(no subject)
I had the strangest dream last night. I've been trying to trace the pathways of my subconscious to understand why the idea entered my head last night. It may be the simple fact that my father turned 60 on T Day and it is that which prompted me thinking about his mortality.
So, I was with my family and some of my friends, but at this point of the morning I can't exactly remember which of you were present, so let's just pretend that you were all there. We were moving one of you who shall not be named, due to my poor memory, into a new apartment. Furniture and boxes are strewn about and the mass of us are stumbling over all of this crap and one another. I have this feeling that I'm suppose to do something, but I can't figure out what that may be. I search the jabbering faces of the crowd around me and then I hear someone mention my father's name and then it hits me. I was suppose to pick him up and simultaneously I am concerned about his health. I started screaming "where's the phone?" "I need to call Dad!" I was exploding within my head in a panic and everyone around me only served to remain as obstacles. Their voices and bodies made me feel like a pinball bouncing internally and externally around the room. I finally unearthed the phone and managed to call his number. It wasn't their home number. I wish I could remember the number that I did call. That would be interesting to see if it was an old number that has been hidden away in my head to be retrieved in a moment of panic. So the phone rings several times and then I hear like this mall musac in the background and my Dad's barely audible broken voice. I can barely make out what he is saying so I scream out to "shut the fuck up!" I listen again and I know he said something, but now I can't remember what it was that he said, but I know that he is in trouble. I try to tell people around me that Dad needs help and we need to get over there now. I try to call 911, but now the phone has morphed into a device that my mind and hands cannot operate. This is how the dream ends. Me trying hopelessly to dial 911 as every fiber of my body uncontrollably shakes with my wails of frustration and sadness. I woke up and felt like someone stomped all over my body.
I wonder if this was a triptophan induced dream. I think it's time to stop eating turkey.
So, I was with my family and some of my friends, but at this point of the morning I can't exactly remember which of you were present, so let's just pretend that you were all there. We were moving one of you who shall not be named, due to my poor memory, into a new apartment. Furniture and boxes are strewn about and the mass of us are stumbling over all of this crap and one another. I have this feeling that I'm suppose to do something, but I can't figure out what that may be. I search the jabbering faces of the crowd around me and then I hear someone mention my father's name and then it hits me. I was suppose to pick him up and simultaneously I am concerned about his health. I started screaming "where's the phone?" "I need to call Dad!" I was exploding within my head in a panic and everyone around me only served to remain as obstacles. Their voices and bodies made me feel like a pinball bouncing internally and externally around the room. I finally unearthed the phone and managed to call his number. It wasn't their home number. I wish I could remember the number that I did call. That would be interesting to see if it was an old number that has been hidden away in my head to be retrieved in a moment of panic. So the phone rings several times and then I hear like this mall musac in the background and my Dad's barely audible broken voice. I can barely make out what he is saying so I scream out to "shut the fuck up!" I listen again and I know he said something, but now I can't remember what it was that he said, but I know that he is in trouble. I try to tell people around me that Dad needs help and we need to get over there now. I try to call 911, but now the phone has morphed into a device that my mind and hands cannot operate. This is how the dream ends. Me trying hopelessly to dial 911 as every fiber of my body uncontrollably shakes with my wails of frustration and sadness. I woke up and felt like someone stomped all over my body.
I wonder if this was a triptophan induced dream. I think it's time to stop eating turkey.