Mr. Cavendish Comes to Town

I keep having intensely weird dreams (even for me) that feature professional male cyclists. There was the dream last week about Lance Armstrong letting me slip away in the current (at the oddly sterile looking lake...) and today's dream that featured Mark Cavendish as a scotsman, and  my houseguest, during a race. Granted, it is TdF time and I am exposed to many images of these men daily, but, it still warrants a raised eyebrow when I consider the content of my brain theatre. 

In my dream this afternoon*, Mark Cavendish was my houseguest for a few days during a race (he did not race at all during my dream, however). Instead, he remained strangely ambiguous, with few facial expressions or conversational attempts. At one point, my mom and dad came home, dressed to the nines (which makes these figures wholly incapable of resembling my actual parents) and bragging about my mom's new purchase of a white Dodge Viper (I know, right?!). Mark was impressed but didn't say much. 

Later, he informed me that he would have to leave two days earlier than expected to drive to Phoenix to pick up his mother's stuff** (she..died? I guess?). I was crushed. 

At another juncture in the dream, part of my nose was cut off and reshaped due to an illness I was having. My new schnoz was interesting, but the whole procedure left me entirely distressed because I was going to have to get my nose re-pierced. 

Further along in the dream current, some criminals took over the school building I was in and people were evacuated. I ran back into the building to try and get my suitcase (?)  and belongings. I was able to locate M. Cavendish from the roof. He told me to get to work, and get down there. I was exasperated. I HAD TO GET TO MARK. But. I also had to find my cell phone.  In my efforts to extricate myself from the building, and find the room with the evacuation lost and found, I was captured  by the men who had taken over the building. At that point, I was having a hard time seeing and was only vaguely aware of them planning to touch me in inappropriate places. (Not that it's first on my list, but how come I have to get touched by the criminals and not the cyclist? I guess even in my subconscious I'm not attracted to Mark Cavendish and would rather by touched by invisible rogues).  

Then I woke up from my nap. Five hours later. Fuckin' Whack, Bro.

* I have felt terrible for the last twenty hours or so. Something happened during the bliss of the beer tasting last night that left me feeling shaky, sick to my stomach and feverish. This may or may not have something to do with this dream.

**I would like to express my condolences to MarK Cavendish over the loss of his phoenix-based mother.