Thursday, December 8, 2011

The Ugly Gold Mirror & Babies Floating in Tropical Water

I'm at my sister's new place in Queen Anne. It's a tiny place, a little over 700 feet, only two rooms separated by an arched doorway. The walls are soft white. The lights are off, but it's day time and the direction her bay windows are facing let a dim, almost dusk-like illumination.
I'm standing in her closet. (Her real closet is long and shallow, but in my dream, it's actually my walk-in closet at my place.
I'm crouched down, almost like I'm "owling" (haha) just to the right of the doorway.
Her gold framed mirror (dimensions 2' x 1' approximately) is leaning, vertically against the wall in front of me.
It's sturdy against the wall and there really is no way for it to tip over, but I've got like a death grip on it (just to make sure).
I think this mirror is hideous and I'm hoping I can stay in here and hide it but I know she'll discover me and her prized mirror, crouched down in her/my closet.

There is someone in the room with us. It is a female, but I don't exactly recognize the voice and I can't see her. They're talking, and even though I'm only few feet away, I can't make out what they are saying. The sound of the other woman's voice makes me visualize her as mid-twenties/early thirties and I picture her with an average frame with long, straw colored hair. She is wearing it in a low pony tail which is carefully threaded through the hole in the back of a light blue (actually, not light, not dark. More of a "corn flower" is my best guess.

Time Travel

Two women are talking behind me. Just above a whisper. I have to keep very still in order to eavesdrop their conversation.They're talking about a big boat, (almost cruise ship big) sinking. Sinking into the crystal blue waters of the Caribbean Ocean.

Time Travel

I'm not in the water, but I can feel the waves rippling beneath me. It's almost like I'm sitting just above the water. I'm bobbing up and down casually although I'm dry. It's as if some force from the ocean is moving my body above the slightly moving liquid. I start to feel the water splash my toes. It's cold at first but as I sink down, my skin begins to adjust to the slightly cooler temperature of the air I've been hovering in.

I see heads bobbing around me. Live heads. Not panicking, just floating with their chins just below the surface. There is about 10 or so, the closest being about four feet from me and the furthest around thirty feet. They are spread about three to four feel apart from each other too and I can see their arms moving slowly under the surface, helping keep them afloat.

Time Travel

I'm bobbing now too. Chin just below the surface, pencil eraser size droplets splashing my cheeks and forehead.
The scenery has changed to more of a jungle, but the water stays the same tropical color. I can see two women standing on the shore which is about fifty or so feet away. They are talking at a normal volume but I can hear their voices as if I'm right beside them.
They are talking about how they recently saw a panther. I picture it , black shiny coat, stalky, muscular shoulders pacing the shore. Green eyes surveying the floating heads with an aggressive hint of curiosity.
One of the women says something about the panther rescuing the bobbing women, she says it so casually  and I'm shocked. I know she's lying and I visualize torn limbs moving in the current below my toes.

Times Travel

There are babies floating now. Struggling to stay on top of the water. The the ones that are close enough to the dead and dying, dismembered women are trying desperately to cling to what is left of their bodies.

Then I wake up.

Cedric and I Eating Chocolate in Bed While Matt Works

I'm standing at my desk when I notice that Debbie is talking to a couple in their 50s or so. He has olive colored skin (almost leathery) and liver spots on the silver cul de sac on his head.
I walk up behind Debbie (facing the clearance stage, by the Scorpion Helmets) and without excusing myself into the conversation, I just say, "I've been working with them." Very plainly.
I'm lying.
She looks (slightly) annoyed but says in a surprised tone, "Oh, okay, well here you go!" and smiles and walks away.
So I think that the gentleman wants a thin 1/2 shell helmet with a sun visor so I grab the Vega book.
I'm holding it open for the customer, flipping pages, feeling frustrated because I know exactly what I'm looking for. (I've done this for years!!)
I say, "What the heck? It's in here somewhere." and I keep flipping.
Then I remember the helmet I'm looking for is a Gmax and is in the WPS catalog. I grab the huge book and it hits the counter with a thud.

Time Travel

I'm laying in a big, white feather bed behind the parts counter to the far end on the left. The bed is about a foot or so below the level of the counter so I can see some miscellaneous clutter on the vintage home made shelving. There are a few tattered cardboard boxes with nick nacks., extra pens, a paperclip occasionally. There is a lot of dust. (This basically describes, perfectly, what is behind the parts counter in real life).

So, I'm laying in the big feather bed on my stomach. I don't have a shirt on and I can feel the cool fabric on my chest. I try kind of half-heartedly to keep my breasts covered as I talk to Matt who's on the center computer, just plugging away, entering part numbers for orders.

He looks over sporadically and I pretend to struggle to cover  my nakedness. I know he can see just the tops of my nipples and the white down blanket is rubbing them and they are not fully rigid, but definitely firm.

I suddenly turn to my right and under the parts counter, just below the second to last computer on the counter, there is a weathered cardboard box, probably from the late 80s, early 90s (I wouldn't be surprised if some of the boxes were that old in real life) and it's filled with triangular foil wrapped chocolates. The bright orange-gold (as opposed to yellow gold) is shaped like a wedge of cheese. A long stretched angular shape.

I grab one and have trouble upwrapping it. I try to drag my fingers along the foil, hoping to catch a small seam and pull the cover off revealing my treasured treat.

I put it in my mouth, and don't chew it. I roll it around in my mouth and feel it melt between the roof of my mouth and my tongue. It's my favorite kind of chocolate: super creamy milk. Melts almost immediately once it moves past your lips.

Cedric and I are  moving around, adjusting the blankets around us but being courteous as to not expose each other.

Then I wake up.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

The Big Pink Berry and the Mystery Insect

I'm driving on Chuckanut heading West. The strawberry and raspberry fields on either side are glowing pink with the sun.
I'm driving in my car but I'm sitting like I'm on a motorcycle. I'm kind of floating (maybe the seats have been removed--I can't see below me) in the center of the car. My body position is very aggressive, I'm tucked as if I'm trying to achieve as much speed as I can with the least amount of wind resistance.

I'm riding into the sunset.

Time Travel

I'm walking down a dirt road. There are two men behind me talking nonsense, nothing is clearly enunciated, its more of a low growl/mumble. The give off the impression of "doers", they are workers, not thinkers.
They are stocky and strong and I feel protected by them. The trail begins to fade into the forest and various green "northwestern-like" bushes and trees lay tangled across the path. The branches remind me of Alder trees: their bark is white and thin with horizontal grey hash marks. As the trail starts to disappear, I feel the branches lightly grazing my skin and tangling my hair.
There are berry bushes to my left. They remind me of Salmon Berry bushes (big light green leaves with small thorns).
All of a sudden (totally random) there is a little girl behind me (she's 6 or 7). I don't immediately turn to see her buy I can hear her voice and it gives me a general impression.
She wants me to pick a berry for her because she's too small to reach. The berry bushes are not dense, I can see a giant pink berry (it's about the size of my fist and resembles a raspberry but it's a really light pink, almost transparent) hanging, dangling on a large stem, about two and a half feet from the edge of bush.
There is plenty of room for me to weasel my arm through the thorns if I'm careful.
I reach towards the berry and even though I think my movements are calculated enough, I keep getting thorns stuck to my skin. Every time I try to get the berry, I get pricked and have to remove my arm.
I glance behind me (to my right--the girl is still on my left) and see the two men trying to clear the pathway. They are grabbing the thin white branches and breaking them. They are trying to push the broken branches down to the ground, hoping they would catch other branches and keep them from springing back up.
I turn around and look at the berry again. Same situation: I grab, get pricked, and pull out. This probably happens two or three more times before I decide it's MY berry, not the little girl's.
I finally reach it and grab it just barely with my fingertips and as I pull it towards me, the little girls screams, "Oh my god!! That's the biggest spider I've ever seen!!"
I look down and catch a glimpse of large, brown, hairy legs and I scream and drop my prized, juicy, apple-sized, glistening, pink berry on the damp orange and brown leaves. It rolls lazily as if following the spider behind a large rock (approximately the size of two shoe boxes stacked).
The little girl takes off running behind me as the creature comes into view around the right side of the rock. I can hear her stomping footprints fading as I look down, fearful in anticipation.
It kind of "chatters" around the corner and I realize, it's not a spider. It looks more like a cock roach, or a brown beetle. It's about the size of a shoe, a size 8. It has large, moth-colored, folded wings on its back. It gives me the chills, but it's definitely not as scary as a shoe-sized spider.
I'm just looking down, watching it skitter across the wet leaves.

Then I wake up.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Ice Cream with 6 Ladies & Cops on a Boat

I'm in Anacortes. There are cops everywhere.
There are three cops dealing with me specifically regarding a boat.

I'm looking at (or thinking about) the boat. I'm looking at the main cabin door. It's slatted like window shutters. Dry, ocean-aged wood that looks like at one time it may have been a glossy oak. There is a round "porthole" window at eye level. The window is framed with shiny gold (or brass) metal and the sun is reflecting and making me squint my right eye.
The exterior of the boat is mainly white with evergreen colored trim and gold fixtures.

Inside the boat the walls are painted glossy white slats. Vertical lines from floor to about belly button height. Above the white wood, the walls are an eggshell finished navy blue. The contrasting colors are very "nautical".

There is a kitchen about 8 feet from the entryway on the right. The cabinets and walls and floor are a glossy maple.

Immediately to the left of the entry, there is a large dark cherry wood table. Probably 6 x 6 and 5" thick. Just the tabletop looks like it weighs 500-600 pounds.
There are three middle aged women (chin-length bobs, "cheater" glasses) seated against the wall. I sit across from them.
There is a white ceramic bowl in front of me with some almost melted vanilla ice cream. I'm tipping the bowl towards my chest and scooping the last few drops onto my cold spoon. I put the spoon in my mouth and I can taste both the ice cream and the metal.

To my left there is a wall divider. It is just like the main cabin door: shutter-like. I run my fingers along the slats and they are small, like toothpicks...(totally random size-change). The toothpicks roll slightly as I move my right index finger up and down. They are a little rough. I can see little tiny splinters fraying.

There is a woman standing to my left, beside the table. She is short (5'2" or so), she has copper colored skin and long black, dry hair.
She is wearing a teal men's tee shirt over her bra-less, cone-shaped breasts. She has wrinkled, khaki shorts that are hemmed about a quarter inch above her lumpy, almond colored knees. She has ratty white tennis shoes that look like they've seen a beach hike or two. There is tropical colored sand crusted around the sole.

Around three sides of the table there is a dark cherry wood wall. It has the three girls trapped in the small enclosure. The only escape would be for them to climb under the table or over one another.
The wall on my left can be moved. It slides easily open like a large wooden door. Kind of like a hidden bookcase pathway.

Time Travel

There are six non-descriminate women sitting across from me now. They are crammed on the small bench seat against the moveable wall, which has been closed tightly
The little copper-colored woman is standing alone on the other side of the wall. She's facing it, raising herself onto her toes to try and look over it.
She really wants in. Wants to be accepted, but the other girls don't want to let her in. There's just no room for one more. I feel bad for her so I adjust the wall again and allow her to force her way into the group. The other girls, not hiding their annoyance, slide over.

There is a lot of commotion going on behind me. The house boat starts to change. I'm still seated at the table but when I turn around I see the far wall of the kitchen is now gone and a busy sidewalk is visible. Slanted slightly downhill from left to right, the kind of hill that makes your feet "clomp" when you walk down it. It reminds me of a small section of street that leads up to the revetment beside the Skagit River in Mount Vernon.

Along the sidewalk there are little shops with big glass windows showcasing their most treasured items. Things like vintage living room displays; old fashioned designed, ornate couches, a distressed coffee table with random trinkets sprinkled on top, a large vase beside the couch with dried pussy willow branches, a white wooden chair with flaking cream colored paint is to the left of the couch.

The sidewalk is covered and there are unique wooden signs hung on delicate gold-colored chains. The signs are carved and painted by hand. They swing casually in the light, warm breeze.
The sidewalk reminds me of downtown Mount Vernon between I-5 and the revetment.

Time Travel

I'm walking up the hill now and the windows are on my right. It is sunny and there is only a slight wind, just enough to rustle a tee shirt sleeve.

There are three guys (I think they're cops, city cops, the ones that wear the deep blue uniform). They seem super hurried and stressed and they are pacing in all directions. I am very interested in what a specific dark-haired, stocky one is doing. I'm pacing behind him, hoping her'll tell me what is making them all uneasy. I'm feeling stressed now.

No one talks in the dream. There is just a lot a confusion and chaos.

Time Travel

I am speeding in a car (reminds me of my old Honda Accord ) towards the round-a-bout in Anacortes. I think I'm traveling too fast to complete the 180 degree left turn and I tense up as I begin rotating the wheel.
I make it! I"m on Highway 20 headed out of town.

Then I wake up.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Molly Eats Frosted Mini-Wheats & Austin's Backwards Karate Outfit

I'm in the living room.I close the sliding glass door and then open it again about 4 or 5 inches.
I hear a chomping/crunching sound and I turn around and see that Molly is perched on the bar separating the two rooms. She's eating something out of a Frosted Flake "Tony the Tiger" bowl (I got for Christmas a few years ago from Austin's mom).
I can't quite see what she's eating...It's like I'm sitting on the floor or something and I'm looking up so I can see the top of her ears just barely shaking above the rim of the plastic bowl.
My vision slowly raises up and I can see that she's eating Mini-Wheats. She's eating greedily, guarding her cereal with intense eye contact and low ears.

I hear Austin's footsteps coming up the stairs and shuffle a little outside the front door. I peek around the corner and start to walk towards the entryway.
Austin comes through the door loudly.
He is wearing a white karate "gi". It's all wrinkled and the red belt around his waist is tied loosely and the left side is hanging lower than the right over his hips.
He's mad. He paces around the living room.
I ask him if he's okay.

Time Travel

His gi is on backwards now (like a Snuggy).

A large picture of a red sun...(maybe the Japanese flag??) Something relating to Japanese art.

He says, "My dad has been stealing money from me!"

I'm shocked. He tells me that when he was filling out the credit app. for his motorcycle (The BMW we looked at) and Anthony (G.M. @ Ride Motorsports) told him he only has $100 in his account.
He tells me he checked his bank statement online and there were three $400 withdrawls. I says, "He stole $1100 from me!" (I realize he's made a mathematical mistake, but I don't correct him).
He's huffing and puffing and pacing around the living room. He has his arms crossed over his chest and his hands are tight fists. He's almost marching angrily in counterclockwise circles.

I turn and watch Molly munch her Mini-Wheats. I look down at the floor and there are three litter boxes where there are two (in reality)

I ask Austin if he fed the cats today.

Then I woke up.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Cam's Truck, Sue's Parking & Austin's Wet Shirt

I'm in the passenger seat in Cameron's truck.His big, beautiful, spotless, white truck. Sue is driving. We're pulling into her driveway and her daughter Zareen's car is parked crooked with the nose facing diagonally towards the right of the garage. I don't think there's enough room but Sue's parked here many times and she is sure it'll fit.
She flies into the garage. So fast I'm sure we'll crash through the wall into the stairwell that leads down to the family room.
We're extremely wedged between Zareen's champagne colored late-90s Chevy Suburban and a "cherry picker" (think that holds motors when you need to work on them outside the car. Also, I have never met Cameron's sister, but I've heard about her a little. I have no idea what car she drives but I highly doubt it's a Suburban)
Sue is determined to close the automatic door with both vehicles inside so she slowly presses the accelerator until the soft, pristinlely painted right corner of the truck is touching a sharp, badly weathered, paint-chipped corner of the cherry picker.
For a moment, I see the car from the outside. The collision is dramatic.I see the tired, mechanical corner digging into the white paint on the bumper, in slow-motion, watching the tiny paint flakes and metal shards fly in the air like an explosion.

Time Travel

Austin is standing in front of Sue and Cam's house in the street. There is a large, old oak tree growing through the asphalt. The street isn't disturbed or broken, it's as if the tree grew there naturally, a soft transition in nature.
He's having an absolute fit about something. He's wearing a plain, white tee shirt and his arms are crossed at his chest, literally stomping/marching around the tree. Red with anger. Reminds me of a child's tantrum.

Time Travel

Austin has his shirt off. He is holding the white shirt in the air and screaming about how his shirt got wet somehow.
He reaches up to the tree and breaks off a large, leafless branch about 4 feet long and thick enough that he can't get his hand all the way around.
He tosses the shirt on the branch and tries clumsily to straighten and spread it out and begins to wave it like a surrender flag around the base of the tree. His expression has gone from complete and utter rage to a little shy and embarrassed. His cheeks have changed from an angry red to a more soft and innocent pink.

Time Travel

All four of us are in the truck. Sue is driving, Cam's in the seat beside her and Austin and I are seated in the back: I'm behind Sue.
She is holding the tee shirt down near her feet on the left side of the steering wheel and she gets a little frustrated and says, "This is a really bad angle for me, my back hurts." She hands me the shirt in a damp wad.
There is a heater in the middle console facing us and I've got mine pretty high and with pretty good force blowing in my face. I move the direction of the slats of the vent, open the shirt as far as I can so expose as much surface area and dry it quickly. The heater is HOT but I let is burn my legs while I dry his shirt.

Then I wake up.

Monday, October 3, 2011

White House on the Cliff and Defending the Cheese

I'm driving at night through on what reminds me of Burlington Blvd.: Well lit streets, light reflecting off of wet asphalt. The road is new so the yellow and white lines on either side of me are bright. It feels like I'm just coming off of Northbound Riverside Dr. which runs parallel to I-5. The road comes to a slope as I come off the bridge. The new stores that are there now are not in my dream: the Best Buy, the Home Depot, the Sportsman's Den just to name a few, aren't there. It's just me, driving alone heading North.
 I feel serious anxiety. I feel like if I'm caught driving around in the middle of the night, my parents will get mad at me.
As I drive, surroundings become less well lit and more small town-ish. It reminds me of Ephrata, WA. There are one or two yellow streetlights that cast a dim glow over all of the vacant store-fronts. Large windows with nothing but emptiness behind them.
The sun starts to come up as I drive further away from civilization. The road which started in a damp Burlington and went through a ghostly Ephrata has taken me to a lonely stretch of dry pavement. Reminds me of I-90 East: wheat fields on either side of me.
Time Travel
I'm at a dead end. There is only one option and that is for me to turn right on to a dirt road. Dry dirt (like Eastern Washington) with rocky pot holes that are impossible to maneuver around.
Time Travel
I'm driving on grass, headed towards a cliff edge. The ground gradually slopes down and a few green blades  hang over the edge. I am seeing the cliff from the side now, briefly, with the shear drop to my left.
Time Travel
I'm standing facing the cliff again and I look down and there is a black, long sleeve wool (or angora, the kind that looks soft and whispy) sweater laying neatly on the ground. It's on a light blue plastic hanger and looks as though someone just took it out of a closet and gently laid it there.
The collar of the sweater with the hook is facing me, if I picked it up it would hang properly with the hanger hooking to the left.
I stare down at the sweater and notice there is a small piece of white cheese (I ate a cheese stick before bed). The piece is perfectly square: about 1" x 1" and 0.5" thick and sits in between the front and back collar (where the tag would be, but about an inch below that). The sunlight reflects just enough to give the skin a creamy sheen.
I want to eat it, but I hesitate. I think I have to save it for a special occasion.
Time Travel
I'm at a fruit stand (reminds me of the one on 99 across from O'Finnigan's near Lincoln Way by my house). With my back facing 99, I'm talking to a man wearing a white collared shirt and starched and pressed khaki slacks with square toed, milk chocolate colored shoes. (Basically like the man in my last dream, but in more neutral colors. He reminds me of the man in the picture I used as a visual aid in my recently posted "Skanky Housekeeping" dream entry).
I am facing him as though were talking, and maybe he is, I'm not sure. I'm preoccupied with the way the yellow canopy is casting a glow over the cantaloupes directly behind him. I steal quick glances to his left as I admire them.
Time Travel
I'm back on the cliff again. The man is with me. I can't see him but I can sense he's there. I'm facing North with the cliff to my right. The sweater and cheese are still there beside me. There is a beautiful white house in the distance: two story, with three windows with black shutters on each floor facing me. The roof is light brown and rounded near the edges (think cottage roofs).
I am a pretty good distance away: it remind me of the space between the dirt road and the Lamb's house (a really creepy large white house on Decatur Island with creepier people living inside).
I look away from the house and down at the sweater and the cheese looks very appetizing. I can imagine the way the shape would feel against my tongue and cheek, the way the temperature would be chilled but not cold, the slippery skin and gently 'pop' as my molars bite down on the right side of my mouth. I want to eat it so bad but I can't. It needs to be saved for a special occasion.
Time Travel
I'm standing in a town that reminds me of an old west movie. I'm facing an old general store front or a saloon: the grey-ish wooden swinging double doors are positioned over a weathered wood porch.
I feel like I'm on a mission. I have something I need to accomplish before I can return to the cliff and claim the house for my own.
Time Travel
I'm traveling back towards the house. Heading West. I'm in some sort of old west transport: either a steam train or a horse-drawn carriage. I'm moving fast, evident by which the amber wheat fields are moving past my window. The navy blue curtains with cream colored lace edges are shaking with movement.
All I can think about is hurrying back to the cliff to stop some girl from eating the cheese and taking the white house for herself.
Time Travel
I'm walking towards the cliff and I see the girl, a blond wearing a pink long sleeve shirt, reaching down towards the square of cheese. I run and slide (homerun style) into the sweater and knock the cheese out of her hand.
Then I wake up.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Alyssa is "The Girl"

When I was 21 or 22, I was having a "sleepover" at my friend Marshall's house.
In the middle of the night, as we were sleeping, the door flew open and the lights slammed on and some crazy chick started screaming at him about who knows what.
I am legally blind (without my glasses or contacts) and since I can't defend myself if I can't see, I scurried under the blanket and curled up in fetal position. Just as my little head went under the covers, a camera or cellphone, or something hit the wall above my head and broke.

I'm standing at my desk, like I do every morning, and Alyssa is over at the reception counter. We're talking about normal things and somehow, the little scenario I've described above comes up in our conversation. So I'm giggling as I'm telling her all the details (because, looking back on it now, it's pretty hilarious) and she is smiling and laughing too and then she says, totally serious, "That was me."
My chin drops to the desk and my eyes get wide, "Whaaaaa...??"
She's all, "I was dating him for a little over a year and one night I decide to come over and surprise him and there's a girl in his bed."
I'm like, "Ohhhh myyyyy Godddd.....That was me!"
Then we laugh hysterically.
Then I feel kinda bad. A year? Ouch. I feel really bad for her.
I tell her I'm sorry and she says, "It's coooool." and gives me a little Alyssa smile.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Skanky Housecleaning and Goldwingers

I've recently been toying with the idea of cleaning/organizing houses during the off-season. Last winter I worked in a bar (not really my style). Apparently, this is who is "training" me in the fine art of scrubbin' floors.

I am standing in front of a tall, slender, pale girl with long straight dark brown hair. She's beautiful. (Skanky-beautiful).
She's wearing a white one piece mini skirt dress that looks like a "naughty  nurse" costume that is two sizes too small for her, the fabric is pulled so tight it's nearly transparent. She can't close the top around her large fake breasts.

She's wearing thigh-high blue and gray argyle stockings with a black garter belt and shiny black stripper heels. She is looking through black-rimmed eyeglasses and has her hair up in a claw clip.
Her legs are long and slender and they make me more aware of my shorter physique.

Time Travel

I now have the "uniform" on (the white nurse/housecleaning dress). My outfit fits me better than the girl who is training me.
I'm wearing one of my semi-transparent button up sweaters that I wear over tanktops at work when it's hot out (I can't show my tattoos). I ask the girl what she thinks out me showing my tattoos to the clients. She says I should "feel each client out to see if they offend them."

Time Travel

I'm on my hands and knees on a white tile floor in a large, lavish, chandelier-lit entryway. I'm scrubbing the tiles vigorously . My sweater is on.
There is a man dressed in a white collar button down and black slacks with black shiny, square toed shoes standing about 15 feet behind me. Watching me work.

Time Travel
I'm walking into work through the back door in the service department (where I always come in) and I wave to the "Goldwingers" in the customer lounge. (I come in everyday and wave to the old men in the room.)
I'm wearing the naughty nurse/housekeeper outfit.

I look through the window and see a pretty sexy man in his late 20s or early 30s. He's got pale skin, dark brown short spiked hair and piercing blue eyes. (He looks like a man named Chad, a customer of mine with whom I've had quite an extensive retail history).

I lock eyes with him as I make my way  past the window and as I walk around the corner into the room, I feel embarrassed to be wearing something so scandalous in front of my elderly friends.
I walk into the room and "Chad " is kneeling in front of me, looking up.

Then I wake up.

Playing Fetch with Chris Johnson and Paranormal Activity

I'm on a beach. The sand is white and pristine. The water is crystal blue with just a thin line of white foam separating the two.
I'm standing with my back to the water and Chris Johnson is facing me. He's holding an overly large tennis racket in his left hand and a bright tennis ball in his right.
I look at my hands and I've got a racket too.
He serves the ball gently. Lobs it to me. He's kind of far away (think half of a football field). He hits it and I try my best to return the fuzzy yellow ball but I miss and it flies behind me into the blue water.
It travels farther than it would normally (In real life) and I have to really chase it. I'm quickly jogging through the water which has no resistance. I finally get to the ball and turn to go back to shore and the ocean floor feels more like mud than the sand that was under my feet before. I look down and the water has turned murky but I can still see the floor. It looks exactly like Clear Lake.
I'm walking and my feet clumsily stumble on the slick water-weathered sticks and rocks just under the mud and milfoil. The water is waist level and is proportionate to my distance to the beach.
Chris hits the ball several times and each time I miss and have to wade out and retrieve it. It reminds me of a dog. A golden retriever.
Time Travel
I'm standing at the wall facing the bed from Paranormal Activity (exactly the position where the camera is in the movie). All of the room's characteristics are identical: the dim, warm lamp light reflecting off the maple colored wood floor.I'm watching them talk to each other. There is a golden retriever by the door and Kate is petting him, leaning far off the high bed.
Suddenly the dog bolts from the room and I can hear his nails slipping on the wood as he sprints fearlessly down the stairs.
I hear a loud SLAM and the dog screams.
Time Travel
I'm back on the beach. I'm in a hut/shed/shack. The walls are seasoned wood and there is no glass in the square window facing South. There is sand on the floor. I look down and see my painted toenails  with tiny bits of sand around my cuticles.
There is a kid (probably 19 or 20) and he's wearing a Shift trucker hat (one that Austin had on earlier in the day) and a light gray One. Industries shirt with a high visibility logo on the chest.
He's standing to the right of me near the glassless window.
Austin is in some sort of a water competition: Wakeboarding or something. (Not 100% sure).
I can hear the announcer reading off names from a significant distance away. The kid and I are talking and he has a very condescending tone. He makes me feel like I'm not welcome. I think to myself, "I'm too old to be here."
Then I wake up.

Bury My Bicycle and Slangin' Motorclothes in Italy

I'm in the Panda Express parking lot on 164th St.on the East side of I-5 in Lynnwood. I've got my bicycle and even though the kickstand is down, I can't get it to stay upright. It just keeps falling over.
An older woman (someone who came into my store yesterday) comes over and starts to try to help me by giving me "tips".
She's wearing a white Scorpion jacket (like yesterday) and holding a helmet.
We decide that the only way to keep the bike upright is to dig a hold where the kickstand is so it can be lower. We start digging. Through the asphalt and into dark brown, gravely, moist dirt. We are digging with our hands and I can feel the cold mud between my fingers and under my nails.
I stop several times to check to see if the bike will stand on it's own and can't seem to get the right angle. I keep digging deeper until the hole is about 3 feet deep and I just set the bike in the hole.
Time Travel
I'm helping  two ladies in my store get some gear. They already have bikes and gear but they say they like me so much, they'll buy more.
We're in a room with yellow walls and a white tile floor and we're just talking about random motorcycle stuff when Chase walks up and asks me, "How's the bike deal going?"
"No one told me this was a bike deal, Chase."
I'm mad.
"No one introduced me to them and there was no "customer path."
(When I worked at Harley, we had a very organized system in which a new bike owner would be walked to each department: Apparel, Parts and Service and would be introduced to someone as a "contact" in their department. Brilliant!!! Not so much at EPS, although I've mentioned it a handful of times.)
Kim Boltz is sitting against the wall on the tile floor and she says, "There never was a good working "customer path" and "people would always 'fuck it up'"
Chase and Thad are annoyed and that makes me even more pissed.
Time Travel
I'm in some sort of city, reminds me of Italy. There are cobblestone streets and stone buildings with awnings jutting out over little round tables near the curb.
I'm sitting on the back of a motorcycle and my friend Marshall is driving. Justin Cayou is walking in the street towards us and he waves us to a stop. I introduce him to Marshall, telling Justin HIS name is Justin too.
We start riding. We make a tight right turn and head down a very narrow alleyway.
Time Travel
I'm driving a car now. Same location. There are two people in the car with me (not sure who, I never see them, I can just sense them.)
We come to an impossibly tight right turn and I know I can't make it around but I try anyways.
I'm inching (literally) back and forth until I'm completely stuck.
Time Travel
Marshall, Alyssa and I are leaning up against a bar that sits above a candy shop. Mike Leibold is there and he's holding a rectangle plastic container with pastel colored marshmallow candies on sticks (like lollipops). He offers Alyssa and I one and clearly hesitates to give one to Marshall. After an uncomfortable few seconds of silence he relents and says to him, "What color do you want?" and he holds out his hand where there are three orange slice shaped gummy candies: Red, Purple and Green. I reach for the red one but I know that Alyssa would want that one so I take the purple one and Marshall takes the green one.
Then  I wake up.

Amazing White Deck and Austin with the Babies

I'm walking around an empty house. It feels like someone is giving me a tour, like there's someone watching me from as I walk from room to room. The floors are a glossy maple color.
I walk toward a window. The sun is shining brightly through the glass and the floor has a golden glow. I walk in slow motion.
Time Travel
I'm outside on a deck. There is a crossed trellis above my head with grape vines threaded through the sunshine lit diamond cutouts. The light shining through the purple grapes makes them almost transparent.
Austin is there, standing in front of me. There are crying, crawling babies wearing nothing but white diapers. They look almost mechanical, like crawling dolls.
I say, "You Ok?" and he responds with a very confident "Yeah, I'm cool."
All I can see is crying, diapered babies. Crawling in circles at his feet.
Time Travel
I'm on the deck still, and I ask Austin if he knows how to change diapers and he goes, "Yeah." I then respond with, "Just make sure you wipe the girls front to back so you don't get poop where it shouldn't be."
Then I wake up.