Whoo, I’m sleepy all of a sudden. Soporific. Soporiphoria. That should be a word but it ain’t. A few slices of Uno’s pizza and some shrimp ‘n crab dip … that’ll do ya. Mercy. Feel like I need someone to inject adrenalin into my heart.
Detection device; personal watercraft; wine; office furniture; ice skates
Every once in a while I’ll open the door to my apartment, on the way out, and I’ll be surprised by what’s on the other side of it. Not too long ago it was a cat. The one I let in for the heck of it and it walked around the entire perimiter of the apartment before it followed me out. Dang it, I spelled “perimeter” wrong again. This one time (“at band camp”) back in the Bay Area I opened the door and there was a little girl standing there. Just standing there. Being a little girl she was very short so it took me a second to realize that there was a small person in my door way. So cute but I really wasn’t expecting anyone or anything to be on the other side of the door so all I could say was, “Uhhhhh.”
Chances are that I was talking to myself seconds prior to opening the door. If not, I was probably talking to my dog, Leika. Whatever the case, the little girl looked at me, saw the surprise and confusion on my face and she laughed. Giggled, really. And I said, “Hello!” as my brain frantically tried to catch up to reality.
She was a girl scout selling cookies, I think. Her mother was standing a few feet away and said, “Go ahead, honey.”
Needless to say, I bought a few boxes of girl scout cookies. She’s lucky, though, that this was before “The Ring”, “The Ring 2”, “The Grudge” and “The Grudge 2” and all those other horror movies with creepy little girls in them. I might have reflexively brained her. “The Ring” freaked me out. There. I said it.
Last Thursday I opened the door to get ready for work and there were two guys standing there holding a window. My brain’s error log (I checked it later) read:
Disk error: (A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail
There were a bunch of windows leaning against the railing. Apparently, all the windows in the building are being replaced so now I have new windows. This brings me much more enjoyment than I ever thought I’d get out of windows. Now I can open them. Before, two of them were stubbornly immobile. Every once in a while I’d put some effort into trying to open them and I’d rip off a few shards of window-grade vinyl, being careful to not disturb the wasp graveyard on the window sill. Got a nice crisp, Autumn feel in here now. The chances of me hotboxing myself to death have been drastically reduced (burning Duraflame logs without opening the fireplace flue is a sign of mental impairment).
I watched “Mission Impossible III” last night. I browsed the Tivo recordings and digital cable schedule and decided that I didn’t want to watch “Land of the Dead” again or Cinemax or the news. Not crazy about zombie movies. Shaun of the Dead played the geeky, flappable tech wiz in MI3. So of course I had a very long, intricate, nearly epic dream about zombies. It started out so innocently.
Damn. Pinky is killing me — or browny. Jammed it catching the football today. Hate that feeling. Yet will I persevere.
I started out with my family on vacation. I was trying to find a room for my sister in the house. There was something about a bunch of school buses. My coworkers were going somewhere and I missed the bus. The house I was staying in with the family somehow suddenly had many more rooms and floors in that dreamscape way. Then there were zombies. I dunno. Confused me, too. There was no gore but there was all the terror of zombies and people being zombified. And running. Lots and lots of running. Meeting people and running. Finding people and running. Leaving people and running. Shouting warnings and running.
Eventually, the school buses came back and my coworkers returned. It was at a school now on a wide, clean street and there were a lot of people milling about. I think I had been running away from zombies in a church. I tried to warn my coworkers and we all started running. I got separated somehow and ended up back in the church/school, which was huge, had many floors and was way too big for reality. I’d like to apologize to my sisters, nephews, coworkers, high school friends, mother, the cute petite Asian girl that came on to me (inspired by a scene in MI3, no doubt), and the child amputee (who got caught by a child amputee zombie) for leaving them and running for my life.
It was by following my aunt down three flights of metallic, industrial stairs into a massive, cavernous church that I survived. I followed the sounds of a quartet of old men harmonizing hymns. I thought I saw some zombies in the distance but they were restrained somehow. Someone way in the distance waved but I didn’t look long enough to see who it was.
I woke up.
WTF, huh? I’ve come to this conclusion about dreams. Assuming the alarm clock doesn’t go off or some other sound doesn’t disturb you, you wake up from dreams when it’s time to wake up. Many times I wake up just when I’m about to get the answer to the question I’ve been questing for. Or just when I’m about to eat the food that I’ve been struggling to reach or find money for. That used to annoy the hell out of me because I thought I had missed out — that I missed “the answer”. Then I realized that it’s the question that the dream was leading to. The hunger that’s nearly sated but not.
Dreams ask questions.
I’m crashing. Have a good night, America. Have a good night, world.
Currently listening :
As the Bluebird Sings
By A Whisper in the Noise
Release date: By 18 April, 2006