I slept like shit last night.
I woke up several times, got up to pee twice, and when my alarm finally went off, I was groggy and really didn’t want to move.
But although my sleep sucked, I did have some bizarrely vivid dreams. One of which involved a fellow blogger. (I won’t keep y’all in suspense, it was StevieB from NicetoSeeStevieB ).
And alas, it was not a “sex dream”, as much as I may have liked. In fact, I find it sort of odd that I dreamed about Stevie at all, seeing as how he doesn’t really interract with me online or even acknowledge my twitter presence anymore. But he was there, nonetheless.
The dream details are fading, but it was something like:
I was back in North Carolina and working at my old job, only it was like it was Minneapolis in the rural South. After having a crazy morning at work, it was suddenly lunchtime and I decided to go to the local McDonalds– which morphed into this plank-floor, country kitchen/cafe establishment. Very “cracker barrel” meets “Floyd’s Barber Shop”. But with McFlurries.
Anyway, I was sitting at one of the pickel barrel/checker board tables, when I looked into the adjoining room, where I saw StevieB. He was on his cell phone and had on a baseball cap, but it looked like him. Right down to the goatee.
I kept staring at him. I thought that I recognized him from his pictures, but I couldn’t be sure. It just had to be him, but the longer I looked, the less sure I became.
I turned to my suddenly-appearing-out-of-nowhere lunch companion and said, “I think I know that guy in there. I think he’s this blogger guy who lives in Denver. I wonder what he’s doing here?” The random companion person said, “Go talk to him and find out.”
I demurred, reasoning that it most likely wasn’t StevieB, and that it would just be embarassing going up to a complete stranger and saying, “Pardon me, but I think I know you from online.”
I looked over continually as I ate lunch, trying to catch his eye. But to no avail- he was still wrapped up in his phone conversation. After finishing lunch, I tossed my tray of trash, and had finally screwed up my courage enough to at least walk by him for a closer look when I noticed he was no longer sitting there.
My lunch companion said, “You’re too late. He just walked out.”
Damn it! I’d been too chickenshit to introduce myself and missed my opportunity. Suddenly I’m running across the rough-hewn plank floors for the exit yelling “Wait! Wait!” I just make it out to the parking lot to see a beat up, Datsun B2000 pickup with Colorado license plates pulling away.
I wanted to chase him down, but I was only wearing white tubesocks on my feet, and the parking lot was gravel. So I stood like an idiot on the porch of the restaurant and watched him drive away.
That’s all I remember, but I think the dream continued on after that. Kind of odd, huh?
Paging Dr. Freud.