I have quite an active imagination as far as dreams are concerned. I have some very whacked dreams at times, I have died or been murdered twice in my dreams, I have narrowly escaped dying at least a dozen times. I have killed and flown and leapt over houses, fought of lions, disposed of corpses and been folded into and mailed in an envelope. All of these quite surreal and easily distinguishable as fictional (I promise – I don’t think real people melt like plastic when you attack them with a blow-torch)
This past week though I have had a number of snippets of dreams that are too plausible. I dreamt the antique shop down the road from my folks was demolished to make way for some apartments.  I dreamt my boss told me that my  shirt was too low cut. I dreamt Wimpy forgot to put the avocado on my cheese bacon & avo burger. Oh no wait, that wasn’t a dream, that actually happened … damn.
Some folk would think these kinds of mundane activities in my dreams are preferable to the weird and often macabre dreams I usually have, but this is messing with my head! I drove past the antique shop yesterday and wondered what it was still doing there, and I’m feeling a little offended by the comment I know my boss wouldn’t have made.  What it boils down to is I am having some trouble distinguishing between these realistic dreams and my everyday reality. I’m walking around waiting to find out what else didn’t actually happen.
Tonight I think I will take a sleeping pill to make the dreams go away altogether. Doing all this normal stuff in my dreams is proving tiring, I think last night I even did some ironing …