Here's another crazy dream with vivid detail, so real to me that I woke up angry at Hubby.
I dreamed Katydid, Rozmo, and I were walking to my home from the town where UGA is located. Specifically, we were walking home from the high school where I used to teach, a distance of about 23 miles. We weren't at all dismayed by the distance we were walking, and we weren't tired at all. We were laughing and having a grand old time.
We were all laden with ... stuff. I don't know what we were carrying or why, but I was carrying my stuff in a white plastic kitchen-sized trash can.
Oh, and we had Gus with us. No collar or leash, but Gus was with us.
We had made it to about 6 or 7 miles from my house, and I realized that it was going to be a problem walking through town with Gus due to all the traffic. No matter that we had already walked almost 20 miles on the Atlanta Highway. I decided we needed to call Hubby to come get us. I was going to tell him to be sure and drive my SUV, since there were so many of us.
I didn't have my cell phone, because I had had to leave it somewhere to be ... repaired? ... charged? Anyway, I had to use Katydid's cell phone. And it was a good thing she had Hubby's number in her phone, because I had no idea what his number was.
I called him, and when I told him I needed him to come get us, he said, "You should have made better plans before you got all that crap. I'm laid up here on the couch sick."
I have no idea how he knew we had "crap" with us. I said, "Never mind, we'll make other arrangements," and I hung up on him.
I can picture the exact location where we were on the Atlanta Highway. There was an old abandoned business there named "Dunham's." There is no such business on that highway, abandoned or otherwise, and the only Dunham I know of is Jeff, the comedian.
Naturally Hubby called back, and I was (rightfully) hateful. I said, "To think of all the times I've hauled your drunk ass places when I didn't feel like it." (Don't tell Hubby, but I think I had him confused in my dream with my ex. He would be offended that I had confused him with that jerk.)
Then in the phone conversation Hubby started talking like Carl from Slingblade, and I told him that was getting pretty damn old. (If you've never seen the movie, or even if you have, please forgive us for finding the movie so hilarious. It isn't supposed to be a comedy.) At least I know where THAT part of the dream came from. Hubby and his golfing buddies have started talking like Carl ALL. THE. TIME. Katydid and I had the distinct privilege of listening to that for approximately eight hours last weekend, four on the way to Tuscaloosa and four on the way back. In my dream I had the nerve to tell him it was getting old. Not so much in real life.
I woke up SO ANGRY, and I never did find out if Hubby intended to come get us or not.