It was a strange weekend.
Don’t get me wrong, it was also a weekend filled with complete and total awesome. There was checking out the newly turned over Triple Crown, hearing vinyl for the first time in ages, and FINALLY stepping into Martuni’s, which has vaulted to possibly my favorite bar in SF. I want a permanent place in a dark corner with Daniel, where we can drink divine beverages and be catty together.
But later that evening, after a tipsy meal at Sauce and a cab ride home*, I was troubled with strange dreams. I don’t remember a thing, but according to Trevor, I was mumbling about “getting all the sand off me.” I awoke drenched in sweat, and without even thinking, got in the shower. It wasn’t until I was standing under the water that I realized I had no idea what I was doing there, or what time it was, or anything. I dried off, put on pajamas, and got back in bed. It was three in the morning. My only response with regards to the events was “it made sense at the time.”
And off to Stockton/Sacramento I went. There are certain people I just don’t see as often as I’d like, and sometimes organizing semi-special events is warranted. So I shook my ass with two of my favorite people: Tina and Katy (and Katy’s awesome friend Rob). I went to two places I’d never been, the Mercantile and Badlands (Sac), and I’m already trying to figure out a time to go back. Which brings up an interesting question: why do I have to drive 100+ miles to go dancing? Why don’t I ever go dancing here, in the city? I have no idea.
Alas, the joy of the weekend was soured by this morning. It’s my own fault; if I hadn’t hit snooze, I wouldn’t have had this dream. But Trevor and I were supposed to get married, but he kept finding excuse after excuse about why we couldn’t do it. First it was because it was raining, and then because the tide was too high**. Eventually it came down to him playing on a laptop while I tried to talk to him about it. He was completely disinterested, and that’s when I realized it wasn’t happening and I had to leave. I woke up more than a little upset. Luckily Trevor was actually there to calm me down. But this is the second dream I’ve had about weddings in the last two weeks (though the other wasn’t mine), and the second dream I’ve had about Trevor and I breaking up in the last week.
I’ve read a lot about dreams. Some think it’s our brains working things out, some think it’s just recycling information, some think it has no bearing on our actual lives at all. I’m not sure what I think. All I know is that my dream brain wants to get married and be clean doing it.
* I officially love cabs now. I used to hate them. I was WRONG.
** When we discussed this later, it came to light that neither of us has any interest in getting married outside.