I have this recurring theme in my dreams that I failed my senior year of high school history but because I was in an early career placement work-place internship no one noticed and I graduated along with everyone else. In reality, I was a pretty good history student -- I was in honors Advanced Placement for crying out loud! But dreams, being what they are, take no heed of reality and yet it causes consternation in my waking hours. I woke up extremely pissed-off and confused this morning. Here's why:
As usual, the dream begins with someone approaching me and informing me that I never turned in a research paper about the industrial revolution and, as a result, failed the class and should have never graduated high school. If I do not return and retake a semester of world history then my high school and college diplomas will be rescinded and I'll be publicly shamed (in reality, don't know why'd I'd care but in my dream it cause me great stress).
So, I decide to back to high school. It's winter in Cincinnati and I'm working a shitty ass job to try and pay my rent and heating bills and still get all of my schoolwork done. Today, we're going on a field trip to see some historical landmarks around Cincinnati. Being one of the few people with a driver's license, I get to cart around a bunch of kids in my shitty blue 1987 Sentra.
This is the car from my dream. That is not me sitting on it.
It's a super boring trip and we return to school with another 45 minutes left before it lets out for the day. So we sit in class and talk about the mosaics depicting steel workers and laborers in the old train station. Fascinating.
This is one of the mosaics from Union Terminal. I don't think they are there anymore. I think they may have been moved to the airport.
The final bell rings and hundreds of students make for the snowy parking lot to head home or wherever. Pretty unremarkable except for one thing -- if I hold my breath I can fly. I float 20 feet into the air and am met by a few shocked stares from parents picking up their kids who have never witnessed a flying person before but otherwise life goes on as usual around me. I hover over the parking lot trying to remember where I parked just an hour ago but I see no sign of my piece of crap car. The lot begins to empty and I become increasingly concerned. I'm hundreds of feet in the air and barely missed some power lines on my ascent.
This is my high school parking lot, as seen from hundreds of feet in the air.
Nearly out of breath, I return to the ground and approach the parking lot guard shack (the guard is played by Justin, a regular at the bar I work at). I ask him if any cars have been towed this afternoon and he says 5 cars were towed in the last hour. I ask if one was blue '87 Sentra and he says no but I can see the clipboard and the third car on the list is listed as a blue '87 Sentra. I think he's stoned. I look at the notes next to the listing and it says I was parked too close to the "pool table." I'm pretty pissed off because I could easily get out of my car without hitting the pool table and that seems like a pretty lame reason to tow my car. I'm pretty pissed off because I can't get to work and I have no money with which to pay for the towing and return of my car. Justin gives me a $5 bill which I promptly crumple up at throw at him and demand to speak to his superviser.
I dial the number for the name listed... Alexandra Vel-something or other. It rings for a while and finally picks up. It's voicemail thing. It says to state my problem and they'll get back to me. I hang-up but quickly redial. This time, I quickly yell my story but am interrupted by the voice on the phone that says "Please hit the button to speak more slowly." And I'm like "What? The button to speak more slowly?" and it repeats itself and I'm like "How does a button make me talk more slowly, what the fuck?" and then it says "You have to slow down. I can't understand what you are saying." And I realize its not a machine afterall, just the woman pretending to be but she's blown the cover now "Wait! This is Alexandra? You're pretending to be a machine!?"
So I explain my situation to Alexandra about how I don't understand why my car was towed for being to close to a pool table that is also no longer there and what the hell was it doing in the parking lot to begin with and how did all of these things get removed from the parking lot in a span of 45 minutes anyway! Eventually, she apologizes and says that I won't have to pay anything and my car will be back tomorrow. TOMORROW! But I was supposed to be at work 15 minutes ago!
FUCK.
Then I woke up. That was like an hour and half ago. I was grinding my teeth and my heart was racing and I was really pissed off. I hate recurring dreams. At least it wasn't the one where Jabberjaw kills my parents and wants to live in my bath tub.
This asshole killed my parents.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In other news, I finally did a new poster.
As usual, the dream begins with someone approaching me and informing me that I never turned in a research paper about the industrial revolution and, as a result, failed the class and should have never graduated high school. If I do not return and retake a semester of world history then my high school and college diplomas will be rescinded and I'll be publicly shamed (in reality, don't know why'd I'd care but in my dream it cause me great stress).
So, I decide to back to high school. It's winter in Cincinnati and I'm working a shitty ass job to try and pay my rent and heating bills and still get all of my schoolwork done. Today, we're going on a field trip to see some historical landmarks around Cincinnati. Being one of the few people with a driver's license, I get to cart around a bunch of kids in my shitty blue 1987 Sentra.
This is the car from my dream. That is not me sitting on it.
It's a super boring trip and we return to school with another 45 minutes left before it lets out for the day. So we sit in class and talk about the mosaics depicting steel workers and laborers in the old train station. Fascinating.
This is one of the mosaics from Union Terminal. I don't think they are there anymore. I think they may have been moved to the airport.
The final bell rings and hundreds of students make for the snowy parking lot to head home or wherever. Pretty unremarkable except for one thing -- if I hold my breath I can fly. I float 20 feet into the air and am met by a few shocked stares from parents picking up their kids who have never witnessed a flying person before but otherwise life goes on as usual around me. I hover over the parking lot trying to remember where I parked just an hour ago but I see no sign of my piece of crap car. The lot begins to empty and I become increasingly concerned. I'm hundreds of feet in the air and barely missed some power lines on my ascent.
This is my high school parking lot, as seen from hundreds of feet in the air.
Nearly out of breath, I return to the ground and approach the parking lot guard shack (the guard is played by Justin, a regular at the bar I work at). I ask him if any cars have been towed this afternoon and he says 5 cars were towed in the last hour. I ask if one was blue '87 Sentra and he says no but I can see the clipboard and the third car on the list is listed as a blue '87 Sentra. I think he's stoned. I look at the notes next to the listing and it says I was parked too close to the "pool table." I'm pretty pissed off because I could easily get out of my car without hitting the pool table and that seems like a pretty lame reason to tow my car. I'm pretty pissed off because I can't get to work and I have no money with which to pay for the towing and return of my car. Justin gives me a $5 bill which I promptly crumple up at throw at him and demand to speak to his superviser.
I dial the number for the name listed... Alexandra Vel-something or other. It rings for a while and finally picks up. It's voicemail thing. It says to state my problem and they'll get back to me. I hang-up but quickly redial. This time, I quickly yell my story but am interrupted by the voice on the phone that says "Please hit the button to speak more slowly." And I'm like "What? The button to speak more slowly?" and it repeats itself and I'm like "How does a button make me talk more slowly, what the fuck?" and then it says "You have to slow down. I can't understand what you are saying." And I realize its not a machine afterall, just the woman pretending to be but she's blown the cover now "Wait! This is Alexandra? You're pretending to be a machine!?"
So I explain my situation to Alexandra about how I don't understand why my car was towed for being to close to a pool table that is also no longer there and what the hell was it doing in the parking lot to begin with and how did all of these things get removed from the parking lot in a span of 45 minutes anyway! Eventually, she apologizes and says that I won't have to pay anything and my car will be back tomorrow. TOMORROW! But I was supposed to be at work 15 minutes ago!
FUCK.
Then I woke up. That was like an hour and half ago. I was grinding my teeth and my heart was racing and I was really pissed off. I hate recurring dreams. At least it wasn't the one where Jabberjaw kills my parents and wants to live in my bath tub.
This asshole killed my parents.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In other news, I finally did a new poster.
VIEW 26 of 26 COMMENTS
I used to have dreams like that.
I haven't for a long while now.
It's probably because I don't sleep much anymore.
I like the new poster, I think you're amazing
thanks for explaining.