I’m not going to write about the impeachment acquittal right now. It’s Valentine’s Day and Sunday and I’m just not in the mood. I’m not the least bit surprised by the outcome… and yes, I am disgusted, but I don’t want to dwell on it. Instead, I want to write about another one of my bizarro dreams.

TMI– I am in the midst of my period right now. That means I had a rather restless night. I got up probably half a dozen times to use the bathroom, which is pretty much my custom when Aunt Flow is making her presence known. The sad thing is, we had nice clean sheets. I usually sleep very well when the sheets are crisp and clean. Not so much last night.

Anyway, in the wee hours of the morning, I had a weird dream. I don’t remember everything about it. What I do remember was that I was in an airport. It seemed kind of like the Stuttgart Airport, only it was a lot more expanded than I know it is at the moment. Also, there was a lot of wood paneling everywhere… and soft lighting. That is not like the Stuttgart Airport at all.

I dreamt there was a hotel at the airport. I had made arrangements to stay there. I got off the plane, tired and cranky, but then somehow got turned around and couldn’t find my bags. Bill and I also weren’t together. He was coming on a different flight later. So I went searching for my bags and was told they were in some room. I think the room was called the Oracle Room– a brown haired, brown eyed bearded man, pushing a push broom, told me. The guy was friendly, but kind of no nonsense.

So I got my bags and checked into my hotel room. Later, I went out for awhile, and when I came back, there was a strange woman about to open the door, as if she had also been assigned room 40. I told her that was my room. She argued with me, but then left with a resigned sigh when she noticed all of my baggage already there.

It was about time for Bill to arrive, so I went searching for him. I finally found him and we ended up on some kind of weird transport vehicle on the tarmac. It was kind of like a motorcycle, only we had no helmets. The thing ran on its own power, so we were horrified as it careened under a jet and propelled into a barrier. Bill’s legs were crushed. He was screaming. I was screaming. No one would help us.

Bill and I finally somehow got into the airport. Once again, I had to go looking for his bags, which weren’t in the usual baggage claim area. I stopped some guy who looked like he worked at the airport. He had scraggly hair and was a bit overweight, wearing a dirty white tuxedo. I asked him where to find the bags and he laughed at me and walked away. Then I saw the guy pushing the broom, who explained that the bags were moved, again to the Oracle Room.

Suddenly, the airport was full of people. No one wore a face mask, including me. And I distinctly remember thinking that I was going to get COVID-19 and probably die of it. I got the bags and, at about that time, woke up.

I seem to make a habit out of having weird dreams on Valentine’s Day. According to my Facebook memories, this was the one I had last year…

I had a very vivid dream this morning involving Nicole… I went to her house and there was a lot of gymnastics equipment set up. She was having a birthday party for some kids. All of the kids were on the autism spectrum. She came out with a cake made entirely out of unusually flavored Pop Tarts. She told me which ones I could take, since a few were especially for certain kids who liked certain flavors. I remember one special Pop Tart was mint!

Nicole is an old neighbor of mine and a friend. She’s a wonderful mom and a very good friend to a lot of people… one of those folks who is blessed with many allies because she is such a good person. She’s one of the few neighbors I’ve had and have actually really missed over the years. When I posted about that dream last year, she clarified that making a Pop Tart cake would make her the coolest mom on the block… and that I would be welcome to take any Pop Tart I wanted. Where the Pop Tart reference comes from, I will never know. I haven’t had one of those in ages.

Well… we usually do something special for Valentine’s Day. In the past, we’ve gone to a beer spa in the Czech Republic and we’ve gone to France a couple of times. In fact, we went to France in 2019 and 2020, mainly because Valentine’s Day coincided with President’s Day weekend. Most years, if we don’t travel, we have a nice dinner somewhere in a restaurant, although last year’s Valentine’s Dinner was not romantic at all. This year, I’ll be lucky if I get a Five Guys burger… which actually suits me fine, I guess. I’m pretty tired of this lifestyle, though. I miss traveling and new experiences. Maybe that’s why I dreamt of the airport… not that I especially want to fly under these conditions.

Last year, we went to Strasbourg, France for the annual wine expo, in which representatives from wineries all over France come to sell their wares. It was our first time going and it was overwhelming, but fun. This year, they have postponed it until June. The French are serious about their wine. We came home with about 40 bottles. We should have bought more, but Bill was worried about transporting them and storing them.

I’d like to pick up some more Pommard wine, myself…

Ah well… maybe 2022 will be better. For now, enjoy your VD, and may all your weird, vivid dreams be harmless.