Santa Booby

I swear, I will write about other things than my adventures with my CPAP machine. It’s just so fascinating right now…at least to me.

Remember when I said I hoped to have lots of weird dreams fuelled by good sleep? Well, that didn’t take long. Last night’s session with Santa Claus went the best it ever has. It went so well that dear old Pinocchio, my nickname for the app that tracks my progress, gave me a 100 percent score and sent me an email that said “Congratulations! You’ve started your therapy!” Hahahahaha! I started it last week, but my results were so bad that I could have, and did, fool Pinocchio.

I also had a series of crazy dreams and I thought I would write them down. In the first dream, I found myself in a Service Ontario office with my whole family. The lines were all snaky and I couldn’t figure out which way I was supposed to go, so I kept checking in with my family. This didn’t sit right with someone else in the line. She told me off for making too much noise, at which point, I lipped her off and told her to mind her own business. Then, my sister said to me, “Did you seriously come in here without a shirt on?” At which point, I was appalled to find myself flashing my boobs at everyone. I did have a shirt, but somehow, it had come off in my coat. I don’t know how this happens, but this is dreamland. So I spent the rest of the dream frantically trying to get my shirt back on, and realizing that there was no reason for me to be in Service Ontario because all my ID is up to date. I also think a badly-behaved service dog wandered in and started jumping on everyone, but I’m not sure.

The next dream consisted of our whole family being home for Christmas, including one nephew who had RSV. We spent forever trying to keep our distance and worrying about him giving it to my folks. Then we were watching Star Wars, and my brother kept rewinding to see stuff again, and my dad got mad at him and said we should just watch the movie. My dad doesn’t care about Star Wars and usually falls asleep in movies. What the heck?

Then the dream morphed, and I was trying to go to my book club, but they were suddenly living near my parents. My dad and brother were driving me to book club, and stopped off at some computer store and I think my brother was trying to buy my brother-in-law a new laptop bag. But he somehow got tricked and ended up bringing him a used one, and a worse one than the one he had in the first place. Not only that, but it had the previous owner’s stuff in it. There was some fruit and a sandwich. So, my brother was sitting there, trying to get rid of the garbage and hope my brother-in-law didn’t notice.

Then Dad drove me to book club, and then came in with me! He just sat in the corner, and grumbled about the kind of friends I had. I think one of my friends was trying to do some kind of massage to us, and another one’s guide dog was trying to steal crumbs off the floor. And then it just ended.

This all happened in one night. Wow! I must be sleeping deep.

I’ve also done my first dopy CPAP-related things. I wondered how long it would be before I would stumble off to bed and do something stupid when putting the mask on. Well, it was Tuesday night. I fell asleep on the couch, and got up and took myself to bed. I got out of my clothes and tried to get into bed and put the mask on. But I tried to make some sort of unholy alliance between my mask and head gear, and my bra! There I sat, confusedly staring at the bra, wondering where the hose hookup was. I even managed to think, “Well I’m glad someone from the machine company is coming over tomorrow because I think I broke my mask!” Then I thought “I’m completely stumped. I’ll go to the bathroom, come back, and try again.” When I came back and saw what I was doing, I laughed. It went a lot better when I wasn’t trying to hook mask to bra.

Last night, I don’t know what happened, but I zonked out on the couch again. When I got up, I realized I hadn’t filled up the distilled water chamber and said to Steve, “I just need to get that stuff for Peter.” Peter? I think that was a mutation of pail and water. But in any case, I accidentally named the water reservoir thing. Oh my.

If this is any indication, the dreams tag is going to balloon in size, and Steve’s going to have so much that he can use to make fun of me that we won’t need a Sleep Talkin’ series. Good times, good times ahead!

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1 Comment

  1. I definitely won’t be hurting for material, especially if you keep leaving out things like the other part of that Peter story. You know, the one where you woke up, talked to me like a normal person for a second and then said “where is it?!” and frantically started searching the couch.

    Me: “Looking for your phone?”
    Carin: “No. It’s something else that’s lost.”
    Me: “What is it? Can I help?”
    Carin: “I’m looking for a phone.”
    Me: “But you just said you weren’t.”
    Carin: “Not the iPhone. In my dream there was a phone, and now I can’t find it. I know it has to be under here somewhere.” *Continues frisking the couch*
    Me: “Maybe you left it behind the real an dream wall.”
    Carin: “I don’t know.” *Looks a little bit more*

    Eventually she gave up on that and started wandering around the house trying to focus and do real tasks. It was a struggle. That’s when Peter happened.

    If I had to describe it, imagine somebody coming out from being put under, but instead of the doctors giving her recovery time to clear the fog, they just said “alright, you’re awake, you can go.” I was half expecting to need a search party later on when she did her nightly building stairs.

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