I told Leif Ericson that I don't quite know what to make of him. (His response: "That makes sense, since you don't know me that well. But feel free to ask anything." Hmm, touché, Leif.) Case in point:
Following date #4, Leif reported that he spent all night last night dreaming about me. Some of the dreams were good, some were bad, but he could only remember one enough to tell me about it: Someone had died, a distant aunt or uncle (unclear if it was his or mine). We were headed to the funeral. He felt stressed and took a Xanax, and I got upset with him. In an attempt to placate me, he went out and bought me a sticky bun and coffee.
It seems that Leif's subconscious has skipped the courting and honeymoon phases and gone straight to the nagging wife/henpecked husband phase. I'm not sure if I should be offended that I'm nagging him in his dreams or take it as a positive sign that he knows that the way to placate me is with a sticky bun.
"How about me? What did I do in your dreams?" he queried.
"You weren't in my dreams," I said, feeling vaguely guilty.
I guess my subconscious isn't as ready to commit as his.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
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