Wine and tattoos

Yes, it's nearing the end of the semester at last, and we're all going a little stir-crazy here at Little U. on the Prairie. No, I didn't invest in a new form of self-expression while inebriated. But there is an explanation for the title above -- hey, where are you going? Hang on and hang in there! Man, I can tell some of you are as impatient as I am.

So, shortly before Thanksgiving, D told me that he'd dreamed that I'd gotten a tattoo. A strange dream, for sure, as I'm too chicken as it is to get my ears pierced, much less endure the pain of a tattoo needle. But we all have random dreams now and then, and I assumed this was just one of them for D.

Well, it turns out that D liked what he saw. When I asked him what I'd chosen for a tattoo, he couldn't quite explain it. "It's those things on the front of a violin," he said. "You had one on each side above each hip."

Ahhhh -- I was pretty sure I knew what he was talking about but I didn't know the specific name for what he was picturing either. So I consulted one of my sisters, who plays the violin. "They're called f-holes," she said. For illustrative purposes, she and her boyfriend took pictures of the ones on her instrument. The results were quite pretty (see above).

Now I'm thoroughly curious about what planted this idea in D's head, even if it was subliminal. Dreams are supposed to be a kind of playback for things your brain stores up over the course of the day -- at least, that's one theory I've heard a few times.

I'm also curious about why I have crazily intense dreams whenever I've had red wine. They started a few years ago and have been pretty consistent (I can tell since I rarely drink reds). I don't always remember what I dream about, but the dreams tend to leave me feeling less than rested because my brain feels so exhausted in the morning. And no, it's not a hangover -- I drink barely enough to make a mouse tipsy.

Yesterday, I hosted a wine and cheese night at my place for a few of the girls in my program, and since they favor reds, I picked one up -- a Montecillo Crianza Rioja that looked decent but still reasonably priced for grad students on a budget. It turned out to be delicious, going nicely with smoked Gouda and baked Brie (I made another of the latter since the one at Thanksgiving was such a success). The best pairing, though, was with the blue cheese I'd chosen, especially when the cheese was eaten with dried dates.

So what did I dream about? I'm not sure. During Thanksgiving break, however, I also had a little taste of red wine with dinner, and I woke up that night to D asking me what was wrong. Apparently, he'd witnessed me pulling back my arm and then giving the mattress a solid wallop with my fist!

If I did anything violent last night, I have no proof. But I did notice that a large number of things that I'd left at the foot of the bed (socks, a magazine, and an envelope with papers I need to read) were scattered on the floor this morning. Considering that I'm known among my former college roommates as the girl who could stack library books on her mattress without disturbing them in my sleep, this suggests something out of the ordinary.