I am presently house sitting for a friend of mine while his family goes on a cruise down Florida way. I've enjoyed my time here overall...they have a flat screen HD TV with digital cable, tasty leftover ribs for me to munch on, as well as a comfortable king-size bed for me to sleep in. One of the only downsides to the whole experience is that I've still not adjusted to the house well enough to sleep soundly in that amply sized bed. Last night I was having especially bizarre dreams. Here are some snippets I can remember, in the order I think I dreamed them:
1) At a pub in Atlanta, Mark Rogers-Berry tells a bartender I offered to pay his tab and then leaves before I can tell the woman he's lying. I only have a twenty dollar bill in my wallet and I just know it's not going to be enough to pay for my beer as well as all MRB's drinks. I'm afraid of what the bartender is going to make me do to square away this money situation.
2) I move a dresser, a bookcase, some of my dumbells, and various other items into one of the rooms in Dana, Beth, and John's apartment (although it didn't actually look too much like the real Apartment K). Based loosely on a conversation I actually did have with those ladies while I was in Atlanta two weeks ago, I assume in my dream that because Dana moves out of her room, I'm next in line to occupy it. After depositing all my stuff in the room, my Atlanta friends as a group are upset with me because that room had actually been promised to the loveable Rohrers. Before I can figure out how to resolve this situation, Dana tells me she's moving back in and now I have to find a place to take the things I just moved in to her "old" space. Even though I have nowhere else to go, I am strangely optimistic that I can remove my possessions from the apartment quickly and easily.
3) Many members from my mom's side of the family are going on vacation together. Whatever long trip we are about to embark on, we've decided that taking Greyhound is the ideal means of travel. The driver of our bus, however is a real jerk. He's saying jerky things over the speaker system from the moment the bus starts rolling. In my distaste for him, I chuck my cell phone at his head as hard as I can. A direct hit!
Expectedly, he's indignant about the whole matter, immediately stops the bus, and demands to know who threw the phone. I don't hessitate to confess. He then steps into the aisle of the bus and tells me, "You're outta here!" (Interestingly, the aisle is on the passenger side of the seats rather than the middle.)
Realizing that I was now going to miss my family's vacation AND I had just forfeited my deposit, I angrily start hitting the driver as hard as I can in the face and chest. I rip off his white shirt and wrap his black tie in my left hand so he is less able to escape my punches. I even grab another person's cell and start hitting him with the antenna end. Bafflingly, none of my blows are really hurting him. He's not enjoying himself but he's not getting injured either. I really don't remember how my mind transitioned out of this part of the dream.
In the final (psycho)analysis, it seems that my subconsious mind is a microcosm of the madness.
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2 comments:
peering through the windows into your kingdom brings a smile to my face...Have you ever pummeled someone as you described in the bus dream?
No, Doost, I have not ever pummeled someone in the manner that I attempted to beat the living poo out of that obnoxious bus captain. I've never been in a situation that led to a physical confrontation of that sort.
What I found truly curious about my strategy in that dream is that I kept trying to punch him in the chest. Inspired by Bss Rutten, I've long thought that I would seek to work the body in an attempt to land the coveted "Liver Shot!"
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