My mind makes up for the often boring and brain-numbing life of a stay at home mom with a really cool dream life. By day, I'm dancing around the living room singing Laurie Berkner songs and smacking my backside to cheer my little boy up, but by night, I'm traveling the world, eating exotic foods and bumping into people I haven't seen in 20 years. Needless to say, I'm pretty hooked on that eight-hours a night.

In my dreams, I'm not sniffing out a poopy diaper, sorting laundry or strolling the aisles of the supermarket, humming along to the music. In my dreams, I'm not dealing with diabetes, either. Or rather, I wasn't, until last night.

In the real world, I'm having trouble with my fasting number. It's not super high, but it is above 90, the guideline for fastings during pregnancy. I'm not pregnant yet, just planning ahead. So in the real world, I get up a few times in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and check my blood sugar. When it's above 90 at 3 a.m., I up my basal insulin in the pump for a few hours to see if that will fix the problem (for the record, it hasn't yet...)

Last night, in the real world, my 3 a.m. blood sugar reading was 110. I decided to be really aggressive and up my basal to double what it has been during the day. Of course, double of a low number is still a pretty low number, but try telling that to my subconcious.

I went back to sleep no problem. I "woke up" and decided to go grocery shopping. No checking my blood sugar, no drinking my coffee. I rolled out of bed, hopped in the car and went straight to the supermarket. The old supermarket, in the old neighborhood where I used to live. It was a Saturday, and terribly busy. I didn't have a list. I roamed around, getting frustrated by the crowds and my inability to find perfect bananas.

I left, and went to a different supermarket, in an even older neighborhood.  In the next market, I couldn't find any blueberries. Raspberries were everywhere, but there were no blueberries. And again, the store was really crowded. And I just couldn't deal.

So I hopped in the car and drove off to yet another store, in yet another town where I used to live. Once again, I was frustrated with the crowds and realized suddenly that I was terribly hungry. Starving hungry. And woozy. Drunk woozy. I left my cart in the aisle, remembering that there was a bagel shop in the stripmall. I ordered my usual (which wasn't really my usual, because I have not eaten a bagel or visited the shop in years), a sesame bagel with scrambled egg, ham, swiss cheese and mustard, and a large coffee, milk, no sugar.

As the cook made my sandwich, I leaned up against the 1/2 mirrored wall in the back of the store, sipping my coffee. It was great coffee. Better than I've had in years. Then I realized, they put sugar in the coffee. But I kept drinking it, starting to feel better. It was then I realized, my blood sugar was low. Really low. I had left the house without even telling my husband where I was going.

I woke up shortly after that. I thought maybe my subconcious was trying to tell me something, so I went to test, but first had to get more test strips out of my supply closet, and break the seal on the box. It was all so terribly complicated that I thought I really must be low. But no. 108, same as yesterday, same as the day before.

Looks like today is going to be another day like every other day.