Farther and Further from Sanity

It was a variation of a dream I have on somewhat regular occasion, where I’m running a little late for something, and super random weird shit keeps happening that causes me to get farther and farther behind schedule.  Which leads to me becoming more and more stressed out.
My deep in REM self always becomes super agitated because even though the things causing me to fall further behind schedule are at least somewhat beyond my control, I feel completely responsible.  Like I have unquestionably dropped the ball and deserve zero grace or redemption.
And yet, there’s another part of me that’s like, “Whoa there, back the em effing train up.  My intentions were good. No part of me intended to keep falling further and further behind, but shit keeps happening and I don’t know how to fix it and the hole keeps getting deeper and deeper and deeper and I don’t know how to fix it, and now all hell has broken loose, and can SOMEBODY PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO WAKE UP FROM THIS DREAM because I’m certain there is no way this is real life, because ultimately nothing here makes any damn sense, which means I DON’T KNOW HOW TO FIX IT. And then I wake up and I am hard core shook.
The particular iteration which preceded the above text message had to do with me needing to get a pair of white pants for my daughter, who had a role in the school musical.  Did I mention nothing in these dreams ever fully makes sense? I mean, my kid was in a musical once, but white pants???
I entered in a store and quickly found a pair of pants, which I thought were priced at $40.  I wasn’t happy about paying so much for a pair of pants she’d never use again, but I was in a rush, so I took them to the cashier.  They rang up at $120, don’t ask me why (because nothing in these dreams makes sense, that’s why). When I told her I wouldn’t be buying the pants at that price, she said, “Hold on, let me go call the manufacturer.  Sometimes they’ll sell them for cheaper.”
This is a retail experience I’ve had exactly zero times and I was hella confused.  And it led to hours of waiting, and me trying to tell everyone involved (the clerk and who else??  I don’t even know) it didn’t matter. That I’d move on to a different store and find the pants at a more reasonable price. That I didn’t have time to wait to hear from the manufacturer. That I simply needed to move on and figure out how to get the damn pants to my daughter. And yet, I somehow ended up trapped, waiting for this clerk to contact the manufacturer.
Then I somehow found myself in a car, where the person driving kept telling me she just needed to make a quick stop.  I became more agitated, because I really needed to get back to the store and find out if the clerk heard back from the manufacturer.  I had no idea who I was with, or how or why I got into a car. Or why I was still dealing with a clerk calling a manufacturer about giving me a better price on a pair of pants, when I told her I’d be getting pants somewhere else. I begged the driver to simply get me back to the store, but she acted as if I’d said nothing and kept driving to her ‘quick stop’.  It became painfully apparent the ‘quick stop’ would be at least half an hour away. Farther and farther behind. More and more stressed. None of this making any sense. Adding: Is my voice broken? Why do I feel like no one is listening to me? I told the clerk I don’t want the damn pants. Why was the driver ignoring my pleas to get me back to the store? WHY???

Somewhere in the sequence of events, I became aware I’d mistaken the show times, and of the three performances scheduled on this particular day, I’d already missed the first two. Completely dropping the ball and leaving my kid high and dry with no white pants.  
Shit just kept getting weirder and weirder.  And I kept getting more and more freaked out.  And then there was a scene where my husband, who is about two weeks into a four week business trip finally came home, and told me he’d be leaving the next day for another two weeks.  At which point I completely lost my shit, and knew I was completely losing my shit; yet really really wanted to be able to get said shit together and be normal and sane.
But I couldn’t.  I turned into a stark raving lunatic.  I lost all control of my emotions. I kept trying to tell myself to simply be calm and take some deep breaths and that we could figure all of this out, even though nothing was making sense.

But I couldn’t stop yelling at everyone around me.

They all started exchanging glances so as to nonverbally communicate: What the hell is up with this crazy bitch?? I kept trying to explain to them why I’d gone bananas, but of course I couldn’t, because none of it made any damn sense.

Have I mentioned nothing in these dreams ever really makes sense??!!

This is totally normal, right?  Like, everybody has had this dream, no? Maybe??
Probably not.  I get that. I’m super extra mental, which probably plays more than a small part in me having these traumatic experiences while in the midst of what is otherwise one of my favorite activities:  SLEEP.
Gee.  I wonder what’s going on in my psyche?  For what it’s worth, I also frequently wonder if I’m using the term ‘psyche’ correctly.  
Anyhoo.  There are some things I feel it’s safe to say.


My husband’s been gone since May 26 and won’t be home until June 21st.  And actually he won’t even be home then. He’ll be flying to Green Bay and meeting us in Appleton, Wisconsin for Elise’s soccer tournament.  It would seem I’m ready for him to come home. It would also seem he shouldn’t mention future trips anytime soon.


There are many things I’m feeling powerless over these days. Travel schedules, how the world treats those I love, choices my kids are making, soccer schedules, global warming, children in cages, the fact that my dog tore a gutter off the house in order to murder a ground squirrel, and the god forsaken biting gnat epidemic currently hitting Minnesota.  Seriously, those little bastards are THE WORST.

And yet, like in the dream, I feel I should have power over these things, like I’m responsible.  If I’d raised my kids better, their choices would be falling in line and they’d have nicer friends.  If I were nicer to my husband, he’d travel less, if I’d quit eating so many damn cheeseburgers I could lessen my carbon footprint, if I’d have been paying better attention to the dog the gutter would still be attached to the house, if I’d done some door knocking or phone calling in 2016 perhaps Tsar Cheetoh Tiny Hands wouldn’t have become the figurehead of the USA; and for Pete’s sake, no one held a gun to my head when I signed my kid up for soccer.  I’m not omnipotent, but Lord knows I’ve made some choices along the way.

This is the point in a post where a normal blogger wraps things up or tells why they’ve decided to write.

I’m not normal, we’ve established that. I have no conclusion. No reason for sharing this other than further self deprecation, and further evidence I’m completely and totally losing my mind.

The only thing I’ve learned by spewing this tripe is that Farther v. Further is kinda tricky. So I just used ’em interchangeably. Because consistency is for sane folks. Same goes for line spacing in WordPress.

Farther v Further citation