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Last night I had a glass of wine and some dark chocolate right before bed. Also, yesterday I perused stuff on my cat during a break at work. Note to self: maybe don't combine these types of activities on a day you'll be needing to rouse yourself at 5:00 a.m. the next morning to drag yourself to the gym and meet your archenemy trainer.

I dreamt that I walked sleepily out of my bedroom into the living room where the television was turned on to a new show featuring a group of people with whom I was very familiar in the dream, but now have no idea who they represent in my subconscious (and while I actually learned how to do old school dream analysis in college, I simply don't have the time or inclination). More importantly, there was some unknown worker in a jumpsuit style uniform standing in front of my television, watching. He looked at me when I came in like he expected some response - alarm or confusion - but I was so engrossed in the show that I just gave him a slight nod and he left the room after a minute or two. Everything was moving in slow motion, but mainly my brain, and after he left, I realized two things: 1.) I really should have been alarmed or confused when I saw him in my living room, and 2.) he had apparently just vandalized my house by spray painting Stuff! in black all over the walls and ceiling, and for good measure, also my arm.

The next part of the dream was fuzzy. Somehow, in the unexplained dream way, I learned through an assumed but now unremembered conversation with John that he was surprising me and had entered us into some competition for a reality show that I loved (side note: only in my dreams would I ever be hooked on any reality show), called Stuff In Your House! and we actually wanted these people to vandalize our home because of the hilarity that would ensue on the nationally-broadcast show in several weeks. Besides, it would be fine: part of the show included their return to restore our home to its original condition. In the dream, I was very relieved, but the 3rd party portion of me that was watching myself have this dream was thinking, HUH?!?

I woke from this nonsense to John saying, "it's 2:45! See? I told you they've been getting up at this time! What is the DEAL?" and shuffling up the stairs to put Quinn back in his bed. I fell back to sleep and dreamt two horrible bug-related dreams that I'd rather not record for fear that they'll become recurring. We all know I have a bug phobia, let's just leave it at that. Besides, it was a short dream because I woke again to the sound of Quinn's music over Bryce's monitor, of which I knew the hated meaning even in my foggy state: Quinn was up again, and had opened his door and walked at minimum into Bryce's room, and more likely was on his way down to ours, and would momentarily be standing in our doorway, paci in mouth, blankie in hand, staring at us with that half-creepy half-pitiful stare that I've only ever witnessed from my kids in the middle of the night.

I started to get out of bed, but when I looked down, I saw a kid curled up on the floor, sound asleep. I was confused and half-asleep, and I am admitting openly that I actually didn't know which kid it was. (In my defense, his head was covered with a blanket.) Since I was hearing Quinn's music and hadn't heard a peep from Bryce, I used the strongest powers of deduction I could muster and assumed it was Quinn. I bent over to pick him up, lifted the blanket from his head, and the hair color was all wrong. I actually jumped back a little. (In my defense... I have no defense. I am a freak.) This meant BOTH kids were up at 3:00 a.m., and had been wandering around the house, the house that in my sleep-imprisoned brain I was still unsure whether or not a Stuff In Your House! employee had recently vandalized. I lifted Bryce's sleeping, lanky body and carried him up the stairs to his bed (hello, recently-performed lunges and burning, burning thighs). Then, since I knew Quinn was wandering around somewhere, I went on a stumbly search, and found him, standing on a stool in the dark bathroom and creepily staring at himself in the mirror. He said he wanted water and was holding the cup, but he was just standing there, in the dark. I got him a drink and put him back to bed, but the whole thing was a little too eerily preternatural, which meant that when I was finally able to fall back asleep, it was only for long enough to dream that the Stuff In Your House! people screwed us and never repaired what they'd destroyed, so John had to improvise and did so by painting murals everywhere, using broken plates coming out of the wall to create some sort of crazy 3-D effect.

***Updated to add that after John read this post, he e-mailed me with this:

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