posted Sun, 29 Aug 2004
I love to sleep but I hate to dream. Yesterday, I woke up in the middle of a dream where Harpo and I were at Coral Gables High School in Miami trying to round up all the frogs and snakes we had brought in buckets. The building was Coral Gables High, where I took French and Portuguese and tutored math in the evening program, but it was really a Catholic elementary school. It was morning and all the kids were arriving in their blue plaid uniforms.
I don’t know why we were there and I especially don’t know why we had all those buckets of frogs. But somehow the frogs got loose and we had to gather them again. But when we got a bunch of them, Harpo threw them in a bucket that had a little shark in it. It was quite stressful.
Yes. On The List.
Then we had to go to some work meeting (my work) at the VP’s beach house. The VP wasn’t there but a lot of other people from work were. I was shopping with Leigh and we were looking for little souvenirs to give to people, but I was not going to spend $40 on a little box just because it had a photo of Elvis on it.
Then my group had to arrange to meet on Christmas because we had to get this project done and I was really ticked off that I would have to do such a thing. Yes, I have noticed that two of the seven persons in my group are not Christian: one is Hindu and I don’t know what the ethnic Chinese guy from Singapore is, but I do know that you can’t make reference to Daniel being thrown into the fiery furnace around the cute Indian and expect him to know what you are talking about. He also claims never to have heard the term “sticky wicket,” which makes me suspicious. He claims to play cricket, but has never heard of a sticky wicket? Really.
Last night I dreamed I was in medical school at one of those shady Caribbean schools. I don’t remember which island, but I do know that you were not allowed to drive on the highway except for special occasions. Not that that mattered much as I didn’t have a car.
The school and the dorms were in the same building. We had lectures all day, then everyone went to his room. The stairway for the even floors was on the left and the odd floors on the right. I kept getting mixed up. There was this one obnoxious woman who wanted to identify the top student in our class so we could show those US schools what’s what. The rest of us thought she was nuts.
We had to go through this obstacle course to get to class. The course including scaling a three-story building. My friend Patricia was in the dream with me. She was dating about six of the other students, but no one asked me out, so I went to the animal shelter and looked at the cats and dogs. They wanted me to take a cat home, but long-haired cats seem to give me sinus headaches and there were no Siamese cats.
I know these don’t sound so bad in the light of day, but trust me, I do not enjoy them. Why can’t I dream about sex or something interesting? Actually, the dream I had last week with Denzel Washington should have been erotic, but it wasn’t. As soon as he reached to kiss me, I told him to stop because I heard my boss coming and I didn’t want him to know I was involved with a married man. Then I said I had to do laundry and asked if he had any whites he wanted washed.
I also have the standard dreams of getting to school and not knowing where my locker is. Or having someone tell me that I have to take high school math again. I protest and say that I have a master’s degree so it shouldn’t matter what I got in high school math. (All “A’s”, by the way, so they shouldn’t be bugging me about this now.) Or I realize that I never did drop that class at the beginning of the semester and the final is tomorrow – and I never attended class, either.
This sort of happened to one of my college roommates. Dee realized the night before it was due that she had to write a 20-page paper on pig iron. For you youngsters who don’t remember the days before the internet and word processors, this was a huge deal. That was when you had to go to the library to do research using ACTUAL BOOKS. And then you have to TYPE the paper without making ANY mistakes. In the snow. Without shoes.
The working life: Concealed carry
4 hours ago