Mali, I'm Mad At You. At Least I Think I Am

It wasn't too long ago that I said something in public about Brian or our family or something. Brian refuted that it was absolutely not true. He has come to the conclusion that I dream in such intense and vivid detail that my dreams become reality in my head sometimes. So I have to get this one out "onto paper" before it fades from the foggy morning brain. Soon the memory will be lost to me and only the emotion will remain. What little I remember is this: I was home alone in my house when Mali rushed over. She had a few random knick knacks to bequef to my kids that they didn't want to pack up to go to Thailand. She was really in a hurry asked if I still had something they had loaned us for Maddie that they would need back for Jane. No problem, it was in my room, so we went up there and my closet door was open. She saw a shirt she had given me and got totally excited. She said she needed that back too. Okay. She ripped it from the hanger with an excited squeal. Then she went nuts taking back item after item. I couldn't take it, so I stepped out of the room so I didn't get mad. I came back five minutes later and she had a laundry basket heaping with clothes and a quick look in my closet revealed that I had only five tank tops left in my entire wardrobe. I was ticked! I told her she could take back the things she had given me, but that was only like five blouses. The other fifty things she had in her basket were mine and I needed them back. I helped myself to about five shirts from her stash, which totally miffed her. I was deciding I needed to cut my losses and keep her as a friend. Let it go I kept saying in my head. I was trying to figure out how to get her to leave my house without 90% of my wardrobe in her basket and a smile on my face when I heard Jacob (real life Jacob) crying for his morning snack in the other room. I knew I had to end the dream so I tried to hurry it up but Jacob was too loud, too insistent, too hungry. Alas, I woke up still angry at Mali for stealing all my clothes. And when I'm mad about a dream, I'M MAD! I stew and fume and think of how mean and awful the person was and still is. So I guess I'm mad at Mali. Really, really mad at Mali. I can still tell I'm bugged. I will try to forgive and forget quickly, but if that doesn't work out at least I have two years to work through it before she moves home from Thailand. I dream big and real almost every single night, but I recall only two other times that I've been mad like this. Once was Brian about a year ago. The other time was while we lived in Texas. It was about Brian's dad, Craig. No idea what either dream was about anymore. I do recall that when I was mad at Craig I was awakened by Ben in the middle of the night and was so angry I ALMOST took a swing at poor, innocent, sleeping Brian, I guess I thought it must have been Craig?? I don't know. I stopped myself before I hit him, but I was boiling mad and couldn't sleep well the rest of the night. Wow. This is like a true confessions post. I've never told anyone but Brian. Sorry Craig that you were the unlucky person to be the target of my dream. I really do love you. You're the best father-in-law ever.