Many believe that every dream has some meaning. Whether its a literal interpretation where the fear or event in your dreams is a fear or event happening in your real life at the time, or there’s some deep meaning behind all of the weird and unlikely details. Most of the time my dreams make NO sense whatsoever. I wake up thinking I’m crazy and usually my family and friends agree.
A couple of months ago I had a dream that seemed so real when I woke up, and though the details were plausible, they were far from reality. I also woke up thinking “No one will ever know I had this dream… ever.” Why? Well, because it was when I was very very new to blogging, and the lead in my dream was none other than our favorite mommy blogger, Blair. If anyone ever knew about this dream, any question they had that I was a stalker would probably be confirmed, and I feared that the world (and more importantly, Blair) would think I was off my rocker.
Well, one day I got brave, and in an email chain with Blair I flat out asked her if she would mind if I wrote about it, and that most likely, it would involve pictures. And you know what? She neither thought I was a stalker, nor crazy. So, since she has so kindly obliged and said she’s up for a good laugh (hopefully with me, not at me) I figured it wouldn’t hurt to let you all (or y’all, if we’re speaking in Blair terms here) in on my crazy dreams. Feel free to interpret, though I’m hoping it’s just a crazy dream and not some super crush that will never be realized since she’s so madly in love with her awesome husband anyway.
So, without further ado, hopefully this will not disappoint:
So, I had this dream. This crazy dream where I was one of the lucky bloggers that Blair invited down to her house to show her southern hospitality to some of her blogging friends. I can’t remember who was there anymore, but there were two others invited, most likely Mandy from Harper’s Happenings and “Momma” from Live, Laugh, Pull Your Hair Out, since those are two of my obsessions favorites that I found through Blair’s blog. Anyhoo, we arrived and Blair greeted us in her kitchen with tea (why she didn’t meet us at the front door, I have no clue, apparently I knew enough to go through the front door and walk through like I owned the place). Her house was decorated in what seemed like thousands of fake, plastic flowers, in AWFUL vases. Not glass vases, no. Ceramic ones that look like water jugs. The ones that have flowers painted on them. Not my taste, but,okay.
Her kitchen opened right into the dining room, and as I turned around to get the tour, I realized her dining room did not contain a table… Instead, up against the wall was her mother’s bed, covered with the most awful flowered bedspread, with a side table that contained more fake, plastic flowers. Now, Blair speaks of “the momma” often, and though I didn’t realize her mom lived with them, I didn’t question it. I actually thought it was great! “Another set of hands!” I thought. Not at all weird that she lived in the dining room.
As we sipped on our tea and ate some shortbread cookies, Blair tells us how fun she thought it would be if we all went out to Walmart for the afternoon. I kid you not, we were all so excited, you’d think she just announced we were having a tropical getaway sans babies for a week. But, before we could go, Blair needed to put on her “going out” hair. Okay, this is understandable. Before us girls leave the house, we like to make sure we’re presentable. (When I say “us girls” I mean every other girl but me… I’m usually in jammies and haven’t showered, but I digress) She came back down from primping and the results were amazing. Truly fit for Walmart. Because….
It looked something like this:
Except the long part was bigger and curlier. And the best part is… it didn’t even phase me. Because she’s southern, y’all. And of course that makes a feathered mullet acceptable. Of course!
1.) I do not think all southern people have mullets and put fake awful flowers in their homes.
2.) I know Blair’s going out hair is not a mullet… she’s posted many a picture of herself on fancy occasions.
3.) my photoshop skills aren’t great when I’m trying to hide the fact that I’m photoshopping and blogging at work
4.) I swear, I am not crazy.