Dear Turkey, WTF?

Dear Turkey,

Since yesterday was Thanksgiving here in Calgary, and you were the last thing I ate, I can only assume that the following was ALL YOUR FAULT. Why did you keep me tossing and turning last night? Aren’t you chock full of lovely tryptophan? After last night’s performance in the dream arena, I’m inclined to think you may be chock full of hallucinogens. Because of you Turkey, I had the following dreams:

I dreamed I joined the Army reserves, right now, at 35. I dreamed my drill sergeant made us run miles and miles to keep up (surprisingly I had no problem). Then the drill sergeant decided to demonstrate an upside down headlock on me. I held it together for a record 80 seconds, but then my nose filled up with snot and I couldn’t breathe.

I dreamed about elevators again. I do that a lot, but these were worse than normal. The elevators were open platforms that moved at high rates of speed. Awesome.

Then I dreamed I was in a strange land, forced to find fae objects of power in order to get out. I can kind of blame this on all the Karen Marie Moning books I’ve been reading..

There’s one more, it’s right on the edge of my mind, but I can’t quite remember it yet. Likely I’ll look at a pear while grocery shopping and remember the whole thing. I’ll update when/if that happens. UPDATE: I just remembered the fourth dream, ironically while composing my grocery list. I dreamed that one of my favorite shopping sites, Dealextreme, was smuggling drugs in the middle of giant novelty erasers. As always in dreams, I was the hero and I busted the case wide open when I found drugs in the middle of a hot-dog shaped eraser.

In addition to the nocturnal weirdness darling Turkey, I have aches and pains like the drill sergeant did in fact demonstrate a headlock on me, and my brain is having a hard time believing that we got any sleep at all last night.

In closing sweet Turkey, I plan to eat the hell out of you for the next few days. So if we could come to an agreement that you won’t disturb my dreams, that would be great. I mean you were already dead when I bought you from Sobey’s, I didn’t even swing the axe. Therefore I see no reason for you to haunt me. Also, you are delicious. In a sandwich. With mayo and salt and pepper.

Love,

Jackie

Bloglover

Dear Turkey, WTF?