Either I ate something really weird before bed, or I’m having subconscious delusions of grandeur, because I had some doozy of a dream the other night. It was the kind of dream that, when I woke up, I immediately started jotting down notes so I could blog about it. It was weird, and epic, and somewhat sci-fi-y, all in the same brain blip.
So, in the dream, I’m at the optometrist’s office, being fitted for new glasses. Brian is sitting behind me, playing Star Wars Angry Birds on his phone, while the doctor flashes the light in my eyes, asking me a string of questions. When the interview is over, he flips on the lights, clears his throat, and informs us that I’m going to need eye surgery to correct my vision. No contact lenses or cat-eye frames are going to do the trick.
In dream land, there’s no paperwork or waiting involved. You just flash forward to the day after the surgery is done. I’m sitting in a hospital bed, my head wrapped in bandages. Brian is sitting beside me playing Star Wars Angry Birds on his phone.
And then the doctor comes in to reveal my shiny new eye sight.
When the bandages come off, not only can I see with perfect vision for the first time since my early twenties, but I can even read the serial number off the bottom of the television on the other side of the room. WOWZA! That’s some surgery!!
The doctor informs me that, for the first forty-eight hours or so after the surgery, I can expect to be amazed by all the many things I can see that I couldn’t see before. Then, he promised, it would be just like normal for me. So, we packed up and headed home.
Flash forward again, and I’m bundled up on the couch with Brian, happily watching Doctor Who reruns sans glasses. A shadow passes in the corner of my eye, and I look up. That’s when I see it—a giant spider, sneakily snuggled in the corner above our DVD shelf. It’s the size of a chihuahua, and not the tea cup kind.
I leap up, shedding afghans and unceremoniously dumping my husband on the floor, and shout, “SPIDER!”
At that point, red lasers come shooting out of my freshly fixed eyeballs, leaving nothing but a black ring of ash where the arachnid used to be.
Insanity ensues. Brian freaks out, spewing information about joining the X-Men and hitting up the Hobby Lobby for red spandex so he can make me a cape. And then, when things settle down, we make a list of all the many different things I can fry with my newfound laser vision.
And then my alarm clock went off. So we’ll add it to the list as well.