Yesterday was my birthday, so today is my first official day of being 51. Here's how I woke up this morning.
I had a dream. In my dream, Matt Damon was at our house (don't be jealous until you hear the whole story). He was just here to hang out. As soon as he arrived, he told us he had a brain tumor and was pretty depressed about it. Then the boys were wrestling with him in the living room, and after they were finished, he fell asleep. So Man-squared (about 15 years old at the time) decided to put him out of his misery and shoot him. Yes. My son shot Matt Damon.
Then somehow the family decided that Abbey would take the blame so Man-squared wouldn't go to jail. And Ben was convinced that if we just told the police his name was Ron Day, they would never know, and I kept asking, "WHO is not going to know that's Matt Damon???"
Then I woke up.
Here's my interpretation of the dream:
1. I am so sad Matt Damon is not in the new Bourne movie that he is dead to me.
2. No matter how old they are, boys will always wrestle in the living room.
3. Abbey loves her brother and will do anything for him.
4. I am the voice of reason in my family.
5. I should not eat peanut butter on Ritz crackers before I go to bed.
Be thankful ~