Dream Log: Between snooze alarms this morning, I had a crazy dream where I sorta became Ralphie from “A Christmas Story.” (It’s not as random as you think; the copy my mom sent me is sitting out in our living room.) It’s not like I was an 8-year-old boy; I was me but I was in the Ralphie role. You know what I’m sayin’. So it was Christmas morning and I got to play Santa for the family. My brother Anthony was in the Randy role, and he was squealing with excitement and Mom kept telling me to find a present for him. (My sister wasn’t in the dream, perhaps as punishment for leaving me yesterday?) And so I was digging through this massive pile of presents, but I just couldn’t find any for him. Or for me, for that matter. There were lots that weren’t labeled, and there were also lots from random aunts and uncles but never addressed to us. And my Dad just kept sighing and rolling his eyes, and Antny kept squealing, and Mom kept telling me to hurry… and I woke up.

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