Life could be a dream (sh-boom, sh-boom)

 

"Open your eyes, and see how great you feel," my Mindfit subliminal hypnosis tape was saying just as I finished with my warm washcloth therapy this morning.  I'd been programming my subconscious all night with this kind of positive drivel, since it's the only way my brain is going to accept this type of narrative. My conscious mind is far too adept at fending off these affirmations. 

Anyway, my intention was, as always, to remember my dreams, since that seems to be the only time I ever actually do anything. It is best to write them down when I first awaken, before the jaded editor comes online and mucks it up with fabrications, fictional details and unwanted interpretations. Generally, when I wake up, however, most of it falls through the strainer, and only a few clumps have solidified into something I can write down. Last night was no exception.

One common theme always emerges. One, maybe two elements. First, I'm working at my old job. Why this would be something I dream about is annoyingly simple: it was a large part of my life for 15 years, and I no longer have that. It was ripped from my life, leaving a void. I keep going back in my dreams and re-visiting it in various new scenarios which usually have me as a struggling newbie, in over his head and deferring to others. 

The other theme, of course, is the girl (or guy, apparently, on rare occasions). Sometimes the girl is one of my friends or acquaintances, from any time period in my life, for whom I may or may not have had a romantic attraction. There is always some kind of pull towards that, though. In my dream life they are all fair game. But as with my automotive repair dreams, I never quite pull off the job. Can't reel in the fish, seal the deal or get those sugary sweet cereal treats that a rabbit craves. ("Silly Rabbit, Trix are for kids.")

Last night, I was (yawn) working at a used car lot with ex-coworker, Manny Salazar. He was the top tech at Yuba City Honda for many years, before Sal came along and dethroned him. Last night it was just him and I, doing some kind of inspections and repairs to resell trade-ins. 

I had a Honda CRV torn apart on the interior, exposing much of the vehicle's wire harness and many of its various electrical control units which hide out inside the vehicle, unbeknownst to most car owners,  underneath the veneer of carpeting, panels and plastic covers. Many systems, many small brains, all connected to the vehicle's main computer by a network of spaghetti-like wires in a web of communication.

I was examining one particular wire harness and was perplexed. It was connected to the SRS control unit on one end and the other was an adapter for the vehicles onboard diagnostics, where a scan tool could be hooked up. The connector was the familiar 16 pin configuration, however, only five or six of the pins were active. The space where the other terminals should reside was just smooth plastic, no cavities or receptacles had even been formed.

I brought this to Manny's attention, and he seemed to brush off my inquiry with one of his usual type of simplified working-man replies. My tendency was to overthink and over-theorize, which rarely resulted in actually repairing anything, but made me sound intelligent to the management. He, on the other hand, spoke in simple terms, but repaired just about anything that was handed to him.

"Maybe you just need to drive it," he said.

I buttoned it up and took it off the lot. I was out and about when I spied a tall woman with dark hair carrying some groceries up to her apartment. I don't know what possessed me, or how I got it into my mind, but I felt I needed to sell her this car. It wasn't even properly fixed, and there were a few loose panels from my hasty reassembly. Selling cars wasn't my principal job on the lot, but it was a small business, so they probably wouldn't mind if I happened to generate a sale.

I approached her with some kind of pickup line that made her think I was selling more than cars. She eyed me suspiciously at first, but then saw that my intentions were benign, even if I did possibly have a slightly ulterior motive. She somehow consented to get in the car with me to go on the all important test drive, but only after I agreed to help her put away her groceries.

We managed to get the preliminaries out of the way and soon we were motoring along, me making banter about the car and her trying to read me to find out what else I might be trying to sell her. I didn't let on that I found her attractive, but I think she knew it and was ok with it. No one really minds when you think nice things about them, as long as you don't creep them out by just blurting them all out at once in some opus magnum manifesto type of love proposal. That would be my usual go to, but I was playing it safe this time.

That's about as far as it got, though. A test drive and some chit-chat. Ho hum. I did wake up feeling a little refreshed, but decided to give my eyes a wake-up soak with a warm washcloth to kind of prolong the sense of relaxation, before starting my full day of daily living activities. Unlike dreaming, living can be such a chore and is something I rarely look forward to, except in the sense that I dread it. 

Sorry Mindfit guy, the message didn't quite take. Perhaps next time, eh?