"Oh, hey. I had a dream last night and you were in it!" Seems so innocent but unless you have an eternal bond then it can be wild. That person has to be thinking, while they smile awkwardly or pretend not to be paying too much attention, "So is this a sex thing? Or a violence thing? Or both!?"
No, none of those. We are tainted by media that tells us dreams are true running sagas when they have the consistency of blown cigar smoke rings. Very cool in the moment but gone immediately. All the ethereal metaphors. Sand through your hands. That sudden boost of confidence when the perfect put back pops up. The sight line of dandelion seeds before they melt into the grass. All just melts away. I call shenanigans on seasons of TV shows where "it was all just a dream." I saw a brutal tweet where imagine, after all the Harry Potter books*, it just ended with him waking back up in the cupboard under the stairs. All just a dream!
So, no. I don't have enough dream time to come up with a dream where I fantasize fantasize. Or playing some revenge fantasy. Instead they are images or brief moments that maybe get strung along into something cohesive with enough power to bother the hell out of me when I wake up and it is gone. "Fuck, that was a good one. I think."
It's a ton of "I thinks."
I've dreamt of boxes, an old dream to be truthful. But, while at my last job it was boxes falling in Tetris waves, now it is me having to open boxes. Endless ones in endless sizes. Shoe boxes and monster 24" inch ones. A whole damn gaylord box. Some triple wrapped in tape at each corner and others about to collapse. The contents doesn't matter. All opening and then carrying them to the dumpster. Here everything tumbles and gets caught beneath my feet so I wake up falling.
Ive dreamt about my boss. Needing an answer but she is an image on a monitor and she just smiles and twirls her hair. Then I wake up with no answer.
Moldy books that cough back spores. Here is a copy of "The Kids Guide to Video Production**" and I open it up to a mycology bomb. What the fuck! Ack!
I learned a coworker is into kung-fu so I had a dream where they are in one of those martial arts outfits. The white ones with the belt. And they are working in that as if this is a 70's kung fu grindhouse movie. The kind WuTang clan writes songs about. At the copier ready for a crane kick, I guess.
Lots of images of hair, like the pages of those salon books. But just flashes that remind me of coworkers. This is credit to a penchant to write up endless to do lists. I list them on Post it Notes and then cross them off while the edges curl from being rubbed by my wrists as I type on my laptop. These are the things I need to do. For these people. But it is the same people who cycle.
I don't want these the ephemerate so I am going to jot them down even if they are in bits and pieces.
*Loyal readers will note I still have not finished the series as finding the 4th book has been tricky to get used/free as to not support Rowling. We will get there!
**Copyright 1991. This kid's school and/or parents had a lot of blank VHS tapes.
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