I dreamed I went to a punk concert and saw Sharon there. We talked for a little bit, and she pointed out that she was aware of some hats that I had recently purchased on Amazon. Blushing, I said, "I guess I do have a bit of a strange taste in hats." The hats in question were ladies hats, and I suspected that she thought that this choice of headgear belied a deeper issue regarding my sexuality, as she gave a knowing smile at my fumbling response.
Meanwhile, the crowd pressed us, and I lost sight of her. The dancing grew intense, and after one song, the whole concert was canceled for fear of violence. Realizing that Sharon had driven herself there and had probably gone home already, I wandered around, trying to find my car. I never could locate it, although I did see several cars that looked like mine parked in precarious places or on the back of tow trucks. I finally woke up with the unfulfilled, uncertain feeling of a dream that lacks resolution.
Thursday, January 30, 2025
Sharon and I talk gay hats at the punk show, and I lose my her...and my car
Hi, I'm Andrew, AKA Hoodyup the Evil Caregiver, and I approved this blog post. I may not have been in my right mind at the time, but what's done is done. I stand by my sins. Eppur si muove.
I started this blog as a way to vent my frustrations with life, the universe and everything (not the book by Douglas Adams; that was quite good, actually).
My seemingly charmed life took a turn in 2004 when my wife Sharon was diagnosed with MS. This blog documents the fallout and revisits the past, as well as chronicling my dreams and rants throughout the years.
Be warned - explicit language and content that runs the gamut can be found in these posts, which describe personal events, both real and those dreamed up by my overactive nocturnal psyche.
Also, I use real names whenever possible, so if you see a post with your name on it, it probably refers to you. Unless, of course, you don't know me, in which case it is purely coincidental.
Enjoy your visit. Comment, if you so desire, or lurk privately. This blog can be your guilty pleasure (or displeasure).
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.