The last couple of nights I've had some truly worthless dreams. In one, I was living in some crappy run-down house with a guy I dated a long time ago (where the hell he came from in my dream is anyone's guess!). Our house backed onto an alley and was only about 10 feet from the next house on either side. Dirt yard, no grass (it was in Tucson), concrete everywhere--it was really miserable. So just the setting of the dream already sucked. Then the plot of the dream pretty much revolved around his friends letting themselves into our house without knocking (and without us knowing they were coming) and then smoking inside the house, and me getting mad at them. Wheeee. Yeah, those are the things dreams are made of.

At least there was some emotion, though. Last night I had a dream that was, in its entirety, just me trying to scrape a bunch of mashed potatoes out of a five-pound plastic bucket.

What a waste! I could have had one of those awesome flying dreams, or a sex dream, or one of the dreams where I'm doing something really cool that I can't actually do, like figure skating really well... but no, my imagination wasted the time on that crap. *sigh*