Quite the involved dream compared to usual.
I dreamt that, I guess, I ended up getting that Homeland Security job that Sean R had me apply for (but that I later decided, in real life, was against my best interests). So I was in DC. I don’t know that I was actually there for my first day of the job — I may have been there just as a preliminary meeting/interview. I don’t remember actually working. I believe I had some car problems, and thus couldn’t get back right at the 5PM/end of day time. I was trying to figure out how to get home, and almost called my cousin Jaime, but thought not to. Then I called my cousin Jennifer (Jaime’s sister) instead. But she didn’t answer. Later, in the halls, I actually ran into Jaime, and was like, “Oh, I was about to call you, but tried calling Jennifer instead!” I also ran into Greg Z in some computer lab, and told him about how I was going to work for “the enemy”.
I kept trying to go to bathroom, but it was locked. There was only a woman’s bathroom because the men’s bathroom had been converted, but on principal, I was going to use it anyway since it was a single-person bathroom. However, when I went in, there was a person disguised as a lampshade/coat-rack cleaning the bathroom. I just about whipped it out when they were like, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop it!”, and I was like “Sorry! Didn’t see you disguised there.” [Gee, maybe if this person doesn’t want to see somebody whipping it out, they shoudldn’t be disguised as a lampshade/coat-rack!]
So then things got more weird. Between the bathroom and the computer lab, at the bottom floor of this building, where I’d been hanging out, a large crowd of people exited from some job.
But one guy just seemed kind of retarded and annoying. I thought he was a homeless mentally ill street person. While I am quite sympathetic to people in such a situation, this guy was getting in my face, getting in other peoples’ face — I really wasn’t sure what was going on. Because I’d been watching the series Oz in real life (and right before going to bed in real life the night before this dream), I was more aggressive than usual. The guy actually reminded me of Cyril, the long-haired blonde Irish brother in Oz who was mentally retarded due to head trauma brain damage.
So anyway, in the dream, I told this guy bothering everybody to “get the fuck out of my face”, much like someone in prison in Oz would. He said something back, and I stepped forward so that I could push him as hard as I can on his chest. He almost fell. He came back and pushed me. “Fuck off, motherfucker!”, I yelled back. Something to that effect. I decided to grab his hair [long, like Cyril’s character in Oz], and pull the fuck out of it, and literally drag him away from the people he was bothering (including myself)… So I did just that.
Next thing I know, I’m pulling this random girl by her hair! I had grabbed the wrong long blonde hair! Sheeeit!
I was like, “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”, and actually put both my arms on both of her arms, as if to reassure her that I’m not here to harm her (by laying my hands on her more right after assaulting her! haha!). I’m pretty sure in a situation like this in real life, the girl would have screamed, or maybe fought back. After all, this random guy who was almost in a fight with another guy just dragged her by her hair then grabbed her by the arms!
But she seemed to instantly understand that my apology was real. She told me it was okay — that she knew that guy, knew how annoying he was, and completely understood why I was acting that way. “You mean he… works here? I thought he was a street person!”, I told her. [I never did find out that person’s status.]
Now the weird part is that even though I found this girl by accidentally grabbing her long blonde hair, she later turned out to be a short haired brunette with glasses, slightly styled/curled hair, and a bit on the short side (I’d say 5’3″-5’4″ — and I rarely remember heights of people even in real life, so this is weird that I remember this). Kind of a combination of a couple people I knew in real life: My old crazy junkie single mother violent ex-friend Jen (who burned all her bridges after getting out of jail for heroin possession), and Natasha/Natalie/Trin, this girl we’ve met at goth clubs at various points over the past decade, who keeps having a different name every time we meet her.
However, this dream girl was a bit more my type than both of the girls she is an amalgamation of–even if she was of the “shorthair breed” of female (which I don’t really like that much). The other weird part is that even though this was an office building, the lower floor was now kind of a restaurant/bar/lounge area rather than a computer lab, and the upstairs floors were now apartments rather than rented workspace for companies. It was as if the building we were in had changed, even though we hadn’t moved.
Perhaps this was two dreams — but my brain really put them together as one.
Anyway, we talk and talk and talk and talk and actually REALLY hit it off. I end up going upstairs to her place. She changes clothes or something. While she is gone, I flip through some books on the table. They are comic book stories of superhero origins and adventures — but they are all hand-drawn on hardback books full of blank white pages. VERY odd. Did SHE make these? I did not read any in specific, but kind of flipped through while waiting.
I think multiple people lived here. Perhaps the blonde who’s hair I pulled brought me upstairs, and the short-haired brunette was a roommate. Or perhaps they were the main person from 2 separate dreams, and my brain made them into one. I don’t know.
Anyway, the short-haired brunette and I got to talking much more. We really hit it off. Despite the random, somewhat violent nature of our initial introduction, she did not hold it against me in the slightest. (How could she? At this point she had short hair, so how could I even grab it? Maybe it was 2 people, maybe it was 2 dreams, I don’t know!!!)
It turns out we had a lot in common, though I don’t remember what it all was. It turned out that today was her birthday, yet we spent about 3 hours talking together. She either didn’t go through with her initial plans (because meeting me was so awesome for her, heh heh heh), or didn’t have any. I learned lots of random things about her. The hot character Chicago from the cartoon Producing Parker was actually modeled after her. “Really?!?!”, I asked. Chicago is so totally hot, a long-haired perfect-bodied completely ditzy oversexed horny minx of a cartoon character — at least as oversexed as Jessica Rabbit — and I didn’t quite see the resemblance between Short-Haired Brunette Dream Girl and Chicago from Producing Parker. (Honestly, Chicago was more like the blonde “Version 1” of this chick, than the brunette “Version 2” of this chick.)
In trying to figure out how she could possibly be the inspiration for the Chicago character, my only thought was that she must be similarly horny and oversexed, and that this was a good trait to have. ;) She saw my disbelief, and had a made-up conversation between Parker (from Producing Parker) and Chicago (from Producing Parker). She kind of moved her body between the two characters, and changed her voice for each character. Whatever she said, it was hilarious. And I knew it had to be true — she had seen the series, knew the personalities and voices of the characters — and thus shared a passion for adult cartoons as well. And was involved in the making of Producing Parker, ever-so-slightly.
^ Chicago Hyatt, from Producing Parker
It also turned out that her dad had the same name as my dad, and her last name very similar to mine in real life. Same number of letters, with vowels consistently morphed, some dyslexic letter flipping, and one other letter changed.
Although the sun was still up, it was getting late. I had initially planned on leaving the building around 5PM, and it was now closing in on 8:30PM. I had never called Carolyn, who doubtlessly was worried and/or mad that I had not showed up. (I had no cell phone at this point, even though I had one earlier when I was going to call my cousins for a ride…further making me think this might have been two different dreams smushed together.)
So I stand up to go, tell her I had a great time but have to go, lean in, and we make out (full tongue of course). I cut it very short, though –, after maybe 10 seconds. I didn’t want to go too far, plus I suppose it’s good to leave someone wanting more. Or if they hated it, to not overload them with something they hate. I dunno. Having been with Carolyn for 20 years, I’m not too big on the “how long do you make your first kiss?” type of logic. Perhaps this dream let me exercise those atrophied logic circuits a bit. Most of the 10 or so girls I’ve made out with in the past 20 years have initiated it with me, and I tend to just let them go on as long as they want. I’m not used to holding back myself. So this was kind of weird. I guess I was shy…
Finally, for whatever reason, I was able to go home. I don’t even remember how. Let’s just say my car magically fixed itself. When I got home past 8:30PM, Carolyn had simply taken a nap out of the boredom of me not being around, so she spent far less emotional energy worrying/waiting than I had thought, so I was relieved that my spontaneous date/pick-up had not taken the maximum possible emotional toll on her. Had the situation been reversed, I’d have been quite worried for her safety.
I of course told her all about my date and how fun it was, and told her I’d like to do it again. She didn’t mind. We’re very secure with our status with each other.
I began thinking about how I was going to break the news to this new girl… How do you tell someone, after your first date, that you are married, but your wife didn’t mind if you went out on another date?
Would she be livid that I simply hadn’t told her this on the first date? But then I might not have gotten that brief intimacy of the parting kiss… The chemistry might have never blossomed in the first place. How does one manage a situation like that? I worried quite a bit. My feelings for Carolyn were no more diminished than a parent’s feelings for their first child are diminished when they have a second child. However, I was crushing pretty hard on this girl-who-didn’t-mind-meeting-by-having-her-hair-pulled-and-who-was-modeled-after-a-cartoon-character-I-enjoy, and was simply worrying a lot about how this was going to work out. After all, she seemed to live in the apartment/office building/lounge/bar that I seemed to work/interview in. It’s not like I wasn’t going to run into her again — even if I never called her (on my sometimes there, sometimes not there cell phone), I’d definitely run into her at work sometime! Especially if that mental guy was harassing me and her and everyone else.
I worried about this for some time, but woke up — before Carolyn’s alarm in real life, even though I could have slept in all day if I’d wanted — more refreshed than I’ve felt in the morning in ages. I had to go to the computer and type this up quick before I forgot the details. It took a full 30 minutes to type up, and now, in real life, the tiredness is finally catching up to me.
What an involved dream!