I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down

I've had the weirdest dreams since I arrived in Camden.  Since the house's foundation is so old, I mean 1840 old, it vibrates a little when big trucks go by in the middle of the night.  I haven't noticed it during the day, which I'm attributing to the fact that the truckers are probably more inclined to obey the speed limit when there's other traffic on the road. But when I'm in that weird phase between sleep and waking, these tremors take over my dreams. For the first 5 or so mornings we were here, I awoke with a start thinking the house was blowing down.  Seriously, freaking out jumping out of bed, as if I could somehow prevent this catastrophe by running into the bathroom.  Luckily, I haven't had one of those dreams for a few days now.

But as far as weird dreams go, last night takes the cake. In fact, given what I dreamt about last night, I think I would trade in my new dream for the old one.  Here's what happened: we were digging up old floorboards as part of the renovation and I uncovered half of the head of a, well, obviously dead person.  So disturbing.  In fact, disturbing enough that I debated whether or not to write about it this morning.  But, since writing about sanding day after day gets a little old for me (and I'm sure you too) I figured I'd give it a go.  In my dream I didn't know what to do about this head, whether we should just cover it back up and pretend it wasn't there, or throw it away.  It's funny how in dreams you can think weird things are totally plausible.  Like pretending a dead head isn't buried under your floor.

I blame this dream on three things.  1) The ridiculous amount of renovation we're doing that is stressing me out just a teensy bit.  2) The fact that, even though I'm not 8 years old anymore, I'm still afraid of ghosts in this house. I know this is absurd. 3) Dan has been making me (yes twisting my arm, forcing me) to watch Prison Break (I quasi blame you too, Lauren) every night.  We just watched the episode where creepy Teddy gets his hand re-attached.  So, gross dead body parts have been on my mind.

The weirdest (okay, maybe not weirdest) part about this dream is that I dreamt it in blog.  Is it possible to dream in blog? Like you'd dream in a foreign language if you lived in the country long enough? Because, I literally narrated the dream like I would write on this blog.  "And then, we lifted up the floorboards, and there was this thing...this..."  I heard the whole story going through my head.  Does that mean I'm a real blogger now? I hope not.  If narrating creepy dreams makes me a real blogger, I'd rather be a fake one.