How did I get kicked out of that dream?
Ninety five minutes ago I was woken up from a dream about rating perfumes on a scale from one to ten. Why rating perfumes? I am not entirely why I was awoken from a deep sleep. I afraid this was not one of those roll over and fall back to sleep moments. I was up, fully awake and the “I know I’ll be angry when the alarm rings in less than three hours when I fell back to sleep the hour before kind of sleep.” I tried so hard to fight the urge to be conscious and close my eyes. I lost that battle without batting a wink.
I gave myself a good five minutes before I grabbed the phone. Surely, there had to be a logical reason and it could have not been for a foul smelling eau de toilette. I had a text message from my college age daughter which naturally sets up a red flag in the middle of the night, but I quickly realized all was good there. Then I check on my sleeping younger children. My middle daughter has been absolutely trying to sell me on getting them a bunk bed and when I saw at 1:46am that she had turned herself in bed to where she was hanging her feet off on side while her head was now leaning against the wall, she had sold me on not getting that type of bed after all. I covered both of the girls after repositioning the middle one so she on her bed properly. Both of them woke up too, but after a quiet whispering of go back to bed, all was well again.
At 1:57am, I had convinced myself that I needed something to drink and while drinking a bottle of water, I wondered why water tasted so much better now than at 3:30pm. Then I daydreamed or consciously pondered about whether I should drink the energy drink I purchased and did not drink on Tuesday. Instead of making the really poor choice of drinking 25 calories of bouncing off the walls, I elected to pet my tuxedo cat. Normally, she would have murmured and closed her eyes, I was welcomed to kisses and purring. I know that the cat was trying to encourage a route back to bed and I went back to bed to look at online previously recorded open house tours in New York.
After seventy minutes of looking at luxury six story townhouses with indoor pools I will never afford in Chelsea, here I am. None the sleepier nor the wiser. The heater is quietly humming along while my awesome sixteen ounce bottle of water from the big box store creeps closer to room temperature. Hopefully my coffee that will automatically start brewing in 137 minutes tastes better too!
