"And the devil will drag you under, by the sharp lapel on your checkered coat.."
This morning I woke up, ate 2 (two) nectarines in quick succession, read the play No Exit, and promptly fell back to sleep. The dream I had was awesome, or felt awesome at least (I can't remember laughing so hard in a dream that I woke up before), though in the telling I'm not so sure how entertaining it will sound:
I was in Meijer. Not to start actually,it's so funny how you have to work backwards to remember dreams. Actually I was on an acquaintance's porch. (Craig is a boy I used to work with at the pharmacy. And who was pretty god damned rude all the time and would snicker to himself - that just-not-able-to-contain-myself kind of snickering - whenever someone got a prescription for viagra. (Viagara Falls)).
If I'm ever elected president, my first act of business as the nation's new leader will be to legally change all the capitals of our great fifty united states to the cities with the funniest sounding names. Hoboken. Strongsville. You get it.
If I ever work at a pizza place my first act of business will be to make sure that the pizzas are cut all the fucking way through, because it's the most annoying and terrible and awkward thing to try and take a first slice of pizza, in-edibly hot - but you're hungry, so you take it - and it's stuck to all the other pieces and you look like a fool trying to separate them. So I guess you could say I'm for segregation. Not differentiating between KINDS of pizza:
(Food Lover's pizza Vs. Food Hater's pizza. I can imagine the ad going something like this. A man walks into a restaurant, the camera work is terrible, and he says "I hate food."
"Well then we have a pizza for you!" replies the enthusiastic server, and the pizza she delivers to the table is topped with assorted telephone parts, shattered cd fragments and Comet.)
But segregation on individual levels. Every piece of pizza will have it's own water fountain.
So anyway I'm on Craig's porch, and a football game is just ending, and kids are streaming down the streets of bowling green. Two of Craig's friends pass by, a boy and a girl I've never met before. Craig becomes involved in conversation with the boy, and I start talking with the girl. She is holding a trial size box of S'mores Pop Tarts, eating one while we talk, with three left inside. It's my favorite kind of poptart. (In tenth grade I ran into a boy I had a crush on in the breakfast food aisle of Meijer, and he was buying these self-same pop tarts. I decided then that we were soulmates. I used to be an illogical romantic in my head, though not in action.)
So anyway, she's got this box that contains 4 poptarts, and she's eating one. I take the box, put it on the ground, AND STEP ON IT.
FOR NO REASON.
I laugh a little to myself and say casually "Wow, that was pretty mean of me, wasn't it?" and start to refashion the poptarts from their now ruined/smushed state into likenesses of their original form. I start to actually feel remorse, but don't know how to say I'm sorry to the girl when I obviously smushed them on purpose.
I earnestly offer to take her to meijer to buy more, but she declines. I help her load her pop tarts and a bunch of schoolwork she'd been carrying into a wagon, and she departs with her friend. SUDDENLY:
I am in Meijer. I'm with an italian man, maybe forty years old, helping him shop for an upcoming dinner party. He tells me to go find some high proof vodka. I go to the batteries and photo section, because that is where I remember the hard liquor to be. There's a half empty, opened bottle in the "K" section of photo pickup. Because there isn't much left, I go to the homemaker's aisle and open a set of really nice glassware and pour myself a huge cup. The store is relatively busy, it's about 10 pm at night, but I'm sure that no one is on to me because it just looks like I'm drinking a glass of water. However I am, with my other hand, tightly gripping the bottle of vodka, clearly labeled. Brian, who has just started working as one of the managers, (AT MEIJER, which is funny in itself if you know Brian) taps me on the shoulder and gives me a knowing look, glancing from the bottle to the glass and raising his eyebrows. But then he just starts laughing and waves me on.
I decided to pour the Italian man a glass as well, seeing as how there was a little liquor left. In the Halloween section I find a half empty fast food soda cup someone has carelessly discarded. I pour the remaining pop into a bin of clearance costumes and masks, then laugh at myself for being so terrible as to ruin all that merchandise. I specifically remember thinking the word "merchandise." Then I pour the vodka into the cup and put the lid and straw back on. I go to the back of the store, where he's standing next to the bulk food bins. He laughs at me as I explain that this is all I could find, pointing up at the top of the bulk food. And there is exactly what he wants, at least 30 pristine bottles.
"But how, exactly, do you recommend we get it - all the way up there?" He tells me to climb. So I do - at least 15 feet up over the gourmet dog bones and brach's candy, but at the tip-top there are packages and packages wafers. You know, those long rectangle cookies that no one really cares enough to buy, but which aren't all that bad. And I lose my footing on them, and SUDDENLY THE WAFERS ARE REALLY FUCKING HUGE, the size of planks, and there are hundreds of them, and I send them all cascading down. Everyone in Meijer (including Brian, who is a manager remember) kind of drops what they're doing and comes running, but not to gawk or clean up. Instead to RIDE THE WAVE OF WAFERS with me. Little kids and adults and elderly people, we're all having tremendous fun riding this wave of wafers.
And they smash into a bunch of shopping carts all pushed together in a train, and everyone climbs on the shopping carts and the momentum carries us 30 good feet before we slam into an obstacle - some bread display. The carts hit it, whip around, and though it goes against the laws of physics - continue on in a new direction, backwards. This goes on for 10 minutes, crashing and jumping from cart to cart and moving at breakneck speed. Until finally 3 people jump from a moving cart and land on a fruit display, completely destroying it. Everyone stops and kind of mills about happily.
And Brian, who was riding the carts with all the rest of us, comes laughing into the semi-circle we've inadvertantly formed - not to chastize us, but seemingly to give us a pep talk. He has a plastic bag that you use for putting fruit in and tying it off and weighing it, and I think there are peanuts in it. A little 5 year old kid comes running up, still excited from all the wildness and eagerly tries to see what is inside the bag. For some reason Brian gets flustered and tells the kid to "mind [his] own business and find [his] mom," and it's hilarious that with all of the destruction and havoc, THAT is what annoys him about the entire episode, so I start laughing, and laugh so hard that I actually WAKE MYSELF UP LAUGHING.
Dream moral: I want to destroy something, evidently.
fin.
I was in Meijer. Not to start actually,it's so funny how you have to work backwards to remember dreams. Actually I was on an acquaintance's porch. (Craig is a boy I used to work with at the pharmacy. And who was pretty god damned rude all the time and would snicker to himself - that just-not-able-to-contain-myself kind of snickering - whenever someone got a prescription for viagra. (Viagara Falls)).
If I'm ever elected president, my first act of business as the nation's new leader will be to legally change all the capitals of our great fifty united states to the cities with the funniest sounding names. Hoboken. Strongsville. You get it.
If I ever work at a pizza place my first act of business will be to make sure that the pizzas are cut all the fucking way through, because it's the most annoying and terrible and awkward thing to try and take a first slice of pizza, in-edibly hot - but you're hungry, so you take it - and it's stuck to all the other pieces and you look like a fool trying to separate them. So I guess you could say I'm for segregation. Not differentiating between KINDS of pizza:
(Food Lover's pizza Vs. Food Hater's pizza. I can imagine the ad going something like this. A man walks into a restaurant, the camera work is terrible, and he says "I hate food."
"Well then we have a pizza for you!" replies the enthusiastic server, and the pizza she delivers to the table is topped with assorted telephone parts, shattered cd fragments and Comet.)
But segregation on individual levels. Every piece of pizza will have it's own water fountain.
So anyway I'm on Craig's porch, and a football game is just ending, and kids are streaming down the streets of bowling green. Two of Craig's friends pass by, a boy and a girl I've never met before. Craig becomes involved in conversation with the boy, and I start talking with the girl. She is holding a trial size box of S'mores Pop Tarts, eating one while we talk, with three left inside. It's my favorite kind of poptart. (In tenth grade I ran into a boy I had a crush on in the breakfast food aisle of Meijer, and he was buying these self-same pop tarts. I decided then that we were soulmates. I used to be an illogical romantic in my head, though not in action.)
So anyway, she's got this box that contains 4 poptarts, and she's eating one. I take the box, put it on the ground, AND STEP ON IT.
FOR NO REASON.
I laugh a little to myself and say casually "Wow, that was pretty mean of me, wasn't it?" and start to refashion the poptarts from their now ruined/smushed state into likenesses of their original form. I start to actually feel remorse, but don't know how to say I'm sorry to the girl when I obviously smushed them on purpose.
I earnestly offer to take her to meijer to buy more, but she declines. I help her load her pop tarts and a bunch of schoolwork she'd been carrying into a wagon, and she departs with her friend. SUDDENLY:
I am in Meijer. I'm with an italian man, maybe forty years old, helping him shop for an upcoming dinner party. He tells me to go find some high proof vodka. I go to the batteries and photo section, because that is where I remember the hard liquor to be. There's a half empty, opened bottle in the "K" section of photo pickup. Because there isn't much left, I go to the homemaker's aisle and open a set of really nice glassware and pour myself a huge cup. The store is relatively busy, it's about 10 pm at night, but I'm sure that no one is on to me because it just looks like I'm drinking a glass of water. However I am, with my other hand, tightly gripping the bottle of vodka, clearly labeled. Brian, who has just started working as one of the managers, (AT MEIJER, which is funny in itself if you know Brian) taps me on the shoulder and gives me a knowing look, glancing from the bottle to the glass and raising his eyebrows. But then he just starts laughing and waves me on.
I decided to pour the Italian man a glass as well, seeing as how there was a little liquor left. In the Halloween section I find a half empty fast food soda cup someone has carelessly discarded. I pour the remaining pop into a bin of clearance costumes and masks, then laugh at myself for being so terrible as to ruin all that merchandise. I specifically remember thinking the word "merchandise." Then I pour the vodka into the cup and put the lid and straw back on. I go to the back of the store, where he's standing next to the bulk food bins. He laughs at me as I explain that this is all I could find, pointing up at the top of the bulk food. And there is exactly what he wants, at least 30 pristine bottles.
"But how, exactly, do you recommend we get it - all the way up there?" He tells me to climb. So I do - at least 15 feet up over the gourmet dog bones and brach's candy, but at the tip-top there are packages and packages wafers. You know, those long rectangle cookies that no one really cares enough to buy, but which aren't all that bad. And I lose my footing on them, and SUDDENLY THE WAFERS ARE REALLY FUCKING HUGE, the size of planks, and there are hundreds of them, and I send them all cascading down. Everyone in Meijer (including Brian, who is a manager remember) kind of drops what they're doing and comes running, but not to gawk or clean up. Instead to RIDE THE WAVE OF WAFERS with me. Little kids and adults and elderly people, we're all having tremendous fun riding this wave of wafers.
And they smash into a bunch of shopping carts all pushed together in a train, and everyone climbs on the shopping carts and the momentum carries us 30 good feet before we slam into an obstacle - some bread display. The carts hit it, whip around, and though it goes against the laws of physics - continue on in a new direction, backwards. This goes on for 10 minutes, crashing and jumping from cart to cart and moving at breakneck speed. Until finally 3 people jump from a moving cart and land on a fruit display, completely destroying it. Everyone stops and kind of mills about happily.
And Brian, who was riding the carts with all the rest of us, comes laughing into the semi-circle we've inadvertantly formed - not to chastize us, but seemingly to give us a pep talk. He has a plastic bag that you use for putting fruit in and tying it off and weighing it, and I think there are peanuts in it. A little 5 year old kid comes running up, still excited from all the wildness and eagerly tries to see what is inside the bag. For some reason Brian gets flustered and tells the kid to "mind [his] own business and find [his] mom," and it's hilarious that with all of the destruction and havoc, THAT is what annoys him about the entire episode, so I start laughing, and laugh so hard that I actually WAKE MYSELF UP LAUGHING.
Dream moral: I want to destroy something, evidently.
fin.