Thursday, September 13, 2007
I Need A Dream Interpreter......
You ever dream you were dreaming? I did. I woke up so disoriented I had to literally pinch myself to make sure I was there. It went something like this:
TFMCD and I were on a trip, staying in a hotel in.....somewhere. Some foreign country. She had already gone to the room, but for some reason I did not. When I did decide to go to the room, I didn't know the room number (Any of this sounding familiar?) I thought it was on the 12th floor, so I got on an elevator and punched the "12" button. The elevator whizzed right past my floor and opened on the 15th, so I got out. It was the hotel roof, complete with swimming pool, but I had to go down a rubber slide to reach the pool level. It was really cold, but several people were in the water anyway. There were a lot of British commandos standing around, all in fatigues and carrying weapons, but they were just hanging out. No matter where I turned, there was another commando yammering away war stories like Jonathan Higgins. Those dudes were everywhere. There was pretty nice buffet up there though, that reminded me of the grubfest on a cruise ship.
So, I sat on a ledge to call TFMCD on my cellphone and ask her what the hell room we were in. As I talked to her on the phone, I looked out across the city at night. It was quite pretty, especially the skyscraper across the way, which was showing cartoons on the wall, starring dinosaurs dressed in Shakespearean costumes. I headed back to the elevator lobby, and along the way met an interesting fellow who talked exactly like Tony Montana, dressed in a Beefeater outfit, and told me he was Cuban National and a professional lady's escort.
TFMCD had told me were in 1024, so I got back on the elevator, punched the "10" button, and headed down. Damn elevator went right past "10," went all the way to the lobby, and then refused to budge. So, I got off. The lobby was bustling, and much to my surprise, it was full daylight on the ground floor. I barely wedged my way into another elevator, where I found myself with a couple of businessmen talking about an environmental impact study they had to fudge to finish a construction project. I figured they were wealthy, so I looked at their shoes to verify it. Mine were better.
They got off, leaving me alone on the elevator, which once again whipped right by my floor and rapidly accelerated as it headed upwards. It went past "15," which I knew was the roof, then past "20," and even "30." I then noticed the elevator had windows, so I looked out. I was on a flying elevator that went around the city a couple of times at breakneck speed, while a recorded voice told me all about the sights. It was a cool trip.
The elevator made its way back into the building and stopped. Finally, I thought, I can get back to my room. But I'll be damned, there was no "10" button. Just as I was beginning to wonder if I was lost in elevator limbo forever, I woke up on the floor of our hotel room. I sat up and looked around. There was TFMCD, thank goodness, sitting up in bed and looking at me with a smile. But what the hell was I doing on the floor? How did I get here? And look, there's our granddaughter, Beemer....what's she doing in a hotel with us in a foreign country? Just as the cognitive dissonance began to turn my brain to gruel, I heard a grandfather clock play the "Ave Maria," then chime four times. What was a hotel room doing with a grandfather clock? One that sounds just like mine?
I shook my head a couple of times to clear it, and the next thing I knew, I was in my bed, in my bedroom, with TFMCD sleeping quietly beside me. Not surprisingly, it was 4:00AM.
What the hell was THAT?
No, I am not afraid of elevators. I don't want to be a British commando, or a Cuban Beefeater, and I have never in my life had even a millisecond's thought of dinosaurs dressed like Montagues and Capulets. Though there is a weird sort of Limey theme to this dream, I have no particular interest in or dislike of things British. I wouldn't mind squashing that Geico.com lizard, but that's about it.
Oh, and no, I did not eat spicy food last night, and had only one glass of Shiraz.
Anybody know a good dream interpreter?
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TFMCD and I were on a trip, staying in a hotel in.....somewhere. Some foreign country. She had already gone to the room, but for some reason I did not. When I did decide to go to the room, I didn't know the room number (Any of this sounding familiar?) I thought it was on the 12th floor, so I got on an elevator and punched the "12" button. The elevator whizzed right past my floor and opened on the 15th, so I got out. It was the hotel roof, complete with swimming pool, but I had to go down a rubber slide to reach the pool level. It was really cold, but several people were in the water anyway. There were a lot of British commandos standing around, all in fatigues and carrying weapons, but they were just hanging out. No matter where I turned, there was another commando yammering away war stories like Jonathan Higgins. Those dudes were everywhere. There was pretty nice buffet up there though, that reminded me of the grubfest on a cruise ship.
So, I sat on a ledge to call TFMCD on my cellphone and ask her what the hell room we were in. As I talked to her on the phone, I looked out across the city at night. It was quite pretty, especially the skyscraper across the way, which was showing cartoons on the wall, starring dinosaurs dressed in Shakespearean costumes. I headed back to the elevator lobby, and along the way met an interesting fellow who talked exactly like Tony Montana, dressed in a Beefeater outfit, and told me he was Cuban National and a professional lady's escort.
TFMCD had told me were in 1024, so I got back on the elevator, punched the "10" button, and headed down. Damn elevator went right past "10," went all the way to the lobby, and then refused to budge. So, I got off. The lobby was bustling, and much to my surprise, it was full daylight on the ground floor. I barely wedged my way into another elevator, where I found myself with a couple of businessmen talking about an environmental impact study they had to fudge to finish a construction project. I figured they were wealthy, so I looked at their shoes to verify it. Mine were better.
They got off, leaving me alone on the elevator, which once again whipped right by my floor and rapidly accelerated as it headed upwards. It went past "15," which I knew was the roof, then past "20," and even "30." I then noticed the elevator had windows, so I looked out. I was on a flying elevator that went around the city a couple of times at breakneck speed, while a recorded voice told me all about the sights. It was a cool trip.
The elevator made its way back into the building and stopped. Finally, I thought, I can get back to my room. But I'll be damned, there was no "10" button. Just as I was beginning to wonder if I was lost in elevator limbo forever, I woke up on the floor of our hotel room. I sat up and looked around. There was TFMCD, thank goodness, sitting up in bed and looking at me with a smile. But what the hell was I doing on the floor? How did I get here? And look, there's our granddaughter, Beemer....what's she doing in a hotel with us in a foreign country? Just as the cognitive dissonance began to turn my brain to gruel, I heard a grandfather clock play the "Ave Maria," then chime four times. What was a hotel room doing with a grandfather clock? One that sounds just like mine?
I shook my head a couple of times to clear it, and the next thing I knew, I was in my bed, in my bedroom, with TFMCD sleeping quietly beside me. Not surprisingly, it was 4:00AM.
What the hell was THAT?
No, I am not afraid of elevators. I don't want to be a British commando, or a Cuban Beefeater, and I have never in my life had even a millisecond's thought of dinosaurs dressed like Montagues and Capulets. Though there is a weird sort of Limey theme to this dream, I have no particular interest in or dislike of things British. I wouldn't mind squashing that Geico.com lizard, but that's about it.
Oh, and no, I did not eat spicy food last night, and had only one glass of Shiraz.
Anybody know a good dream interpreter?
