what's up, buttercup?

Dreamt that my dad picked me up in this jalopy of a vehicle that was a towing a jalopy of a 5th wheel and it was barreling down a 45 mph road. He missed my turn (I just wanted out of the car) and then there were no turns for a long time and then he missed he another turn. Then we passed a cop and he was like, “oh shit,” and of course the cop pulled us over. The cop came into the jalopy and brought with him a whole Christian youth group. The youth group kids were all wearing gray shirts. They prayed, with the cop. My dad was all Civil Rights on the cop, but of course he didn’t have a license so not a leg to stand on. The cop ticked off violations on a ticket and then went into a yard (my yard) and pulled out three beautiful flowering plants, which were being seized to plant elsewhere in the city because the cop didn’t think my dad would ever pay his fine. /issues.

I have many things to say, but only seven minutes to say them, so I will have to hope that things in my cabesa are still around next time I have time to sit and write. My day is all stacked up transactionally, though there are uncertain outcomes on a couple of things. To be more middle managementy or not, that is the question. And then to run about town, errands so many errands.

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I had a dream that we were at the airport and there was a very old, tall, white man, maybe he was the bad cop from L.A. Confidential, the one whose name I never remember (that guy!) and he said, very loudly, that if you were an African American male that you would most definitely be searched please step aside over here and the whole airport looked around at eachother, incredulously, as if to say, “really, in 2012?”. I pulled up my phone and searched the United website and somehow called an attorney who would not tell me that United was her client, but listened to my story anyhow and somehow I think it was all resolved, that everyone knew that racial profiling is bullshit and that the old man’s paradigm needed a burst. Look at me, so idealistic, even in my dreams.

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time’s up, have a awesome Thursday. <3

I dreamt that I was hiking with a group of people. They were annoying. Lisa from the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills might have been there (she’s actually my favorite, yes I have a favorite) and of course she was wearing nonsensible shoes and a too-tight skirt, while walking along granite trails you find in the Sierras. Everyone was bitching. There was some indication of a fire, which I said I wanted nothing to do with. I left them behind, hiking up and down rolling hills, back to the trailhead.

I and one friend were far down the path when a roaring fireball, Backdraft style, was coming my way, and I was sure I was going die. I looked left, up a manzanita-covered hill, no escape. I looked right, and there was an abandoned, black, HDPE culvert, sitting askew in a swamp. I ran for it, climbed inside, curled myself into a ball in the musty puddle that remained at the bottle of the plastic pipe. My friend came with me. The fire roared over our heads, which we’d covered as if we were in an earthquake drill. The pulse of heat and smoke left us asthmatically gasping for air. We hiked out, and got to a town where no one cared. I went looking for my dog. 

We’re staying at one of those hotels where you’re not sure if you’re supposed to tip the guy who operates the manual elevator, but you know you’re supposed to tip most everyone else, like even if they smile at you you’re supposed to tip them. So last night I dreamt that every time I rolled over I was supposed to tip someone so I spent the last couple of hours of “sleep” resisting the urge to roll over and tallying how many dollars I owed some tippee every time I succumbed. Soyeahthat.

I dreamt I took these amazing pictures on some outing and I was so excited to post them that I could hardly decide which I should post first. It took me an hour to realize that I was not recording pictures to my CF card while I was sleeping. Alas.

I had a dream where we (the collective dream “we”) were all supposed to take a ride on a bus, but there something ominous about it. It felt like the Taliban was forcing us to take this bus ride and so in my mind I was weighing the options: skip the bus ride (get caught), take the bus try (and try to escape along the route (what route?)).

I skipped the bus ride, but it ended near where I was and people exited and then were all lined up against some cloth-covered picnic tables. I slipped into line because otherwise I was going to get caught and there were old women, very old, sitting at the tables handing out cookies. There were oatmeal and chocolate chip and hershey’s kiss cookies (the Taliban have hershey’s kiss cookies?) and we were supposed to take some and eat them there, as we progressed in line.

I took an oatmeal cookie, but it turned out it was a vegan oatmeal cookie and not the moist yummy kind that foodie vegan bloggers make but rather the kind that I would end up making: dry and with maybe a little too much baking soda. The lady who made them was right there and she was asking about her vegan cookies and blabbing about Earth Balance soy margarine and telling me to eat more cookies and all the while I was worried that somewhere in the bunch was a Jim Jones cookie and, really, the Taliban were going to kill me with cookies?