Dream On
Last Saturday night I fell asleep on the couch at approximately 10:30, to the sound of a schitzophrenic woman cryptically assisting police in catching her rapist on Law and Order SVU. I know, my Saturday evenings are the envy of many. At 12:30ish, my sister's cellphone started obnoxiously blaring the Chinese song from The Nutcracker, and I kind of woke up. (I always wanted to be in the Chinese dance in high school productions, by the way, but it never played out. Considering that the choreography usually called for two decent enough people en pointe (it didn't seem to change too much through the years), this is no surprise. I was, however, once cast as a soldier in pointe shoes. And let me tell you, wearing a costume that consisted of only a medium-sized white leotard, white tights, and tiny cropped jacket was more than slightly mortifying and definitely less than flattering on my big girl figure.)
Anyway, when I sort of woke up, the first thing I did was assure myself that no one I know owns a light gray station wagon introduced in the late 70's. And I felt temporarily relieved. The next thing I heard was my sister asking, "Sara, why are you crying? Wake up." To which I responded, "I'm not crying. I'm fake crying." (Still in a daze, of course. At least, I hope.) Oh, I was making some freaky noises - some combination of moaning and wailing. It sounded something like, "ooohhh" or "whoooo" or "awwww," high-pitched, fast-paced, and loud. When I finally sat up and stopped moping, I relayed the dream sequence to my sister. Since I still remember it vividly today, I figured I might as well share it.
Part 1. Definitely in black and white. Names withheld to protect the innocent.
A friend breaks up with her boyfriend, but they remain friendly. Friend and I visit ex's work because we both formerly worked there. Ex sees friend and starts pdaing with his new woman/coworker. He is an obnoxious ass. Friend becomes very upset and runs away, leaving me feeling a bit awkward. I decide it is in my best interest to drive off in a little gray station wagon that can't be worth more than $500.00, tops. I justify my grand theft auto by telling myself that it could be my great aunt's car, and she wouldn't mind.
Part 2. In color.
Someone is chasing me. I am still driving in the stolen, puttering wagon. Maybe the rightful owners of the car took someone else's and are tailing me. More often than not, someone is chasing me in my dreams, so I'm not surprised. (Yes, even my dreams are anxiety-ridden.) I am driving fast (something I don't enjoy or do particularly well), out of necessity, and I happen upon a familiar place. I think it is the PA Grand Canyon. As in, I have to drive across the bottom of the canyon. I guess it's dry down there. There is a fork in the "road," and I have to veer to the right, rather than the left, due to construction roadblocks. I have never traveled down this path before. The road is windy and narrow, and I could use some Xanax because I am forced to continue speeding. Then, I drive into a building. I don't crash into it; it is a building that is meant to be driven through. Inside, there is a car obstacle course. I maneuver through it well enough, and I even kind of enjoy driving across the multi-colored plastic balls that seemed to be stolen from the McDonald's play area. To complete the final obstacle, I attempt to drive over a giant pool of water on a bridge that is maybe half the width of my car. I somehow manage to drive across for a total of 2 or 3 seconds before my car plummets. The water is fairly deep; my car is entirely engulfed. I get out fairly easily, though I don't recall how. I hop off the side of the pool and start running, even though I'm no longer being followed. I feel guilty about leaving the car in the water, but I don't really have a choice. As I jog toward the exit, I cross a red line on the now gymnasium floor. A huge flag unfolds at the top of the doorway, similarly to the "STOP, FORREST" reminder at Gump's college football games. It reads, "CONGRATULATIONS WEIS EMPLOYEES!" I then feel extremely guilty because I am trespassing at the location of the grocery store workers' family fun day. I realize that the course is most likely not intended for cars, and I feel kind of stupid. I am relieved that I am alone. I am saddened to think that I have squashed so many of the stupid plastic balls. Dirty and deflated balls make for a less than ideal play area for kids. I worry that the car rusting in the pool will be a safety hazzard and that they won't be able to reposition the flag for its rightful viewers.
Part 3. Also in color.
I am home and extremely excited. I tell my mom that we have to book our initial plane tickets to go on The Amazing Race: Family Edition. I head to the computer and suggest that we purchase them through buytickets.com. (How very uncreative of my subconscious.) She hesitates and then says, "Well . . ." in the sing-songy, "I take no responsibility for my actions" voice she uses when she "borrows" half a pack of my cigarettes overnight or eats/gives away the remainder of a food item I've purchased. (The latter is an abhorrent sin, in my opinion. I am a strict believer in the unspoken rule of one. As in, if one should choose to eat someone else's food or drink someone's soda, one must be certain that there is at least one of the items remaining. It's common courtesy.) She cheerfully explains, "We were supposed to meet with the producers yesterday, but I declined because the Superbowl was on and your dad and sister wouldn't want to miss it." Being far from a fan of team sports, this is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my entire life, and I make it known. In shock, I go to the CBS website and confirm that our pictures are no longer up. And then, I start wailing.
So, yes, I fake sobbed for a lengthy enough period of time because I wouldn't be the newest face of reality television. I'm not so sure I want to know what that indicates about my character.
Anyway, when I sort of woke up, the first thing I did was assure myself that no one I know owns a light gray station wagon introduced in the late 70's. And I felt temporarily relieved. The next thing I heard was my sister asking, "Sara, why are you crying? Wake up." To which I responded, "I'm not crying. I'm fake crying." (Still in a daze, of course. At least, I hope.) Oh, I was making some freaky noises - some combination of moaning and wailing. It sounded something like, "ooohhh" or "whoooo" or "awwww," high-pitched, fast-paced, and loud. When I finally sat up and stopped moping, I relayed the dream sequence to my sister. Since I still remember it vividly today, I figured I might as well share it.
Part 1. Definitely in black and white. Names withheld to protect the innocent.
A friend breaks up with her boyfriend, but they remain friendly. Friend and I visit ex's work because we both formerly worked there. Ex sees friend and starts pdaing with his new woman/coworker. He is an obnoxious ass. Friend becomes very upset and runs away, leaving me feeling a bit awkward. I decide it is in my best interest to drive off in a little gray station wagon that can't be worth more than $500.00, tops. I justify my grand theft auto by telling myself that it could be my great aunt's car, and she wouldn't mind.
Part 2. In color.
Someone is chasing me. I am still driving in the stolen, puttering wagon. Maybe the rightful owners of the car took someone else's and are tailing me. More often than not, someone is chasing me in my dreams, so I'm not surprised. (Yes, even my dreams are anxiety-ridden.) I am driving fast (something I don't enjoy or do particularly well), out of necessity, and I happen upon a familiar place. I think it is the PA Grand Canyon. As in, I have to drive across the bottom of the canyon. I guess it's dry down there. There is a fork in the "road," and I have to veer to the right, rather than the left, due to construction roadblocks. I have never traveled down this path before. The road is windy and narrow, and I could use some Xanax because I am forced to continue speeding. Then, I drive into a building. I don't crash into it; it is a building that is meant to be driven through. Inside, there is a car obstacle course. I maneuver through it well enough, and I even kind of enjoy driving across the multi-colored plastic balls that seemed to be stolen from the McDonald's play area. To complete the final obstacle, I attempt to drive over a giant pool of water on a bridge that is maybe half the width of my car. I somehow manage to drive across for a total of 2 or 3 seconds before my car plummets. The water is fairly deep; my car is entirely engulfed. I get out fairly easily, though I don't recall how. I hop off the side of the pool and start running, even though I'm no longer being followed. I feel guilty about leaving the car in the water, but I don't really have a choice. As I jog toward the exit, I cross a red line on the now gymnasium floor. A huge flag unfolds at the top of the doorway, similarly to the "STOP, FORREST" reminder at Gump's college football games. It reads, "CONGRATULATIONS WEIS EMPLOYEES!" I then feel extremely guilty because I am trespassing at the location of the grocery store workers' family fun day. I realize that the course is most likely not intended for cars, and I feel kind of stupid. I am relieved that I am alone. I am saddened to think that I have squashed so many of the stupid plastic balls. Dirty and deflated balls make for a less than ideal play area for kids. I worry that the car rusting in the pool will be a safety hazzard and that they won't be able to reposition the flag for its rightful viewers.
Part 3. Also in color.
I am home and extremely excited. I tell my mom that we have to book our initial plane tickets to go on The Amazing Race: Family Edition. I head to the computer and suggest that we purchase them through buytickets.com. (How very uncreative of my subconscious.) She hesitates and then says, "Well . . ." in the sing-songy, "I take no responsibility for my actions" voice she uses when she "borrows" half a pack of my cigarettes overnight or eats/gives away the remainder of a food item I've purchased. (The latter is an abhorrent sin, in my opinion. I am a strict believer in the unspoken rule of one. As in, if one should choose to eat someone else's food or drink someone's soda, one must be certain that there is at least one of the items remaining. It's common courtesy.) She cheerfully explains, "We were supposed to meet with the producers yesterday, but I declined because the Superbowl was on and your dad and sister wouldn't want to miss it." Being far from a fan of team sports, this is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my entire life, and I make it known. In shock, I go to the CBS website and confirm that our pictures are no longer up. And then, I start wailing.
So, yes, I fake sobbed for a lengthy enough period of time because I wouldn't be the newest face of reality television. I'm not so sure I want to know what that indicates about my character.
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