Seriously.
So, ever since I gave up sugar and flour (a la “Intervention”), I have had these amazing dreams where I am able to eat something absolutely delicious like chocolate cake or a brownie or a cookie and not overindulge to the point where you find me in a corner, slathered in chocolate and shaking from sugar shock (which is what happens in real life. More or less). I know it can’t happen in real life, but that’s why dreams are amazing. My good friend, who has also given up flour and sugar and also has these kinds of dreams, says these dreams are better than dreaming about s-e-x.
But now, my dreams seem to be catching up with reality. To an uncomfortable degree.
At first, I would eat the illicit ingredient and then feel guilty. I would be incredulous and oh-so-sorry. But at least, in my dream, I got to enjoy the contraband cookie before feeling awful.
And then it happened. My dreams turned on me. The other day, I dreamt that I was at a family function and there was a delicious birthday/special occasion chocolate cake. And I was going to eat it. And it was going to be sooo yummy. But, then, of course, in my dream, I started to feel guilty. I don’t eat sugar, I told myself in the dream, but this is a special occasion — just this once, it will be fine.
[This is when it went awry.] So the time comes to eat the verboten flavors and I say — in my dreams, mind you, where I am allowed to eat whatever the fuck I want to eat without repercussion — “You know, I won’t have it, I don’t eat sugar, I’ll just have some decaf” (which is the treat that I allow myself — decaf with Splenda and cream).
WHAT?! Since when are my dreams on a diet?! It’s like dreaming that you’re about to make out with RYAN GOSLING and then saying, “Oh, wait, Mr. Hottest Man Alive No Matter What People Magazine’s Crack-Smoking Editors Say — I’m married.” No. NO. NO. You don’t DO that. It’s RYAN GOSLING. And this is a DREAM. Suspended reality. You make the fuck out with Ryan Gosling is what you do.*
Ugh. Since when are my dreams such rule-followers? Not cool, subconscious. Not cool.
*Honey, you’re probably not reading this since you never read blogs, but in case you are, I’d probably make out with Ryan Gosling if this ever happened in real life. Loveyameanit.