Last night, for some unknown reason, my dream contained a little lesson in law and economics: When it comes to legal matters, time, money and results are all directly proportional.
I suppose it’s mostly true. The more time and money spent on a case, the better results. Want better results, spend more money, and your lawyers will take longer. It’s not exactly the most revolutionary nugget of wisdom, and it applies to almost everything, not just law. I have no idea why my subconscious was so intent on my tossing and turning in the middle of the night with this thought in my head. I wish I remembered other specifics from the dream, but this is all I got, over and over. Hmmm… Is there legal trouble in my future?
Those dreams of old places, old friends and old crushes. You just talk and laugh as if nothing ever changed. You fall for the same smiles over and over and feel comforted and safe. Then you wake to find that those people really are far away living different lives now. You could call or write, but you wouldn’t know how. That feeling of nostalgia turns to melancholy as you set out again into your own life of new faces, wondering if they’ll ever be as familiar as the old.
I had a fairly big celebrity sighting last Friday on my walk home from work. On my way past the Gap, across from the Pacific Place mall, I noticed a girl rush outside to her friend, clutching a piece of paper and saying, “It was him!” I figured she must have gotten an autograph, and there must be someone important in there. I looked inside as I walked by and sitting in one of the chairs just inside the Gap was Mike Myers. Yup, Wayne/Austin Powers himself. I opted not to grab my camera and take a picture, because I didn’t want to add to the rapidly growing mob of attention he was starting to get. This brings my random, on-the-street celebrity sightings in Seattle to 3. The first being David Cross eating breakfast at Septieme, about a year ago, and the second, Steven Wright (spotted first by Andy) walking along First Ave. this past Spring.
Last night I had a heavily Incredibles-influenced dream involving superheroes, and Mike Myers and David Cross were two of them. I think David Cross’ powers were something between the Human Torch and a shape-shifter (yeah, a lot like the baby in the Incredibles). Unfortunately he wasn’t too impressive because he kept getting stuck in wooden-table form before catching on fire, so he always ended up burning himself. I can’t remember what my power was, but I think it was something rather useless like being able to walk 10x faster. Not run, just walk. A variation on Elastigirl was in our group too, but she was a bitch. Unlike regular superhero teams that work together and kick evil’s ass, we regularly got whupped. Most of the dream involved us nursing our injuries, arguing about tactics, and trying to sew up holes in our lousy costumes.
Woke up after the nice long weekend on Tuesday with a cold/flu thing, complete with sore throat and body aches. That didn’t stop me from hitting two more interviews this week and collecting 5 new business cards for my collection.
But what I really wanted to write about is something really annoying about being sick. The sickness-twisted dreams you have. I mean, the tossing and turning in order to fall asleep is bad enough, but man, the dreams… Last night involved a remote western saloon, where I was hanging out with a few friends, and my cousin Andy. The reason we were at this saloon? It was the only place in the country that was brave enough to play the new Jessica Simpson single. I have no idea what the actual song was, but the reason nobody else was playing it anywhere in the country was because it didn’t fit at all into the rest of Jessica Simpson’s crap. This song was actually good. It was such a perfect blend of so many genres, we could all find something we liked about it. At the same time, we all understood exactly how nobody else in the US or the world could get it. The strangest thing about this place wasn’t the song, or the collection of people listening. It was the parking lot. It was full of gila monsters. As I was about to walk outside to check on my car, the bouncer-type guy put his hand on my chest and said in a horrible Texan-meets-Scottish accent, “Careful o’ them things ou’ there tha’ looks like speckl’d piles o shite. I done stepped on one once and I swears I ain’t never felt a more painful, poi’snous, bitin’ piece o’ shit since.”
And then the worst part of the sickness-induced dreams kicked in… the endless loops of anxiety. It felt like hours that I was walking around this parking lot, carefully stepping over gila monster after gila monster. When I realized I was dreaming, I would force myself awake and try to shake off the dream, but as soon as I drifted off again, I was back in the parking lot. I kept trying to get out, but only after getting myself out of bed, taking an extended bathroom/drink of water/stretch break, could I get back into bed without falling into the dream again.
On the plus side of getting sick, in the past week I’ve rediscovered tea and honey (left over from the Admiral and his world traveler), which has helped my throat immensely.
I was driving back to my apartment building to pick up something (I think it was a jacket or a nicer pair of shoes) that I needed for an important meeting later. I was going to pop in for no more than 2 minutes to grab it and go, so I parked in the 5 minute load zone outside the building. I rushed up to my second floor aparment, only to find the door open and someone else moving boxes of stuff inside. I looked in and saw that the whole unit had been taken over by this guy. I was bewildered, but on his way back out, he explained. The apartment managers decided that the best way to accomodate a new, ailing tenant was to shuffle rooms around, placing my former neighbor in my unit. I was moved down to the first floor, to a unit right next to the garage, the managers and the street. The boxes of all my stuff had already been moved there, I just needed to grab the final few towels, blankets and rugs on my way down. The odd thing about this new apartment was that it came completely furnished. Completely furnished with the most garish mish-mash of gothic, renaissance, victorian and modern furniture and art, that rendered it appalling. I stared, slack-jawed at my new mess for entirely too long before realizing my car was waiting outside. I gave up on whatever it was I was supposed to grab, since it was still boxed, and I rushed outside. I saw a parking lot arrangement that looked not at all familiar. The place where my car was supposed to be, there was now a Volkswagen Rabbit. I also saw a tow truck loading up a white car, which I first thought was mine, but it wasn’t. I asked the drivers if my car had been taken and they said yes, it was gone. And because I was so late in getting back, it would be an extra $100 once I actually got to the impound lot. Lastly, because of all this mess, I had no way to get to my meeting.
Two nights ago I dreamt Muhammad Ali was my personal boxing trainer. It's pretty easy to figure out where this dream stemmed from. A few weeks ago, on a recommendation from my coworker who takes boxing classes regularly, I decided to try an intro boxing class with Alex (who has decided to stick with it). Taking the class, seeing the posters of famous boxers in the gym, and the new round of TV commercials featuring Ali, had prompted me to rent the Academy Award winning documentary, “When We Were Kings” about Ali's famous “Rumble in the Jungle”. It all added up to the dream where Ali himself was sparring with me, timing my jump-roping, holding the pads… And then somehow the dream transitioned into Scottish sword lessons, where I was wearing a kilt, holding a basket-hilt sword and learning from a man with the thickest Scottish accent I'd ever heard. Wish I could tell you where that part of the dream came from.
Last night I dreamt of a room full of Tetris-shape boxes, that I was carefully fitting together, one at a time. I'm guessing that came from all the CSS and HTML I've been staring at lately, working to redesign sections of my site and a couple work sites. Stay tuned.
Once you get in the habit of it, I've found it gets easier and easier to remember dreams, especially when you keep up the habit of writing them down. So, you're going to have to deal with yet another odd dream recollection…
Hamsters. I dreamt I got a couple hamsters. They were living in a temporary box in my room, and it came time to move them to their new home, a fancy aquarium full of wood chips. I went over to the box, ready to move them to their new home and lo-and-behold the female hamster I'd gotten, had been pregnant and had given birth to 5 tiny pink baby hamsters which were squirming around, nursing from her. I decided to wait until the next day before moving the new family of hamsters. The next day I checked on the box, and all of the babies were still nursing from the mother. How was I going to pick up and move the hamsters like this? Maybe if I slid something underneath all of them, I could pick that up and move them all at once? Should I pull each baby off the mother's teets, one by one, and put them in the new aquarium? If I lifted the mother, would the babies' sucking power be enough to hold on while I moved the whole mass together? This debating and decision-making process went on for quite a while. There were so many considerations when it came to this fragile batch of critters. In the end I opted for the sliding something underneath and lifting them all. Success.
Walking into a gigantic warehouse of beige PCs to find one part to fix a friend's computer…
Competing in a sports event involving skiing, roller-blading and juggling…
Will Smith and an Indian girlfriend of his, asking me to join them in a threesome…
Seeing hundreds of multi-colored Apples to Apples cards swirling about, taunting me with words I couldn't read…
Last night I had a very long, involved dream, which I remembered most of when I awoke. I didn't get a chance to write it down until now, just before I'm going to bed again. I know if I don't start writing now, I'll end up dreaming again tonight, then not get around to writing down either dream tomorrow, or the next day, until the diluted mess of dreams slowly escapes me by the end of the week. Brace yourself, this is going to be long. If you have the patience to venture on, it all began one night when most of the population of my home town all disappeared…
Last week: I dreamt about going skiing early in the season. The hill had a few patches of snow, and only one good trail that was fully covered all the way down the mountain. I tried asking people which trail was the good one, but they just told me to find it on my own. I finally found the trail on my last run. Later that evening, I was getting ready to go to a party and remembered that the rules for the party were to arrive with a group of 5 or more people, and in costume. I met up with 5 other people and lo and behold, 5 of the 6 people were wearing pirate costumes. I was the only one not wearing one. I think I was dressed as Rocky from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Two nights ago: I dreamt about visiting home and seeing a large group of friends again. We went out to a diner together and were laughing and having a great time. On our way out we saw a man we recognized, sitting by himself in a booth. He looked up and saw us and started saying hello. He was my gradeschool gym teacher, Mr. Moore. He was going on and on about how good it was to see us all again. He also seemed to know the people who never went to my school and certainly didn't have him as a gym teacher.
Last night: I dreamt something epic (makes sense, after seeing Return of the King earlier). It involved lots of flying and more that I can't remember. I think I was flying with an old friend, over fields and mountains and oceans. She and I talked about dreams and hopes and inspiration. There was an unspoken bond of understanding that permeated the conversation that left the two of us feeling completely comfortable with each other, and well, in love.
Last week I dreamt I visited King House back in Providence. I opened the front door and stepped in and as soon as I was inside, I was hit by a half-dozen different swinging pillows and pillowcases. What a greeting. Sometimes I miss that place.
The other night I dreamt of a place that was very similar to the world in Spirited Away (which I watched for the first time two weeks ago). The difference was that in this world many of the creatures were robots or automatons. The master of this world had nearly completed work on a robot that was advanced enough to use magic.
Yesterday, I woke up remembering a small scene from my dream. It was Thanksgiving and we had all eaten and I was helping a friend carve the leftover turkey. We found the wishbone and pulled it out, only to realize it was no ordinary wishbone. It looked like a thick ancient fossil and had some extra bony protuberances coming off the top. It seemed our Thanksgiving turkey was no turkey at all.
Last night I dreamt something about an indoor soccer game in the backyard of my parent's house. Yes, indoor soccer outdoors. The scenery kept morphing between grass and trees and astroturf and bleachers.
The past couple nights I've had some long, involved dreams about old places and friends and other memories. Last night I kept remembering bits and pieces of my trip to Petra, Jordan and thinking back on it now, it seems like even more of a figment of my imagination. As if my memories of the place weren't fantastical and dreamlike enough, they're now clouded and confused even more by this dream. I hardly feel like I was there at all. I'm looking back through the pictures from the trip, in order to remind me what was really there. Do you ever wake from a dream and find your memories altered in some inexplicable way?
Last night I dreamt I went to a bar back on the East Coast and ordered a Rainier beer. (Yes, it is odd that an East Coast bar had this on tap. My dreams are obviously not too concerned about details.) The bartender poured a pint, put it down in front of me and said, “That'll be $8.75.” What?!? Bottles at my local bar are $1.75 and pints elsewhere are usually $2 or $3. I made a fuss about the price being ridiculous, but I ended up paying. I was ripped off in my own dream.
Yesterday I read about Savannah cats (via Cup of Chicha), a new breed of cat essentially combining the smallest of wild predatory cats with the largest of house cats. The result is a pretty damn big pet. After seeing this, I was mostly just frightened and started wondering how many injuries (and possible small-child fatalities?) will result from this bad idea.
This morning I caught a glimpse of a cat walking outside and had a flashback to my dream last night. I dreamt I had a Savannah cat of my own. For a pet cat it was certainly enormous. Standing on all fours, it's head reached up to my hip (roughly 3 feet high). Unlike my thoughts yesterday, in my dream the cat was incredibly friendly, intelligent and obedient, much like a dog. It was a little large for my apartment, but since it behaved perfectly, that wasn't a problem. I remember having a visitor or two and the cat acted a lot like an energetic dog at first, but quickly calmed down. At one point I became somewhat lucid and thought I'd start testing the abilities of my cat and the limits of my dream. I started giving it commands to stand on it's hind legs, walk around the room, hit the light switch, do some cartwheels, and just when I was going to have it wash the dishes, I woke up.
I've been living in Seattle now for just over a year, and in the past few weeks especially, I've started having strange deja-vu about streets, people, and places from Providence. Three times in the past week I've wanted to refer to the location of something as, “just down at the end of the street where it hits Wickendon.” There is no Wickendon St. here.
Two nights ago, I dreamt that Alex and I were riding STP again. The differences this time were that Mim was riding with us, and the course was twice as long.
Last night I dreamt I was starting to work here again, just outside Providence. I moved into my cubicle and started organizing things, when all of the important people in the company got together and had a big meeting around me, trying to decide exactly what my job was and which department I was working for. Thankfully the lunch bell rang (no, we didn't really have lunch bells there, but we did in my dream) and we all rushed off. The Admiral went out with me for lunch. We found my car in the parking lot, under 3 feet of snow, even though it was sunny and in the 80's that day. We drove up the hill (it all began resembling Seattle now) and accidentally drove into a large tent where the University of Washington marching band was practicing. We left. Found a quick bite to eat and headed back. When I got back to my desk, I gathered up my things, walked over to my manager and quit.