I had a dream last night that I was putting on makeup, and Mitch made me spill my really expensive Bare Minerals foundation (okay maybe you don't think it's expensive, but it's a splurge to spend that much money on something that my dog just licks off my face later) all over the floor. In my dream, I got really pissed at him, and he started laughing at me and wouldn't stop, so I just started beating the crap out of him. I was smart enough to stay away from his neck and face, so people wouldn't see that I had dominated him, but I totally cornered him in the bathtub and punched the crap out of his arms. And he kept laughing at me the whole time.
I don't know what this says about my marriage, or about me in general, but I always feel guilty when I have dreams about beating people up. I think it means I have this subconscious violent tendency. Most people don't know (or choose to forget) that I have a second-degree black belt in TaeKwonDo, which I obtained as a 12-year-old Ninja Turtle devotee. I totally played around sewers and manholes (keep it to yourself) with the neighborhood boys. We pretended that Shredder would come out and give us missions, and we would kick BeBop and Rock Steady's asses. Then I started to get distracted by girl things like Bonne Bell lip gloss and removing my leg hair, and I abandoned my dreams of auditioning for the next Three Ninjas movie as their tomboy sidekick who roundhouses her way into their hearts while at the same time rescuing them from their own misogynistic hubris. I would own that.
Anyway, my dream flooded back to me suddenly this morning as I was brushing my teeth and Mitch was toweling off after taking a shower. I confessed that I had assaulted him in my sleep, and apologized, all the while resisting the urge to give him a purple nurple. It's just so tempting.
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