My new mattress & "foundation" (apparently, box springs are now called foundations) arrived on 29 August. In general, I feel better, more rested & with less stiffness in the morning. I don't know if this means I'm sleeping better or sleeping worse, or signifies neither outcome, but I've been recalling far more of my dreams with the new modern mattress.
In my dream, I found myself standing face to face with an acquaintance from my parish, a young-to-middle aged wife & mother. She's cute in real life, a mousy librarian type, but I've never found myself particularly allured by her. Back in the dream, she told me to call her "Lily," which isn't her name. Lily was modestly dressed, but in the way you know things in dreams, I knew the situation was sexually charged. She asked me to talk dirty to her, entreating me to explain to her that Nabokov was a Nazi. I understood this to mean the Russo-American novelist Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977), most famous for Lolita (1955), who, to the best of my knowledge, was not a Nazi. (The internet agrees, for what that's worth.) That's when I woke up, as perplexed in real life as I'd been in the dream.
Bonus! Song o' the Day
The Cranberries, "Dreams" from Everyboy Else Is Doing It, So Why Can't We? (Mike Papa Whiskey)
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