fall back to sleep?

I had one early this morning… and it left me running late for work.

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This doesn’t mean the dream was good or even made any sense, it just means it was too strong of a dream to just shut off, or for it to fade away.

In my dream, I snipped off one of my fingers with something resembling wire cutters. There was no blood, no pain, and I simply held my unattached finger in my opposite hand.

Not only was I not upset, I really didn’t seem to care about the loss of my finger at all.

Buzz of the phone alarm clock.

Open eyes.

Hit snooze.

Back to the dream.

A woman in my dream mentioned to me I should really do something about my unattached finger.

It was then I remembered I had a cousin who accidentally cut off the tip of her finger when a window slammed down on it. She put the tip of her finger in a glass of milk to preserve it on the way to the ER. (Okay, this part of my dream, this memory oddly enough, is true.)

In my dream, I put the my unattached finger in spaghetti sauce, but that didn’t work. Then I placed it in a cup of milk, but the spaghetti sauce residue was swirling in the cup.

That’s about all I remember before I heard John ask, “Erin, what time do you have to be at work?”

I bolted upright, glanced at the clock and replied, “Now!” as I hopped out of bed.

“Now?” John asked, “You told me you didn’t have to be at work for another hour.”

“Well, when you asked me I was sleeping, now I’m late for work because I cut off my finger in my dream,” I stated, as I rushed to get ready.

When I left, John was standing in the bedroom looking perplexed. There was no time to explain.

I arrived at work half an hour late, and frazzled. As I passed by my boss, I said,”Sorry, I’m late, I cut my finger off in a dream.”

Strangely, he didn’t reply… in fact, he didn’t say a thing.

I guess after all this time he understands my uniqueness.

I wish I had a better story as an explanation… like, I’m still recovering after a late night of clubbing in the city, I had to stop and put my winning lottery ticket in my safe deposit box at the bank, or the installation of my new Jacuzzi took longer than I expected, but I always go with the truth.

All day long, this dream kept crossing my mind so I decided to Google it.

Dream Symbol Search Results:

To dream that your fingers are injured or have been chopped off denote your anxieties about your ability to accomplish some demanding task or perform in some waking situation.

“Accomplish some demanding task.” All I could think about was writing and publishing this book…

And now, as I sit at my computer keyboard, I’m really concerned because I’m going to need all of my fingers for that!

My Life I Swear.

Erin Cooper Reed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Ahhh, Work…

Guys, I love you and I have been working like a dog. Strange expression… all I see dogs do is sleep.

Anyway, I have a million blog posts running through my head everyday and no time to write.

Have no fear, I’ll make it all up to you and I promise to deliver.

Carry on, hard workers of the world!

There’s more to come.

You can count on it.

I am a person of my word.

Erin Cooper Reed

Vacation!

Well, truth be told I haven’t had a vacation in five years and this year isn’t looking too promising either.

Starting over mid-life, after a divorce, isn’t easy to say the least. I think I have received more money from manufacturer’s rebates in the last five years than I have received in child support payments. (And just for the record, I don’t generally fill out manufacturer rebates.)

So here I sit planning how one combines a “Staycation” with a full work schedule… I mean is that even possible?

I guess I could cover myself in sun screen, and show up to work in a bikini and sunglasses but I’m not sure how well that would go over at my job.

So I guess that I’ll have to treasure the downtime I have and settle for the small pleasures in life…

Like laying on the bed in an air-conditioned room and reading a good book.

Or spending my day off weeding my mom’s walkway and watering her flowers only to see the appreciation and delight in her eyes as we sit and talk over a tuna sandwich.

Or staying up late listening to music with John, what we have named, “singing and dancing night.”

Or driving my kids wherever they need to go and savoring the uninterrupted alone time in the car with them, just to talk.

Or having them ask, “What are you making mom?”

And hearing them yell, “YES!!!” when I reply it’s their grandmother’s recipe. (One of their absolute favorites)

It’s the smiles, the conversation, the laughter and the time.

It’s the long hours and hard work that gives me the ability to say yes to that new pair of sneakers, the money for the movies or enables me to meet a need that they’re not sure I can.

So this summer, I won’t be sporting a tan or posting pictures on Facebook of the amazing view from my hotel room.

But I can tell you this, the view from this house isn’t so bad after all.

Happy summer!

I hope it’s the best!

Much love,

Erin Cooper Reed

 

 

 

DO NOT Call Me At Work Unless It’s An EMERGENCY

If there is one thing that I’ve instilled in all three of my children, it is the importance of not disrupting me at work, unless it is an emergency.

That being said, when I see one of their numbers come up on my cell phone, I’m struck with panic.

Oh God, I hope everything is okay!

“Mom.”

“Yes, Rocky?” I ask in a concerned voice, “Is everything all right?”

“No, everything is not all right! Marc traded my favorite sneakers to a kid up the street for a trash bag full of soda can returnables… my FAVORITE SNEAKERS!”

What? Okay, I’m at work right now. I’ll figure it out when I get home.” I reply.

“I hope so, if not I’m going to kill him!” Rocky yells before hanging up the phone.

 

Cell phone vibrates. Ugh, not again.

 

“Mom.”

“Yes, Kevin. What is it? I told you kids not to call me at work unless it’s an emergency.”

“Rocky and Marc are fighting. Is there any way you can lend me ten dollars or drive me to GameStop to sell some video games?” Kevin asks.

“Kev, I’m trying to work right now. Please make sure that your brothers aren’t fighting. I have to go.”

“Wait Mom, what time do you get out?”

 

Cell phone vibrates. You have got to be kidding me!

 

“Hello. Make it quick!”

 

“Mom… wait, wait, wait… don’t hang up.” I hear Marc say into the phone. “Rocky hit me! Is there anyway that you can take me to the store to return some soda cans?”

 

Tonight I’m having all of them Google the word “Emergency.

I don’t think the Google search will reveal anything to do with sneakers, soda cans or video games… but I’ll have them check anyway, just to be sure.

 

My life, I swear…

 

 

 

You Can’t Blog While Driving Around With An 80 Pound Pig

I’ve been eager to get back to my blog after working long hours all weekend. I’m a waitress, which doesn’t seem very exciting… unless you work where I work.

After a long Friday night shift, I was back at work at 6 a.m. the following day. By 7:20 a.m I was pulling a large truck around to the backside of a farm to pick up an 80 pound pig that my boss had ordered for a pig roast that we were catering.

I stepped out of the vehicle and was greeted by one of the workers.

I told him the name of the restaurant and repeated the details that I had committed to memory.

“I’m here to pick up an 80 pound pig, gutted, split and de hoofed.”

My stomach turned at the thought.

“You need a fig?” The worker replied.

What? I thought, confused.

“A pig.” I stated.

He nodded, turned and walked into the shadows of the barn.

I chuckled to myself, you would think that this guy would learn to pronounce the word pig, seeing that he worked at a pig farm.

He returned with a large sheet of brown paper and laid it across the length of the interior of the truck.

That was my cue, I quickly got back into the vehicle and sat in the driver’s seat. I couldn’t bear to see this dead pig.

When I heard the back doors of the truck slam closed, I started the engine and drove away.

I glanced in my rear view mirror… thankfully I couldn’t see a thing.

Although it was the early morning, the temperature was already rising as I rolled down the truck’s windows to let in some fresh air.

I thought about how I’d rather be writing than driving around on a hot day with a gutted pig on his way to meet his barbecued fate.

I knew that this busy weekend was going to leave me neglecting my blog.

Oh well, I thought, I can’t blog while I’m driving around with an 80 pound pig…

But I can certainly write about it later.