Last night, I had a dream that I discovered this brilliant new line of greeting cards, and I bought one for all of my friends as a way of proclaiming my complete delight and relief in having found such witty gems.

I am so disappointed in myself. My subconscious can't muster up anything better than hallelujahs for Hallmark.

This isn't an isolated incident, either. Often, I don't remember having a dream. I wake up with a blank mind, which may or may not be that far from the condition of my mind throughout the day. I've lamented not remembering more of my dreams, and feel like I'm owed some doozies. But evidently my psyche can't conjure up anything worth recalling, and so maybe my daily clean slate is just a protective measure so that my conscious mind is ignorant of how dull the rest of my brain really is.

My sister came running out of her bedroom with wide eyes one morning during the Christmas holiday. "I had the WEIRDEST dream," she gulped. "We were being attacked by a giant BADGER, and you were five years old suddenly, and I threw myself in front of you and the twins and the badger was, like, EATING me, but you guys were safe."

My response was, "I had a dream that I sat down with a wine glass and a big bottle of Evian, and proceeded to drink it glass-by-glass until the whole bottle was gone. And then I woke up."

True story. I woke up feeling hydrated, but the tedium of reliving my lackluster dream almost put me back to sleep.

When my friend Erin visited, she told me about a dream where she was juggling Thanksgiving, the prom, and a band concert on the same night. Then, a giant Kareem Abdul-Jabbar started terrorizing the city, and she turned to Uma Thurman and said, "We must flee!" So they did.

My response? "I had a dream where I told someone in great detail what Julie's thesis is about, and the person said, 'Wow, that's relevant.' Then, I woke up."

What is wrong with me? Couldn't I have at least been having sex with George Clooney while I talked up the political, diplomatic, and military concerns inherent in lead-nation coalition warfare? Couldn't there have been a deranged trout chasing after my Evian supply? A repeated sexual dream wherein a faceless man rips off my clothes? I mean, I'd gladly change up only what I'm wearing, if it at least meant there was some nudity.

This is all pretty pathetic. Is there something I should eat before I fall asleep, so that I won't have dreams of mineral water and the Korean War? Or maybe this is my mind's way of telling me that life is exciting enough when I'm awake, so my brain's just taking a complete break while I'm asleep.

No, that can't be it. Because I'm sitting here at home on the couch with little else to do but write an entry eviscerating myself for being a total snore while I�m snoozing.

My gig on the show ended Friday after being extended for a pointless week. Not that I'm not grateful for the extra paycheck, mind, but it was sort of frustrating to be at work twiddling my thumbs while a bunch of my friends had the week off and crammed it with things like shopping and manicures.

Yesterday, I went running, but the rest of the day was dedicated to self-indulgent iTunes shopping and the loading of music onto my computer and sexy iPod. By comparison, today is downright booked: I hit the post office this morning, and have dinner plans with an old boss and another old colleague to talk about a new job.

I'm going to need a complete vacation tomorrow. A day to just relax and live out my wildest dreams. Which, apparently, is drinking a bottle of Evian one wine glass at a time.

Hey, at least it's safer than badger-wrestling.

Someone got here by searching for: Topher Grace is lame Watching: Krystle and Blake get married for the second time on Dynasty, where in their vows they pledge to be each others' "helpmate" and "comrade." Interesting choice. I'm going to start calling Lauren my "helpmate." Wishing: It wasn't cloudy. Boo.