On Dreams and Herbs
Friday, July 29, 2011 at 7:57AM
Louise in Bouquets, Flowers, Inspiration

Anyone who has read this blog for any period of time knows that The Thirty-Something Bride has some sleep issues (as well as occasionally referring to herself in the blog third person). It’s one of the reasons this blog even exists. I mean, if you can’t sleep then BLOG! It’s the only natural thing to do, right?

OK, so maybe not. But it totally kept me occupied during those 2:30am fits of wedding budget terror.

I’ve mentioned before that I sleep better now. Now, that I don’t have the day-to-day stress that comes with trying to convince a company president and CFO that an early increase of prices in anticipation of an overseas price increase during a recession is NOT a smart idea. And then they wondered, “Uh. What happened to all our sales?” All I heard was “Baaaaaah.” The bleating of simple sheep.

And no, I don’t harbor any ill will. None at all.

Anyway, back to the sleep stuff. While I do sleep more soundly, I still help that limping effort along with nighttime doses of Tylenol PM or when things get really serious, a prescribed muscle relaxant. Now, falling asleep generally isn’t the issue. I can do that. It’s the staying asleep that’s the real bitch. On most nights, I can take a single Tylenol PM and know that I might wake up a time or two but that I’ll be incoherent enough to fall back asleep. If I take TWO Tylenol PM’s I’m definitely out all night. The issue there is I’m super groggy when I wake up and have a hard time jumping into my day, which is what I prefer to do. The prescription stuff? Let’s just say I’m out, like, for a while. Last week I’d been somewhat restless, waking often and taking longer to fall back asleep so this week I upped the ante to the double Tylenol PM dose. Ahhhhhh, the sweet relief of sleep. However, this relief doesn’t come without a dangly little price tag. Dreams.

I dream like a mother-effer when I’m out like that. Crazy shit that I totally remember. Earlier this week I had a terrible nightmare. It was one of those where you’re in this constant state of semi-terror where you just know the shit is going to jump out at you and eat your brains. My nightmares have always been very apocalyptic in nature. It’s all Blade Runner meets The Stand (the book, not the movie) meets Red Dawn (WOLVERINES!!). Annoyingly, they are also the kind of nightmares where you can stand slightly outside your psyche and know that you’re dreaming. In this particular dream, I’m riding around the neighborhood I lived in when my dad was stationed at Paris Island, SC. We lived in base housing then; houses that were short, squat and brick with small, high windows, low ceilings and carports, each one indistinguishable from the next. All the houses are vacant, except that I know there’s evil lurking. Did I mention that I’m riding around this neighborhood on a BMX bicycle trying to save any remaining souls from whatever brain-eating, world-ending creature is playing hide and seek with me? Yeah, so I’m tooling around this neighborhood all the while my outside psyche self is screaming, “WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID COW!” And of course I can’t because not only am I riding the BMX bike, I’m riding it through dream molasses whereas I just know the so-far-invisible mind-suck creature moves as quick as an American’s bowels in India. I finally wake up, terrified and actually force myself to get up because I know that if I go back to sleep, it will be just as if I hit the pause button and the dream will continue where it left off. Asshole dream.

But then night before last, I had a really funny dream where The Candyman thought he could wait tables and I watched him  spill a giant tray filled with plates of linguini with clams and red sauce. This, I’m sure, is simply a rendition of my own experience of dropping a tray of four plates of spaghetti right in front of the people who ordered them, back when I was waiting tables at the tender age of 19 ("Um. Your spaghetti will be just one more minute….”). It was all good though because a giant wave came through the restaurant and cleaned up the mess (I’m talking about the dream now, now the actual Spaghetti Experience) and then we went out and played in the restaurant-surf where the beach was super-green lush grass and not sand. Good times.

Last night? I dreamed I was touring around some European city with David Duchovny (Oh, Why Won’t You Love Me?). We had found a killer lomograph-style camera along with a shit-ton of film and so we went exploring and photographing together. It was all very innocent (no dream cheating) but also a little on the romantic side because David liked my photo skillz so much he brought me a huge bouquet of lilac, wrapped in brown craft paper and tied with twine. I mean, how sweet is David Duchovny?

And then you know what happened?  I woke up and started thinking about really natural, herby like bouquets and that I should post about them. Yeah. That’s how stupid this wedding shit is in my head. So who am I to argue with myself? Here you go.


This is a lot like what David Duchovny brought me. Via One Lovely Day.


Simple lavender bouquet via SMP. Oh, P.S? Next week? I’ve got a bridal shoot feature taken at a LAVENDER FARM! Holy purple herbal goodness. Make sure you check back to see it!


Herb bouquet via Blame it on the Food.


Via this weird site that I think is written by the chick from Once Wed. These are DIY!


Awesome rosemary love. Via photographer Thayer Allyson Gowdy (go get lost in her mad skillz on her website).

So there you go. That’s how some of these posts happen: via end-of-days style dreams with the lingerings of dinner spillage and X-file reruns all playing in my head.

Happy Weekend!

Article originally appeared on The Thirty-Something Bride Wedding Blog (http://thethirtysomethingbride.com/).
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