The night before last I dreamed about arresting vampires and then going to visit them in jail.
Now what kind of weirdness could be going on in my waking life to stimulate those images out of my unconscious I ask you?!
I'm a bit bashful to admit that it's most likely the combination of a steady diet of True Blood (the show, not the actual microwaved beverage) and the lead up to my first prison visit yesterday. Blend that up in the sur-reality that is Baghdad and I think you've got a recipe for some truly bizarre experiences. Even if it's all in my head.
Since most of you probably don't care to hear/read my reflective analysis of the character development and plot lines of True Blood, perhaps I'll write just a bit more about the prison visit side of this twisted cocktail that was my dream. (Although now that I've started, I'm having trouble shutting down the thoughts about Sookie and Bon Temps and all that ....) So anyway, yeah, I got to go see a guy who may or may not have done some bad things. I won't say any more about him, but the visit itself was..... memorable.
After too long stuck in traffic in our too hot body armor, we finally arrived at the venue long after I had had to go to the bathroom too bad. Luckily one of the security guys took pity on me and texted ahead to make sure I could be ushered straight into a potty. I sheepishly asked if there was any chance they had mapped pit stops along the way. That gave everyone a good laugh.
So we showed up, and I'm funneled straight into the police chief's personal rest room. It's great because it's right behind his desk. So I get to come in, walk behind his desk, which, after standing to greet me, he sits back down at, and close the door to use his little squat-hole in the floor. And then I get to come back out to more fully meet him and begin our formal meeting all dignified-like. Well something like that.
But it gets better after my bladder is empty. I can think straight again and I forget that I'm the only woman around. For, like, miles. The police chief is very amiable. I understand a good part of what he's saying, but not near enough to have a coherent conversation. Unfortunately, many of his colleagues are not as friendly, nor as helpful. But we power through, and eventually we get the job done and get back to base.
I swear as we pulled back into the IZ (the "green zone") the temperature dropped like 20 degrees. You never think you'll be as happy to see the same four walls as you really are, after you've been away from them. All is well. Job done. Reports in.
Dreams back to normal last night. We'll see if further detox is needed or if I might get a little shot of True Blood here this evening before it gets too late....
Now what kind of weirdness could be going on in my waking life to stimulate those images out of my unconscious I ask you?!
I'm a bit bashful to admit that it's most likely the combination of a steady diet of True Blood (the show, not the actual microwaved beverage) and the lead up to my first prison visit yesterday. Blend that up in the sur-reality that is Baghdad and I think you've got a recipe for some truly bizarre experiences. Even if it's all in my head.
Since most of you probably don't care to hear/read my reflective analysis of the character development and plot lines of True Blood, perhaps I'll write just a bit more about the prison visit side of this twisted cocktail that was my dream. (Although now that I've started, I'm having trouble shutting down the thoughts about Sookie and Bon Temps and all that ....) So anyway, yeah, I got to go see a guy who may or may not have done some bad things. I won't say any more about him, but the visit itself was..... memorable.
After too long stuck in traffic in our too hot body armor, we finally arrived at the venue long after I had had to go to the bathroom too bad. Luckily one of the security guys took pity on me and texted ahead to make sure I could be ushered straight into a potty. I sheepishly asked if there was any chance they had mapped pit stops along the way. That gave everyone a good laugh.
So we showed up, and I'm funneled straight into the police chief's personal rest room. It's great because it's right behind his desk. So I get to come in, walk behind his desk, which, after standing to greet me, he sits back down at, and close the door to use his little squat-hole in the floor. And then I get to come back out to more fully meet him and begin our formal meeting all dignified-like. Well something like that.
But it gets better after my bladder is empty. I can think straight again and I forget that I'm the only woman around. For, like, miles. The police chief is very amiable. I understand a good part of what he's saying, but not near enough to have a coherent conversation. Unfortunately, many of his colleagues are not as friendly, nor as helpful. But we power through, and eventually we get the job done and get back to base.
I swear as we pulled back into the IZ (the "green zone") the temperature dropped like 20 degrees. You never think you'll be as happy to see the same four walls as you really are, after you've been away from them. All is well. Job done. Reports in.
Dreams back to normal last night. We'll see if further detox is needed or if I might get a little shot of True Blood here this evening before it gets too late....
