Sleeping at work

In last night's dream, I got to the office to discover that people were clearing out the cubicle next to mine.  (In real life, the colleague who occupies that cube is taking a personal leave, and has been out of the office for more than a month.)  They were removing the desk, the files, everything.  Then my colleague appeared, and she was transformed: she had lost weight, her skin was glowing, she looked peaceful and healthy.

I said, "Wow!  You look great!  What's going on around here?"  She explained that she had found a new job, one that was better, more flexible, closer to home, easier to do.  She told me that she weighed only 100 lbs now; I was shocked, she was pleased.  She took her personal things and left.

My manager showed up, and explained that since there was an empty cube in between our cubicles now, we'd be able to move cots into our cubes.  I decided to put in bunk beds in mine.

My best friend and her family came by; I showed them where I work, and the new layout with the bunk beds.  We had planned to go out to eat, but she explained that, unfortunately, there had been a change of plans and they had to leave.  I got angry, and said, "Oh FINE!" in a petulant tone.  I decided the best thing for it would be to take a nap on my new bunk bed.

I curled up on the bottom bunk, and tried to go to sleep.  I felt uncomfortable, and pressed, and gave up on trying to sleep.  When I climbed out of the bed, I saw that the top bunk had collapsed down, nearly crushing the bottom bunk.  My best friend was sitting in a chair, waiting for me.  I said, "I thought you said you had to leave?"  She said, "They had to leave; I have been waiting for you.  I thought when you were done with your nap that we could go get something to eat."  I felt silly for having made a fuss.

Crash Test Dummy

In last night's dream, I went into the kitchen first thing in the morning, and there, standing by the kids' easel, was a life-size, bright red (kind of Spiderman colored), animate crash test dummy.  It turned to look at me when I walked in the room.  I knew that it was my daughter's, and also knew that it would just take up too much room in the kitchen; it would be in the way as I bustled around trying to make lunches.

I said to it, "Well, you can't stand THERE.  Why don't you go lie down in the top bunk?"  It started shambling off in that direction, but I stopped it.  "No, you can't go there.  You'll startle the kids if they don't know you're up there.  Why don't you go down to the basement?  You can stay in the storage space for now."  And off it went.

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Later, I was at an outdoor track, watching sprint races.  There was live music, and I was having a great time listening and watching the racers.  Suddenly, though, the music sounded very familiar, and really good.  I turned, and it was Mark Knopfler, playing guitar.  I was wowed, and went and sat beside him on the bleachers.  As he played, I rested my head on his shoulder, enjoying the amazing music.

Who's in charge, here?

In last night's dream, my 4-year-old son picked me up in the yellow station wagon.  Since he was having a little trouble seeing over the steering wheel, I agreed that he could sit on my lap while he drove.  It seemed reasonable; there clearly wasn't a car seat in there, anyway.

We pulled up to a stop and went into a medical clinic.  We were joined in the elevator by an EMT, who turned to me after the doors slid shut.  "What do you think you're doing, out there, putting that kid's life at risk?" he said.  I was dumbstruck.

Then, suddenly, the elevator tipped to its side, then over again, then over again.  It was like being in a huge, slow-motion washing machine.  Finally, the elevator stopped turning, and the doors slid open.  The EMT got out, and gave me a "I hope you learned your lesson" glare.  I glared back.  I took my son's hand, and we walked on.

Escape from Camp / College

In last night's dream, I was at some combination of summer camp and college:  the surroundings were tall stone gothic buildings and lovely landscaped grounds, but the activities were standing on cafeteria benches and singing, and being silly with kids of all ages.

As I was packing up to leave (folding sheets and towels, trying to remember how I had packed them in the first place, wondering if I'd need to get a garbage bag to stuff everything in), I saw, from the corner of my eye, a streak of light.  I looked out the window of the tall stone tower I was in, and saw a fireball explode on the ground right beside our tower.  I said, "We've got to get out of here."

My companion (a person I was in sixth grade with, and haven't seen since...) and I scrambled down the winding staircase and burst out into the courtyard.  There were cars lining the circular driveway.  We looked around, panicked, not sure what to do next.

Then someone who seemed to be in charge said, "You, you have to be evacuated.  You're going with her."  He pointed at this small, approaching vehicle:  the width of a wide motorcycle, but without the large motorcycle wheels.  (I don't know how it went.  Was it a hovercraft?  Did it go on a track?  No idea.)  There was a large windshield and a small platform for the driver to stand on; we had to kind of hang off the back, awkwardly clasping the side of the windshield and each other, hoping to not fall off the back as we zoomed off.

We zipped up narrow sandy roads, dodging pedestrians.  I kept wondering how we were actually going to get out; why wouldn't they notice us?  Wouldn't someone stop us?  (Clearly, my brain has co-opted some of the drama of Argo).

But then suddenly, we were back in the tower, packing up again.  I was, once more, folding pillowcases, when the same streak of light rocketed through the sky, the same explosive sound, the same hurrying down the stairs and being ushered onto an escape vehicle.

In the second iteration, we got farther. But then I was explaining all of it to my mom, almost narrating the second escape.  I said, "They made us do it again, because they really want us to understand what it's like to say goodbye.  How it feels, and what it means."

Terrible parenting

In last night's dream, I was supposed to take my 4-year-old boy to meet my husband at a restaurant we wanted to try.  My son and I got to the restaurant early; a big Chinese restaurant that was eerily empty.  The foyer was too large and under-furnished, and there was a second, lower-level that was enormous but barred off.  I realized quickly that it wasn't going to be the meal we were hoping for, and tried to figure out how to gracefully split.

I called my husband to find out where he was, and he was 10 blocks north of us (I had, evidently, given him completely inaccurate directions).  I told him not to bother to come back down, that we would go up and meet him.  So my son and I, without ordering any food, started to gather our things to leave.  We had to ask one of the restaurant staff to retrieve our coats and shoes (??? why did we take our shoes off???).  I was glad to get out of there.

As we were walking uptown to meet my husband, I stopped and bought a pack of cigarettes.  I lit one, and offered one to my 4-year-old son.  We walked along, smoking and talking.  I explained to him that this was a terrible thing we were doing, that smoking is really really bad for you.  He said, "Like cookies?"  I said, "Well, no.  Cookies aren't terrible.  You shouldn't eat only cookies, but cookies aren't bad for you.  Cigarettes are terrible for you, all the time."  He said, in a deliberately funny voice, "But it makes me feel so relaxed!"  We walked on, smoking and talking, and I knew that I'd ruined something good.

Stranded van / scavenging for wardrobe finds

In last night's dream, I was traveling in some kind of RV or camper van with friends, and we had to stop suddenly because one of my companions said, "Look at THAT!"  Up on a nearby snowy hillside, displayed kind of elegantly, were some clothes, including a long overcoat.  I thought she wanted the coat, but behind it was a tweedy-looking, retro cardigan that she absolutely had to have.  We weren't able to get the van going again, so abandoned it, planning to retrieve it later.

Then, suddenly, I was at a wedding – a small, casual one, with children running all over the place – and I realized it was of a former friend.  It was so awkward that I was there, at this most personal and intimate event, when we hadn't spoken for years. But instead of turning me out, she gave me a hug and asked to see pictures of the kids.

We tried to go back to rescue the van, but we couldn't; there were angry men – police officers?  tow truck guys? the owner of the berm we'd left it on? – scolding us. I was able to get a few things out of the van before I scurried off, abandoning the van for good.

Hospital / Animal Rescue

In last night's dream, I was working for our realtor.  It was a new job, and I was nervous about everything – being late, messing up, all of that new job anxiety one might have.

I was visiting with some old high school friends, but knew that I had to get to work, or at least phone in. I couldn't leave somehow, and couldn't dial my phone.  I realized that when I was looking at my phone, everything was blurry.  I said, "I think something might be really wrong with me!"  The people I was with tried to calm me down, or explain away why I couldn't see clearly, but I knew that they were wrong.

I managed to get myself to some kind of clinic, and the nurses there sat me on a gurney so they could take my blood pressure.  I said, "Shouldn't you draw blood?  Run some tests?"  They explained that since I'd had blood drawn recently, they couldn't do so again so soon; new research showed that drawing blood too frequently increased the risk of developing blood clots.  (Obviously my subconscious is mulling over Secretary of State Clinton's health...)

While I sat on the gurney, I kept trying to call in to the realtor to let him know why I was so late, but it didn't work.  I misdialed repeatedly, and then couldn't quite make out the numbers, and then couldn't quite remember the order of the numbers.

A nurse said that I should accompany her to another room to wait. We walked into an area – I wouldn't quite call it a room –  that had, on one side, a small lake instead of walls and windows.  The floor fell away to a steep rocky shore that descended a few feet to the lake.

In the lake were some birds – ducks, swans, maybe? – as well has a few musicians sitting on some kind of floating petals.  They were playing and singing as they floated around on the lake.  I sat by the rocky edge, and watched the music.  Other rescued animals came into view; a kitten, a tiny pygmy donkey (is there even such thing as a pygmy donkey?), some chicks.

I watched and listened and waited for someone to come tell me what to do next, and if I was going to be okay.