Tuesday, March 29, 2011

I have unsuccessful birthday parties and new friends with weird names.

In the house where I grew up, my mom sliced a few pepperoni pizza Hot Pockets into small squares. She also filled several glasses with ice and water. And we both thought -- until the guests started arriving -- that the spread was good and enough for my birthday party.

We ran out of Hot Pocket squares almost immediately and all the ice in the water melted in an instant. I also didn't know several of the guests who showed up, though I was really excited to meet a pair of Asian-American brothers who parked a tan Ford Explorer on the front lawn. When the guys came into the house, we introduced ourselves.

"I'm Arleen," I told them.

Then, they told me their names: Bimbo and Boob.

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

Had this dream last night. Double you tee eff?

MacGyver and I hang out in the woods.


In the woods at night, I watched a man I recognized (who in retrospect, I'm certain was MacGyver), throwing Pop Pop Snappers into trees, to scare the birds out of them and entertain the crowd of kids and adults that surrounded him. A feeling of de ja vu overwhelmed me.


"I've been here before," I told the man. "I recognize this." Then, amid the crowd, I noticed someone else I recognized: me, around a year and a half old, in a magenta dress, sitting on the ground, watching the man throw Pop Pop Snappers into the trees.


With a blown mind and a lot of excitement, I went right up to me, picked me up and carried me around. First, I tried to explain to me that "I am you, in several years!" Little me didn't understand. So I showed me to everyone else and said the same thing. But no one in the woods was as fascinated by little me's visit to the future and/or future me's visit to the past. Then, I woke up.

- - - -

Had this dream last night.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

I have a defunct bicycle.

"I need a bicycle - STAT!" I said to my dad. Without one, I wouldn't be able to participate in the upcoming bicycle races organized by several of my classmates (past and present). So he agreed to find one for me. And he did. So with it and my bookbag, I drove to school and dragged the bike into a classroom where we would all get ready for the races. It had been years since I'd tried to ride a bicycle. I knew I should practice before the races, but I didn't want my classmates to notice if I struggled. So I sat still on the bike until the start of the first race. "...GO!" I grabbed for my bike's handle bars, prepared to pedal off, which is when I realized that my bike didn't have handle bars. It had a grip for each of my hands only attached to the bike by fishing line. By a lot of fishing line. I grabbed one grip each with both of my hands and stretched my arms straight up and off to both sides until all the fishing line was extended, and tight. Which is when I realized that pedaling a bike in this position is impossible. How can I see where I'm going when I'm so focused on keeping the fishing line taut? How can I pick up speed with my arms in the air? I called it quits so I could find another bike. By the time I did, one race remained. In this one, every participant would be connected to each other by one giant piece of string tied to each of us. I arrived so late, however, that nobody told me we'd all be attached by a piece of string. So as I started to pedal, I feld an awkward tug and I noticed the string tied in a tiny knot to my shirt. "What the...?" I grabbed the string and ripped it off my shirt, which meant I could finally pedal faster. Unfortunately, it also meant I'd disqualified myself and everyone behind me for being disconnected. Then, I woke up. - - - - Had this dream last night.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Guest dreamer: my dad.

This dream comes to us from the brain of my dad:

"While the toddler version of my 25-year-old daughter Arleen drove my car, I tried to slam on the brakes from my spot in the back seat. I somehow managed to actually slam on the brakes from the back seat, but it was too late. We still tapped the back bumper of the car in front of us.

That car's driver got out and saw that we caused no damage. No biggie, he said, and he drove off. Arleen started to drive off, too, but the stoplight we approached turned yellow. From the back seat, I slammed on the brakes again and reached up to put the car in park. When I did, the trunk popped open. So I got out to close it and hurried back to take over Arleen's position in the driver's seat. But it was too late. The light turned green before I got to the front seat and Arleen started to drive.

Then, I woke up."

- - - -

Hahaha! My dad had this dream last night.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

I can't find my car.

I pulled up to a parking garage guarded by the Secret Service. Tired from my day of driving alone from Florida to D.C., I tried to find a place to park my car. After I did, I set off to the city on foot. I'd have to find Laurel, my best friend, who'd also driven to D.C. that day, but from North Carolina. We had plans to attend the new president's inauguration.

I walked.

And I walked.

And I walked some more.

When I couldn't find where the inauguration would take place, I walked back to the parking garage and approached the Secret Servicemen and women to ask for directions.

"We'll take you there," a couple of them said. So we walked through D.C., which looked a lot like a cross between a college campus and camp ground. We stopped at a mulch-covered, rope-surrounded parking lot. Just beyond it sat a building with a light on in the window and a crowd of people outside, many of whom I knew from high school, college and grad school.

"That's where you need to be," one of the Secret Serviceman said. "But we recommend that you move your car from the garage to this parking lot."

I resisted.

"We really recommend it," he said. "It only costs $2."

Fine, I thought. I'll move my car. The Secret Servicemen and women wandered away so I walked back to the parking garage alone. I walked inside, where I found a series of tunnels I didn't remember seeing when I'd parked. The first tunnel branched off into two at a fork. Those tunnels branched into three each. At the end of each tunnel, I had to choose from so many tunnels through which I should walk next in an effort to find my car. But I didn't recognize any of them. After walking forever and never finding my car, I realized I'd probably missed the inauguration.

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

Had this dream last night. I woke up really exasperated over the whole ordeal until I realized that a) it was a dream and b) I am in no way required to attend presidential inaugurations.