Grinning lobsters and Teeth Vomit (I have GOT to stop drinking before bed)

I may have had what qualifies as the WORST DREAM EVER last night.

I should tell you I have never been a good sleeper.

Between the ages of 8 and 13 I both walked and talked in my sleep regularly. I would scare my girlfriends by sitting up straight in the middle of the night and holding entire conversations with Abraham Lincoln with my eyes wide open.

Once, my mom looked out the window just in time to see me walking into the woods behind our house. When she got to me, I told her I was going to the Mother Ship. Then I started crying. (My grandmother filled my head with a lot of alien talk as a child. Don’t be jealous that I’m one of the “star people” chosen to leave the planet on a shiny space low-rider and lead a new planet of space people, who she always described as being something of hybrids between Lady GaGa and Noam Chomsky. No! Crazy does not run in my family…)

Now I have chronic insomnia. Which is OK because I can stay up late finding gem YouTube videos like the one above or playing Obechi and shouting things at my computer like, “Yeah bitch! Who’s a tricky little polka dot now?”

Apparently I have a lot of rage. AND I have a lot of bad dreams.

In this dream, I was prego. Like really gross pregs where your belly is so big and your skin is stretched so tightly it reminds you of that moment right before a marshmallow bursts because you put it in your microwave on a Saturday night because you drank too much wine and no one is calling and it seems like the only thing that can possibly fix the sadness of this situation is a s’more, but you just end up cleaning sticky sugar off of everything and sobbing a little, because really marshmallows have no business in the microwave.

Anyway, during this obvious night terror, my boss was telling me that she had talked to everyone in the department and decided that they wouldn’t be allowing me to move to Minneapolis. She was saying things like: “We just don’t see you as very valuable” and “We hate your clothes.”

And we were sitting in what I swear was a Red Lobster. And the lobsters in the tank were grinning at me. And I started crying and I couldn’t stop crying and I got up to use the restroom and kept banging this gigantic belly against tables and knocking over people’s fancy “table wine” and they would just stare at me like drones with crumbs of those delicious cheesy garlic biscuits all over their faces. And when I got to the bathroom I started throwing up teeth!

Awful, right?

What does this mean?? Discuss!