Who Do I Think I Am??

This one's about a dream.

Good morning out there in the real world, folks. A significant event occured in my life last night. I dreampt, and I actually remembered it. And since nothing else worth noting is going on currently in my existence, in order to keep my mind nimble, I'll tell ya all about it.

But first, a little backstory. For the second night in a row, I've woken up at 4:30am. Two nights ago it wasn't that big a deal...but last night sucked for the simple fact that I remembered to take melatonin before I went to bed, specifically so I could fall asleep and stay asleep. And not only did I wake up at a ridiculous hour, but I can also recall a dream.

So here it goes.

I stepped out of the room I'm staying in and go out to the parking lot, where the owner, his wife, and their son are tinkering with an old, orange moped. They get this machine purring, and ask me if I'd like to take it for a ride, which I do and fall in love with it. When I come back, they ask me if I want it, so I take it. The cool thing about this bike is that it has a small tablet computer strapped to it.

Up pulls my mother (which in itself is weird, since I haven't seen her since 1995), who offers to go with me to get the bike registered at the DMV. She gets in the back seat and I drive, but I end up at Cheektowaga Town Hall (in the town I grew up in). Apparently in my dream that's where the DMV is located as well. Mom gets out to take care of the registration, and I hop into the back seat to play with with the tablet from the moped.

Out comes an excited man who wants to ask me about the moped, and I show him the tablet. He's impressed and asks if I'd like a bigger one, and asks me to follow him inside, which I do. Past a court proceeding, past the clerk's office, almost in a circle, stopping in a hallway outside a gym. He climbs a portable basketball net and unplugs a larger tablet. He says it used to be the shot clock when they played on that net. I thank him and start to walk out.

As we walk past a room full of chairs, people and racks, he asks me if I'd like a job there, which I accept. I don't know what the description is, but I take the job because it pays more and offers on-site housing.

The next part of the dream is a series of days. I wake up, go to the meeting room, put my training binder in a crate outside the door of the room, and mingle with my coworkers. All the while not knowing why I'm there, and being scolded for not being in the right place at the right time. The gossipy old ladies are polite, and the men are indifferent.

On the fifth day, I wake up in my room and the phone is ringing. It rings twice, stops, and rings again five minutes later. I'm confused at this point, because I know I'm dreaming it, but I'm barely conscious enough to wonder if it's actually the real phone in the real room I'm really sleeping in. Doesn't matter; I wasn't getting up to answer it anyway. In the dream, the phone had a giant display screen in full color, with caller-id and a display of what's going on in the meeting room. The difference in reality is the phone in my room is an old desktop touchtone phone from 1976.

I don't recognize the number calling me, but I realize in the dream I've overslept. I kinda sneak into the meeting room, pretending like I've been there the whole time. We break for lunch, and everybody's looking at the racks of clothes in the room. New shoes, sandals, name-brand clothes. Around the corner are books and other assorted general merchandise items. One of the old ladies points out a hillbilly-lookin' dude and says he donated all of this stuff, and anyone's welcome to it for free. He flashes me a toothy/toothless grin. I help myself to some things, knowing I really don't have much.

After work, I pay a visit to my old house and my ex to pick up more of my belongings. But the house isn't the same. The walls have been painted and the rooms somehow have been turned sideways. And it's a friggin' mess...totally unlike the house I remember living in.

At first she's flippant, almost dismissive. It's like I'm not really there in front of her while she sifts through the mess. I see boxes of my things she's packed up, stacked off to the side and labeled. But as I'm walking through the mess, I see other things that are mine...some books, cd's, clothes, assorted memories. I keep saying, "I just wanna walk around and make sure I've got everything". She barely objects.

But I'm losing it inside, and it eventually leaks outside. I'm trying not to cry. My jaw is trembling uncontrollably, shaking. She asks me what's wrong, and mockingly makes a chewing motion with her face to mimic what I must look like. I break into a full-on bawl, and admit that I can't do this anymore. I reach to her and we embrace. We kiss, slight and loving but not quite passionately. I gather the courage to ask her if she wants to give it another shot...if she wants to try again.

And I'll be damned. That's where the dream ends and I wake up. I wonder who's been calling me, only to realize no one's been calling me. I'm in the bed I've been in for a little while, which isn't near some office in the Cheektowaga Town Hall. The sun's up. I'm replaying this dream over and over in my head, hardly believing I'm recollecting it all in such detail. I'm single. I'm pining for the love of my life the last four years and debating the merits of pursuing this beautiful woman I had lunch with the other day. Kind of torn. Neither may be an option; anything is possible.

I've done more thinking today before even getting out of bed than most people in this town will do all day. I don't know how I feel about that, actually. Sometimes, I wish I could feel nothing at all. Emotionless. Quiet, sullen, vacated. Empty. But it's not possible. This brain doesn't stop. There's no off switch. There is no distraction, even on a road full of them. Wheels turn, even with wrenches thrown at them and sticking out.

I've said enough for one day in a lifetime made of saying too much at the wrong time and sometimes the worst time. So I'm gonna shut this down here, now, and see what the day brings. Luckily there's plenty of time to make something happen, or at least erase the thoughts I've woken up to. The phone could ring, the light could change, the day can be saved. Hope you all have a great day readers; those of you who made it down this far. Peace, love, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!