Sweet Dreams Are NOT Made Of These! (Who Are You To Disagree?)

One week has already trickled past since my triumphant return from the great Colorado Bloggy Sistah Expedition of 2007. I didn't mention it before-hand while writing up all the details of our weekend hootenanny, but I experienced a strangely vivid dream about traveling to Colorado an entire week before Annie and Carrie called to invite me. Yes, I really did. I woke up snickering and thinking, "That's crazy. I never go anywhere, let alone dropping all my responsibilities to jet off to a state I've never been to, to meet women I've never met before." Eerily enough, true to the consistently pre-cognitive nature of my night time visions, things materialized in real life as they had unfolded in the dream.

Stephenie Meyer, author of the phenomenal Twilight Trilogy, wrote the first book based solely on a dream she had. Encouraged, I thought, "If only I could just concentrate and remember the stuff in my dreams with more detail, then maybe I can sell a lot of books and make a lot of money too."
It's disturbing, but I can't seem to stop dreaming about all my new blog friends turned real life friends. It's starting to creep me out. For instance, last night I dreamed of the whole lot of us taking a hay ride, pulled by a tractor, through a small town. It stopped at a little shopping mall and we all piled out to go inside. I noticed the three screen movie theater immediately and noted that the marquee showed movies entitled 'Infidel 1,' Infidel 2', and 'Infidel 3.' I excitedly remarked to NCS that I didn't know there was an Infidel movie series. Then Annie, NCS, and I wandered into a shop that specialized in Mexican candies and treats, and one whole wall exhibited an astonishingly colossal assortment of cotton candy flavors. We walked over and saw they had Golden Turkey Cotton Candy, which was sold out, and Carrot Cotton Candy. I'm assuming that the Carrot Cotton Candy tasted like a vegetable and not, in fact, like Carrot Jello. Earlier in the week, I dreamt of Carrie and the gang all gathered together at the hotel when a suspicious looking fellow with a large metal hook for a hand checked in. Later that night, I nervously asked Carrie if that was such a good idea to let him stay there and she erupted with a mischievous chuckle as she told me that she switched his hook hand for a harmless plastic hanger. Relieved, I went to sleep, only to wake up to blood-curdling screams as the man desperately tried to make Carrie part of his hook-handed urban legend, but was instead slashing the air with his new plastic hanger appendage in futile frustration.

It scared the crap out of me. My kids broke out laughing when I told them about it. My kids are weird.So there you have it. What say you? Do you think I can transform stomach-churning Cotton Candy flavors and tales of plastic hanger-handed serial killers into a best-selling literary series? Can I count on your support?