Bad Dreams & Concussions

So has anyone ever had a few nights of what seems to be a never-ending series of bad dreams?

The past few nights, my subconscious has been kicking my ass late at night, stirring up those sleep-induced images of anything horrible that might possibly be on my mind.

I had one a few nights ago, where my dog escaped through an open window as I was walking to catch my bus to work. Now please understand my apprehension when it comes to my dog.. not only is she likely to be the only form of a 'child' that I'll ever have, but up until 2 months ago was a little country bumpkin with no understanding of such things as 'traffic', 'city transit buses' and 'streets'. She's just not street smart! Half of it might be attributed to her long term ignorance on the subject, and the other half may be attributed to her breed. She is, after all, a Siberian Husky, one of those breeds that when, after hopping the 6 foot gate, happily runs down the CENTRE of the street, ignoring garbage cans like a normal dog, chases the neighbourhood cats, and then comes home 3 hours later, tongue happily lolling out of face. "See Mom, I'm a big girl, I can walk MYSELF!".

I admit, I'm a little anal when it comes to the dog. Half the time one of the guys gets a phone call at 6 when I figure they're home.. something about the dog, and where is she, and did she get out, and does she have water?

I have the best luck. I swear. After just recovering from the flu (or was that the bubonic plague?), I had enough energy to take her for a walk. We're happily strolling down the sidewalk on a beautiful day (yesterday) when suddenly I realize that my head, err now my shoulders and finally, oof, my tailbone are on the ground. Precisely in that order.. if you can ever help it I highly recommend NOT falling on your head first. I get up, see stars, glance over at the people going into the Kingdom Hall for Jehovah's Witnesses (BASTARDS.. you think nothing of knocking on my door in the middle of a really good movie to hand me some brochures and to try to pawn off your crackpot 'religion', but feign interest and sympathy when my head connects with a sidewalk? Noooooo. I hate your religion. :( ), and slowly get up. This process is impeded by Summer firmly planting her front paws on my chest.

I waver to my feet, try to touch the pretty stars and let my dog pull me towards home.

Now I'm not blaming my entire dreamscape on a bonked head or the sidewalk or the idiot who's not sure how to shovel said sidewalk, but I do think it's contributing!