I got about eight winks of sleep this weekend. No, I wasn't out boozing it all weekend. No, it wasn't a Dawson's Creek marathon. It was just me - not being able to sleep. And it was horrendous.
I tossed. I turned. I curled into a ball. I sprawled out. I stole covers. Scowled. Kicked the cat off the bed. (I meant "gently placed upon the floor," not "kicked"). I stretched. Yawned. Flipped over. Then just as I was about to give up on life, my God, I fell asleep.
And had the most bizarre dream ever. Someone please tell me what this dream might mean.
I was riding what I believed to be a ferris wheel with two of my bridesmaids. We each had our own gondola, and were having a grand time. You know, about as much fun as three girls can have in her own gondola on a ferris wheel in a twisted dream.
Suddenly, the ferris wheel went soaring into the sky. The wheel was huge, and we were seriously a mile in the sky, spinning around the gigantic wheel. My gondola was hanging by a thread, and I was hanging upside down, holding on to anything in sight to keep from falling out. I was panicking and screaming, while the other two were having a blast. I looked down and saw the ocean and land and anything for miles - because, hello, we were literally in the clouds. The wheel kept spinning, going faster and faster... and just when I thought I was going to lose my grip, tumble out of the gondola and splat onto the ground 406 miles below, the ride stopped. And we were back on the ground. I was crying, etc., like a total girl. And everyone else, including my bridesmaids, thought I was crazy.
And I woke up scared.