Here are a few scraps of dreams that I can't find a home for, so I'm tossing them all into a casserole. There won't be any binders or common themes, just individual ingredients.
Walking around in my mom's house, I found a cigar. Nothing Freudian there. It was just a cigar. An enormous 10" cigar. I was admiring the craftsmanship and texture and thinking that I'd like to smoke this thing, but I didn't think my mom was going to approve of me lighting it in the house. I wandered from room to room, but I never did find a suitable venue for Big Stinky.----
I was at the dinner table at my mom's house, and we were doing some arts and crafts with Marcus from The Bear. His little paper cutouts were coming out way better than mine, and he was quick to point this out to me."Yours are crap, Andrew," he said bluntly, "but you know this. Everything you do is crap."
Feeling the full weight of his criticism, I began to sniffle.
"That hurts, Marcus," I whined through the unbidden tears. "I have feelings, you know."
----
I was in a prison yard at a camp where the guards would just as soon shoot you as look at you. They didn't bother with warning shots either. If you were spotted straying too far out of bounds, they aimed right for the head. A fellow inmate decided to make a break for it during a momentary lapse in vigilance as two of the guards engaged in a heated conversation about football.
"Hurry!" he whispered and tugged on my uniform, motioning me to follow.
He took the lead and sprinted for the fences. He made it over three of them before we were spotted. The guards were taken by surprise, but for some reason, they held their fire and began a foot pursuit. It was beginning to look like we had a chance, since they were not in the best shape. We wound our way through some nearby apartment buildings, toward anonymity and freedom.
I guess I never heard the shot. I woke up in another freezing night sweat.
----
I was coming home from the market, and I pulled up to my front gate. I looked over to the left, and noticed that someone, presumably my neighbor Stan, had dug a nice pond for me down by my well. It was rectangular, about the size of an Olympic swimming pool.
The fill dirt had magically disappeared, incorporated into some grading and leveling he'd done elsewhere on the property. Next to the pond, plugged into a power source at my well-head, was a MacBook Pro laptop, open and displaying a presentation of the work that he'd done.
I looked around, but Stan was nowhere to be seen. My mom was present, however, and she was quick to point out that he'd done all of this at his own expense. I was mentally fretting about how I was going to repay him, when my mom chimed in:
"You know how much this little project cost him out of pocket? Twenty dollars," she said, proudly. "That's how much he spent on gas for his excavator. Twenty bucks. That's it."
I was contemplating how much additional tip would be appropriate for such a fine job as I fiddled with his laptop. It had gotten muddy, so I took a can of some unknown spray and gave the keyboard and Charging Cord a good spritz then wiped it with a cloth.
Unfortunately, the can contained freeze spray, and it turned the charging cord brittle, causing it to break off in my hand. As I examined the damage, I found that it was in integrated cord, and replacing it would require major disassembly. Fortunately, I woke up before I had to deal with it.
----
It was a Thursday afternoon in early summer, and I was in the backyard at 9309 Mines Ave, the residence of Robert Leon and occasional meeting place of his Bible Study/cult. A few others had also arrived early for the night's lecture, among them a very naked Sofia Vegara.
"Come over here, now!" she commanded me in her signature Latina accent and over-emphatic diva fashion.
Of course, I obeyed.
"I'm going to lie down on the blanket. Like this--" she said, and pointing to a red and white tablecloth, she laid herself out picnic style on the grass, knees bent, her legs apart and arms outstretched to draw me in.
"You're going to do stuff to me," she continued, "and I'm going to like it."
There was no arguing with her. Following her instructions, I began performing a rather long shopping list of sex acts, quite a number of them things which with I was only vaguely familiar. No matter. She was not at a loss for words to direct me.
"Start here! Use your tongue! Don't stop til I tell you to stop!" I was being bullied by the famous TV actress.
I worried that some of the other cult members would catch us in flagrante, but on some level, I realized that this was a sex cult, after all, only thinly disguised as a Bible Study. Who knows, this might have been part of an initiation. I was likely to get rebuked either way, so I just did as I was told for the moment.
I woke up before getting my gold star. Her list was too long, and I needed to get up anyway
