brought to you by the letter p . . .

this one's for all you women over a certain age.  You'll know who you are.  And the topic is dreams . . .  very specific dreams.  The ones generated from the need to relieve oneself in the middle of night, while tucked serenely in bed, peaceful and deep in sleep.

We all have them. Don't deny it.  There you are sound asleep in dreamland whether it be a long ago vision of high school, or visiting some exotic place or maybe dreaming of your own home.  The urge hits.  You need to 'go'.  But in your dream, you are always thwarted.  The toilet is too dirty.  The toilet is occupied.  The toilet is overflowing.  There is no door on the toilet.  You get the idea.

A couple of nights ago, I dreamt I was back in college with my friend Jennifer.  We were in our 60's but had opted for continuing education.  Our two roommates were also in their 60's.  One was doing an article on returning to university.  They thought Jen and I would make good subject matter.  All was fine except our room had no bathroom and I was feeling the urge.  I cruised a couple of halls in the dorm in search of the elusive toilet.  No potty.  A few minutes later, although situated in central Pennsylvania, we were all outside watching the launch of a shuttle.  The shuttle was so close, it lifted us off our feet and soared us through the air.  I grasped the gutter of our dorm on my way down and hand over hand, peeked in each window looking for a bathroom.  I finally came to my own room, popped through the window and admitted to Jen and the other two women, that I desperately needed to do my thing.  One of the women smiled sweetly at me, pulled out a center drawer from a bureau, and pointed to a pad lining the drawer.  She indicated that that was indeed was the facilities.  After sitting awkwardly on the little pad, feet dangling over the edge of the drawer, it because obvious that I would be unable to perform with an audience.   I woke up . . . padded off to the porcelain goddess, did my thing and crawled back into bed . . .  to sleep soundly for the rest of the night.

Now the inference being . . .  if one does not awaken from said dreams . . . then perhaps one's bed suffers an unwanted baptism of a different sort.

So why am I even posting about this you ask.  Because Joanie and I giggle through our morning walks regaling ourselves with our bizarre and wondrous dreams.  And these, garner the most giggles.  Just paying it forward.