The me of my dreams

I had the oddest dream last night.

I was with friends outside of a hotel - big city -- you know the dream.  We were unloading our luggage from a limousine (first sign of a 'dream' right there).  We were passing our luggage to each other and setting it on the sidewalk.  Next thing I know, luggage has been stolen!  Obviously, I took over (it was my dream after all), gave people directions to run, but no luck.  Oh, the feelings of dread I experienced in this dream...I actually think it was enough to wake me up...clearly I couldn't handle the horror of someone up and taking my prized mini skirts and handbags from right there off the sidewalk...although I think they were packed in camping backpacks.  Perhaps this was a nightmare, after all.  Who puts handbags in a camping pack?

But to the point: all of this makes me wonder...I actually did have luggage stolen when I went to Mexico in high school.  I didn't get that worked up over it, then, in reality.  So why did I freak in my dream?  Was it because I'm more attached to my stuff, now, as an adult?  Or because it was a dream?  Hmm...perhaps some personal reflection is required.

Oh.  And in this dream?  Yeah, I was Sandra Bullock (clearly, a dream...why was I, Sandra Bullock, unpacking my own luggage?)

And in real life:


My finished coffee cozy that I talked about here:

And finally,

You know Mr. Fine is fine (enter sassy voice here) when this happens:

Mrs. Fine: I think I'm going to use these colors for my next coffee cozy because they are so pretty.

Mr. Fine: Yes, they are s-e-w pretty.

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Yep, he's fine!

Have a great weekend, all!