Ah, the Dreaming

One of the really fun things about quitting smoking, besides the stress, irritability and general sense that you don't know what to do with yourself, is the dreams you may have on the Nicorette patches.

An example of strange things I've dreamed since Friday night:

* My supervisor's wife died and he came over to install carpet in our house.
* I was late for the bus at an amusement park, and ran onto it only to find it was an olde tyme saloon on the water.
* I moved into my college apartment only to discover it was my old condo, only to discover that I had only used one of the three floors available to me. In the dream, I was crestfallen to realize the place was bigger and cooler than I had ever known.
* I rode my bike from Santa Cruz, CA to Toledo, OH (which was 10 minutes) and all of a sudden realized there is this whole community of people who commute to work other than driving cars. And they were like really nice hippies! Fantastic, until
* We rode by a dead girl on the freeway and all stopped to call 911. She was really dead.
* I was fired from the Scotland opportunity because I had asked for two vacation days. My PM for the Scotland job spent hours with the payroll company trying to figure out how to fire me because of it. When questioned, she said that I was completely replaceable, that for every one of me (she held up her hand, her index finger up- then made a cutting motion with her other hand, as soon as she had no fingers, she popped all five back up) there are 5 more people who are more qualified, better for the position, and care more. At this point, after so much worrying in real life about this, I said, "Listen, if I'm not the one you want for this, that's fine." At which point she completely backtracked. The whole thing was exhausting. Dreaming it, and living it for the past several months.
* I was in Ohio, at my family's business, and everyone wanted to ask about biotechnology. "Tell me what's new with this biotechnology," they all said to me. In the dream I was searching for water, I was so parched I could not speak, I drank every beverage and glass and can of soda in sight. (note: I had gone to a toga party that night, and in preparation for how lame we thought it would be, Lakshmi, the Pope and MGM (fka DB) had all had a bunch of drinks. I had three jello shots which were pure vodka at the party, so indeed, I was dying of thirst, and this dream, I believe, was my body's way of saying, "Wake up, fergodsake, and take a drink of water! We're going to be in a LOT of pain in the morning." I did, and yet was still in pain in the morning.

Because that's just the way I roll.