Two hour lunch

 

Another day, another YC Honda dream. The way I figure it, they ought to be paying me for all the time I'm putting in. This last one encroached on my afternoon nap time. I can see having to work during my primary sleep time, if dreaming is my main job in life. But interrupting an afternoon nap is like being asked to work on a holiday. I should be getting overtime pay, since they are cutting into my recreational dream time.

So, I was back on the job, only I wasn't. I was at lunch. Me and Jackie Chan (David Chanh) were eating at a restaurant in town. After lunch I decided I needed to take a nap in my car, so I found a shady spot and got some shuteye. 

When I woke up from my nap (in the dream) I was in my old Paradise house. I was extremely groggy and couldn't figure out how I'd gotten there. I looked at my watch, and it was an hour later than the time that I was supposed to be back to work. So, even if I hightailed it back to work, I'd be 2 hours overdue, since I lived an hour away.

I figured I'd better call in sick. Yeah, that's what I'd do. I would tell them that I went out to lunch and suddenly started feeling sick, so I went home. Why didn't I call them right then, before driving home? Uh, because I was too sick. I was throwing up. Yeah, throwing up. I was working out all the details of my excuse, so I'd be ready in case there were questions.

My mom was there at the house, sitting at my computer desk. I told her I needed to use the phone, so she handed me the cordless landline. There's an oxymoron for you, "cordless landline." Anyway, I had the phone in my hands and kept trying to dial the number for my work, but it was impossible. I would either misdial and have to start over again, or I'd flat out misremember the number. And I could give you that number in my sleep, believe me, I've had to dial it enough times.

In one of my attempts, before I even dialed a number at all, I heard voices on the line. I kept quiet and listened. I thought at first that I'd actually gotten through to my work somehow by accident. 

"Hello? HELLO?" I spoke loudly into the phone, but they ignored me.

My mom asked me to give her the phone. She wanted to mess around with them, and she casually inserted herself into their conversation. They acknowledged her, laughing at some joke that she was telling them. It was like some CB radio channel, or a party line where random people just chime in, in a free-for-all fashion.

They started gossiping about Sharon's old neighbor, Dave Vixie, and I tried to get in on the action, but I couldn't come up with any interesting factoids about Dave, except that he was a horse's ass. He actually did have a team of mules that he would harness up and drive down the street, but I don't know if that qualifies him for horse's ass status.

I was getting frustrated with my mom's hogging of the telephone. I still needed to call in sick. As is typical in dreams, I realized way late in the game that I had a cell phone on me (double duh). I tried dialing the numbers, but I had the same lack of success. At one point my phone morphed into a tiny CD player/copy machine/Easy Bake oven. I was fascinated by this miniaturized replica of a non-existent hybrid appliance. I knew something was wonky at this point. 

I was still extremely frustrated, to the point of tears, because I couldn't make my phone call. I knew that if I could just get through, they'd accept my excuse for not returning from lunch. Hell, I might not even need an excuse. It was slow down there, and they likely didn't need me down there standing around anyway.

"Maybe you just need to wake up," my mom suggested.

It didn't occur to me that I was asleep, and that this was my wake-up call. I asked her what she meant, and she began to cry, mumbling something about pregnancy and how some procedure wasn't an option.

"You are trying to have more kids, now?" I asked her, incredulous at the thought. My mom is 76.

"No. I'm not trying. I AM pregnant. And the procedure I needed to insure the appropriate gender wouldn't work. We're going to have another boy." My mom was just full of surprises.

"Still trying to get a good one, eh?" I said, joking at my own expense. But then I became aware of the slight to my other three brothers, so I added, "Well, I'm sure there's at least one good one or two in the bunch." I can be such a turd.

"Greg and I really wanted a girl," she said, still misty.

I was still frustrated over the whole work and phone situation and couldn't muster up the correct response. So I lack empathy, even in my dreams. Great. 

Eventually, I woke up and solved the whole problem of having to call in sick. Maybe my mom was right after all. I did just need to wake up. It took me a little while to shed that frustrated feeling, though. I was awake for several minutes still thinking that I needed to make that damn phone call.

It occurs to me that I've written voluminously on these dreams about nothing. My life is boring, my dreams are boring, sheesh. What's the point, already? None whatsoever. It's like an episode of Seinfeld, only without the jokes.