so, last night on my sleep journey

i dreamt that i was hanging out at the library. someone called my name. they said, "do you want a job?", and i was all, "k". then, the lady who called my name was interviewing me. she said, "what was your grade point average in college?". then i was all, "oh, i never got anything below a 3.75." then she says, "ok, i'm going to go check on that. we have a way to look up every grade you've ever gotten.".

it was a scary dream. f.y.i: i'm pretty sure i had quite a few semesters in college where i earned less than a 3.75 g.p.a. fact.

i hate when people tell me their dreams. especially mom:

"hey, um, ooooh car. crap! where is my horn. hey, car. anyway, i had a dream last night....wait, hold on someone's calling me. hang on."

6 rude minutes later...

"hey, are you there? oh, crap! i missed my exit. i am going to wet my pants. hey, car! hey, hey, hey! so, i had a dream last night. actually it was this morning. i woke up so worried about my coy fish pond. do you know about that? i want to go fishing in my backyard! so i was up and i read a real good true story in my readers digest. about....a....ummm... hey, car! this man... and he died... loved turtles so much....is that my exit?...and a foundation...oooh! hang on! another call!"

30 seconds later after realizing the beeping sound was imagined and not another call...

"oooh! oooh! oooh! i found my exit! i am good! so anyway, my story i read. so the man's wife bought raccoons for all of the orphans and they all got plastic surgery so they would look just like katie couric. it was a good one. but then, then, then, i FINALLY fell asleep and had a dream. it was that your car insurance was too expensive."

after emily tells mom how she wishes she would reserve the telling of her dreams to someone's impending death, or maybe even lesbian fantasies...

"emily, that is not funny and it is not cute. you know what donald trump would say to you? he would say, 'you're fired', for all the money you waste."

after emily expresses to mom how she thinks a coy pond is a huge fucking waste of money.

"i'm done with you. i try to help you with a neat story and explain a dream that could help you. the language. i wish you would stop using such ugly words. goodbye."

the phone call is abruptly ended. emily is relieved and further convinced that her mother's prophetic dreams are weakening with age, eclectic landscaping, and take out.