I would first like to state that I was pleased with this post the first time I wrote it. Just as I hit the submit button earlier, Internet Explorer decided to throw a little fit and therefore ate the entire unsaved entry. It is you who will actually suffer because this version seems a bit longer than the original. Cheers to chattiness.
There must have been some weird interconnected subconscious phenomenon during the night between last Tuesday and Wednesday, because strange and/or memorable dreams were abound. Either that or someone secretly applied a nicotine patch
to a bunch of us when we were not paying attention. Claire wrote in her journal
that she dreamt she was a professional basketball player. I had a rather intense series of dreams that actually awakened me; a feat the combination effect of four alarm clocks is even difficult to master. As I was discussing my own dreams with my bisexual girlfriend Erica (statement of the obvious: an inside joke), I actually started to remember more and more about what occurred in my head in the hours previous.
I am in Denver, Colorado apartment interior with online friend James. I only know it is he because I am playing with and petting Vinnie, his dog. This is the only part of the dream I can actually relate to an actual event, having viewed James' new photographs
immediately prior to going to bed.
Next, I find myself walking through a line in a buffet-style restaurant much like Piccadilly
. I exit the line with a tray in and approach an elderly woman sitting at a table. I know who she is, sit down and begin trying to talk to her. But she is not listening to me. Then she starts trying to steal my food. I reach out and grab her hand every time she attempts to grab a hold of my food. It should be noted that she was eating and still had food remaining on her tray when she began trying to pussyfoot away with my lunch. As much as I wanted to converse, she was not listening so I threatened to call the police if she did not cease and desist her futile efforts. Finally fed up with this, I leave my food behind and head to the parking lot.
As I am driving away, I spot a group of children running after my car and hitting on the trunk. I quickly exit the parking lot to get away. Apparently I drove over a bucket the kids had placed in the parking lot and they were chasing me to get it back. As I accelerate down the street, I distinctly remember as SR 436, one of the children continues to run behind my car. The bucket comes free and nearly hits the child who now must be running at a speed of thirty miles per hour. This overwhelming feeling of fear and dread overtakes me; I must get away from my pursuer. I floor the gas and take off, but the child runner remains close on my tail. 65, 75, 85 miles per hour and he remains.
I then find myself in what is supposed to be Key West, but is more like an impoverished third-world country. I park and am walking around a living complex that can be described as a mini-shopping mall filled with a vast array of ages, sexes and nationalities. I look through everyone's freezer for something and finally settle on an Asian woman's water. I leave her house and walk outside toward where my car was parked. As I approach the place on the street I had parked I find my car missing. I press the alarm button of my remote to try to locate my car, which I must have simply parked elsewhere. But no, I come to the realisation that the car was stolen. I call 911 to report this crime and am only able to speak to non-English speaking people who cannot even send me a police cruiser to investigate due to the language barrier. A real-life friend of mine attempts to comfort me, but I am upset. I have now lost everything.
Awaken. I sat in bed for a few minutes just trying to comprehend everything that I was remembering having just happened. I honestly was a bit uneasy. The emotions I felt during these sequences were very realistic. I peeked out the front window to see my car was still parked outside, just to be sure. It was, of course, but the events of my dreams would occupy my thoughts for the better park of the day.
So I am telling Erica about all of this and she laughs and comments about her co-worker who came to the office today fresh from an unusual dream. She dreamt her grandmother was stuck on the roof of their neighbour's house. The local fire department, which employed cats, had broken their only ladder creating quite a suspenseful situation. No word on if the firecats were able to rescue co-worker granny or not.
To conclude this book of a post, the post-dream effect for most people must be to drive like assholes. Really, people. Find the gas, refrain from cutting me off and use your goddamn turn signal at least occasionally. La Fin