I didn't have the greatest of sleeps last night (probably because the combination of a hurricane coming and eating too much ice cream before bedtime) and as such, had the craziest dreams. I woke up a few times, during the night, to find myself worrying about a white cropped blazer that I'd picked up when I was visiting in Toronto, earlier in the summer.
I tossed and turned; super pissed off that my beautiful, and go-to cover up, was ruined. I don't know exactly what I was doing, or where I was going, but throughout the whole dream, I was constantly spilling coffee on myself.
Now, I'd imagine that wouldn't seem especially strange to those who don't know me personally, but I don't drink coffee.
I hate it, in fact. The only thing that I like, is the smell and an occasional Coffee Crisp. I tried to get into the coffee-craze during high school and then again in grad school, but after I'd added a tonne of milk, sugar, and often some kind of flavour shot, it became clear to me that I wasn't really digging the taste of actual coffee...so I officially stopped trying (although it doesn't stop me from asking if friends wanted to go "grab a coffee or something").
So there I was, in my dream, spilling coffee on anything and everything. I don't know why I didn't just put the mug down, but I didn't and it meant that anyone in my pathway was subject to a coffee-attack. It was a long and confusing night, and when I woke up, I was convinced that my blazer was ruined.
As I padded myself into my dressing room (yes, I'm super spoiled and live in a house with no children, so my lover-for-life hooked me up, big time) I was surprised, and then delighted to see that the crisp collar and upturned 3/4 length sleeves of my perfectly tailored yet recissionista-friendly layering piece, was unscathed.
Funny how vivid dreams can be sometimes....