To help celebrate the release of DREAM BOY by Mary Crockett and Madelyn Rosenberg, several of us are talking about our dreams.
Mary and Madelyn said we could interpret that “dream theme” any way we wanted in our blog posts—either literally or in aspirational terms. And whenever I’m given the choice, I’ll always go with the weirdest option possible. So you’ll be getting the literal dream theme from me shortly.
A little about Mary and Madelyn’s awesome book, which I’ve already read and given my, “Kristen thinks this book is very cool seal of approval.”
I’ve always been a dreamer. Daydreams. Night dreams. Dreams of grandeur and dreams of escape. If I were an onion and you pulled back the papery outside, you’d find layer after layer of eye-watering dreams. And in the center, where there’s that little curlicue of onion heart? There’d be a puff of smoke from the dreams that burned away.
Annabelle Manning feels like she’s doing time at her high school in Chilton, Virginia. She has her friends at her lunchtime table of nobodies. What she doesn’t have are possibilities. Or a date for Homecoming. Things get more interesting at night, when she spends time with the boy of her dreams. But the blue-eyed boy with the fairytale smile is just that—a dream. Until the Friday afternoon he walks into her chemistry class.
One of friends suspects he’s an alien. Another is pretty sure it’s all one big case of déjà vu. While Annabelle doesn’t know what to think, she’s willing to believe that the charming Martin Zirkle may just be her dream come true. But as Annabelle discovers the truth behind dreams—where they come from and what they mean—she is forced to face a dark reality she had not expected. More than just Martin has arrived in Chilton. As Annabelle learns, if dreams can come true, so can nightmares.
So, friends, off we go into the world of Kristen’s sleeping mind! I’m writing up my most recent dream for lucky, lucky you. Here it is:
I decided to take my kids on a trip for summer vacation, and for some reason, I had way more kids than I actually do. Instead of four kids, I had something like nine kids, and they all seemed to be in the three to five range. So in other words, but for the lack of tails, they were indistinguishable from a pack of naughty monkeys.
Well, I guess we had a good time on our vacation at the . . . beach? Maybe? The locale was sort of fuzzy, but I do recall that the house we were renting was a large, abandoned church.
When the time came for the trip to end, I decided, “Oh, we must clean up this rental house before we depart!” Clearly proving that this was a dream, I really overachieved with the clean-up in a way I would never do while fully conscious. I decided we needed to do a bang-up job scouring this abandoned church and that meant pulling the refrigerator out and cleaning behind it.
When we pulled the fridge out, I found a bird. Not just any bird, but a dodo bird chick. And I thought, “Wow! Aren’t those extinct? This might be the very last dodo bird chick in all the world! We must get this bird to the proper authorities!”
So I took me and my nine monkey-kids and this dodo bird chick—don’t know what happened to my husband at that point but he vanished. He’d probably had enough of all those kids and my lust to save a long-extinct bird native to the island of Mauritius, east of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean.
Again, for whatever reason that dreams have for being as weird-ass as possible, the animal rehabilitation center was located in this nasty, inner city neighborhood, right next to a check-cashing place and a methadone clinic. But I brought the dodo bird chick to them, and they seemed only mildly interested in my discovery (“Put it over there with the rest of them,” they told me).
With this good deed accomplished, I told the kids that I would buy them a treat at the nasty convenience store next to the meth clinic, which had all these bars and cages on the windows. I left the kids outside in the parking lot—naturally, because I’m the least responsible dream parent ever—and went in to buy them all a treat. But they only had beef jerky sticks the size of baseball bats or fruit chewies in the shape of chess pieces. So I went with the chewies.
And then I woke up.
So now I’ve let you into the whacked-out world of my dream life. So, yeah, feel free to recommend a decent therapist. And on that note …
Happy release day, Mary and Madelyn!
The rest of you, don’t hold my strange dreams against them in any way. And please add DREAM BOY to your book wish list!