Never dream on a Thursday afternoon!

Dragon Mood? -- shaking out the cobwebs

Cisco and I took an enjoyable walk this afternoon. The weather is beautiful, the temperature outside perfect. We walked for about 40 minutes and arrived back at the pied-a-terre, both of us panting a bit from exertion and ready for something cool to drink.

I took off my walking shoes, poured myself some lukecool rooibos herbal tea and sat down in a comfy chair to work on a sudoku puzzle. Before I knew it, I had dozed off, puzzle and pencil in hand.

I dreamt that I was driving in a tunnel from Detroit to Windsor. The tunnel felt more like driving through a series of concrete rooms and involved lots of sharp turns. I drove anxiously, carefully avoiding the vehicle-unfriendly concrete corners. I was doing okay, until a last turn when I heard the scrape of metal and saw something fly off of my car.

"Ohhh, NO!" I groaned to myself. The concrete tunnel morphed into a concrete room, a room that resembled a tall, deep castle dungeon. I knew it was an office. My supervisor from my last temporary job, a guy named Adam, was there. He was asking me a question. But suddenly, there was a police officer wanting to take a report on my hitting my car in the tunnel.

"Officer, it was a mistake," I offered, "and it was just a tiny little scrape."

"It doesn't matter," he officiously replied, "the penalty is eight million dollars and you'll just have to pay it."

"EIGHT MILLION DOLLARS!" I exclaimed.

Meanwhile, Adam is repeatedly asking for for this notebook filled with papers.

"See these cards?" he asked. They were a stack of the postcards that fill magazines, hectoring readers to mail them in and subscribe to the magazine.

"Did you see any of these cards in that notebook?" he asked again. "Did you take any of them out?"

"Yes," I replied, "well, yes, I took them out and threw them away. They're junk mail. I didn't know they meant anything or that you wanted them in there."

Adam then goes off on a tirade. The policeman reminds me that I will have to pay that eight million dollar ticket ... Adam is yelling at me "How could you throw my cards away?" ... I'm feeling sick with anxiety and fear ... and I woke up. I woke up so groggy with sleep that it took me seconds and seconds and more seconds to realize, to thankfully realize that I didn't owe anybody eight million dollars and that I hadn't screwed up Adam's screwed-up filing system. What a relief! What a bothersome dream! And I was so thankful it was just a bothersome dream!