Enter Sandman

I have a twofer today. (I can't believe that twofer just got through spellcheck. I am even more surprised because it just flagged spellcheck.) I forgot to blog my dream yesterday, and I had another one last night. Neither are that entertaining to me, but you all seem to like them. Give the people what they want!

Sunday night:

My dream took place in a swamp location. It was a sort of garden park, I think I was a tour guide, but I am not sure. A friend that I haven't seen in forever was there with her kids and husband. Nope, I just realized, this is WAY too close to reality. I can't tell it without giving explanations that aren't really mine to give. I will tell you that all the buildings were log structures on stilts and we rode around in boats. It reminded me a lot more of a Louisiana swamp than a Florida swamp. If it makes you feel any better, the dream wasn't about you. Seriously, this person doesn't read my blog, or I don't know that they do. I guess I should say if I know that you read my blog it isn't you. If you have been lurking here, trying to get information about me and my life without me knowing, then it might be about you. (Mine is an evil laugh!)

Monday night:

I am working as a Flight Attendant/US Marshall on an overseas flight. There are two other flight attendants and a supervisor. Which is totally bizarre because it is a normal size plane not a jumbo size and only the first 10 rows or so are filled. On the way overseas, I get into some kind of trouble over something that isn't my fault and I didn't do; I get fired anyway. I don't remember the trouble, but one of the other flight attendants (2FA), a brunette, stands up for me. So even though I still get fired, I am not disgraced and viewed as a hero, making it more of an honorable discharge. They still have to make an example of me, and can't overturn the decision. Apparently, the only concession is that I am allowed to finish my shift because I am still working on the return flight to the states. I should mention that the same passengers are also on the way back to the states. I guess we just flew over there, turned around and flew back for the fun of it.

As I am moving around the aisles, I look up to see the third, blond flight attendant (3FA) hand a styrofoam cup to her husband who is sitting in the last occupied row. I hear her tell him to take it, but not to drink it. It is filled with a liquid that is obviously supposed to resemble coffee, but is too light in color and looks more like beef broth. Then he dips his fingers in the brownish liquid and wipes it on his tie. I can't figure out what is going on, but I feel like something bad is going to happen, so I start moving to the back of the plane to circumvent whatever deviousness is about to take place. Before I can get there 3FA turns and says, "Oh, sir, you have spilled your coffee! Let me take that for you." Then she offers him a towel and starts to put the cup on her cart. But, suddenly she stops and sniffs the cup. Immediately she is yelling that the cup is actually a toxin and a terrorist is trying to booby trap the plane.

Panic ensues as 3FA builds up the drama about how someone is trying to harm her husband and he almost died and was only saved because he accidentally spilled it instead. The supervisor is now there and confirms that it is a deadly toxin and asks the man where he got the cup. He points at 2FA and says she served him. She stands there stunned for a moment before she turns to 3FA and calls her a Dog! I try to intervene and reveal what actually happened, but no one is listening because they are upset and just want the issue resolved so they can relax for the rest of the flight. Finally I realize that it doesn't matter what I say, 2FA is going to take the fall for this. I decide to stop her from arguing because at this point, she can only make matters worse and she needs to stop talking and start planning her defense.

Being a US Marshall, I take her under custody and put her in the unoccupied row behind the husband. I sit in the aisle to guard her, but am so indigent at the whole situation, I start commenting loudly to the rest of the plane. A passenger asks a question and I yell, "I don't know, why don't you punch a Dog in the mouth and see what she says." At this point, some of the passengers cheer because all of a sudden they realize that 3FA is really the bad guy.

Her husband turns around and says, "Oh, SNAP!" Then he holds out his first two fingers for me to touch in response, like a two-fingered, give-me-some-skin way. Feeling good that even he has all of a sudden switched sides, I go to give him two but I miss. It didn't seem to phase him and I was secretly relieved because my fingers were all greasy and crumby and I didn't have anywhere to wipe them off and that would have been awkward.

Next thing I know, the husband, 2FA and I are in the parking lot. I am loading my luggage into the trunk of my car. He says we should get everyone together and go support 2FA at Bronx court. In my mind, I quickly rationalize that of course it is being held at Bronx court because even though it is an international flight, that is where 2FA is from. I thought it was a great idea and I thought, "Well, that's one good thing about losing my job. I am good at organizing and now I will have time to make this happen."

Then I wake up in a satisfied, relieved state of mind that everything is working out.