A Chris Themed Dream?

Tonight I had a really weird dream with 3 different Chris. I have not idea how to pluralize Chris right now as it is 5:30 in the morning and I am barely awake. Back to the dream. I don't use names on my blog, but I don't really see a way around this and it none of the people I mention are in contact with me now, so I guess it won't matter.

I was in a yellow 4-door sedan. It was old, from the seventies or something like that. Considering I am from the seventies, I would like to rephrase that to say it was middle aged. No, wait, it was, um in the prime of its life? Forget it. Anyway, my mom, dad and aunt were in the backseat. In the front seat was a girl-Kris, and a guy-Chris I used to make out with on occasion when I was about 19. I just reread that and would like to be clear; I only made out with the guy. It wasn't like I was having a threesome with Chris people. Wow, that got weird in a hurry.

The Kris and my parents were in town visiting. We were at some strip mall having just eaten at a restaurant. Kris was driving and decided to get out of the crowded parking lot by backing up onto the walkway in front of the strip mall to drive on the sidewalk around the cars back onto the parking lot. I questioned it and she said it was totally legal where she lives and started backing up. I was sitting in the passenger seat watching the cars beside us. She backed up but turned too soon and ran into the corner of the parked car sitting next to us. I saw this happening but couldn't tell her. Being a dream, I instead had a conversation with my father about how I didn't think she saw the parked cars like I did.

Instead of stopping when she took off the corner of the car, she kept backing up. The line of her trajectory had her scraping along the back of the next three cars in line. We finally yelled at her to stop. Which she did and got out to survey the mess. As we were sizing up the situation, a cop car pulled into the parking lot, flashed its lights once and stopped in front of us. I panicked because I realized I was suddenly sitting in the drivers' seat. There was a quick conversation in the car and we decided to tell the cop that Chris was the one driving. Apparently we came up with a dream-plausible reason for this, in case the cop asked.

The minute the cop walked up to the car, I started flirting. Not because he was attractive, but because I thought we could use all the help we could get. He was attractive though. Not hot exactly, but more my type. Yes, I know that sounds weird. I typically go for unorthodox looking guys. He was tall, with a round face a round middle, beefy upper body and kind eyes. (Yes, I like my guys with some middle, some squish to cuddle against. Six pack abs are hard and uncomfortable.) I must say I was totally on point. The cop was very taken with me and gave me his business card, in case I needed to contact him later with any questions. After he walked away, there was much discussion about my interaction. My father was telling my mom all about how that is how you have to act and gave a compliment akin to "That's my girl."

As we were getting out of the car, I looked at the card with the name Detective Chris Johnson. Mentally deciding that I would indeed have some questions later, I slipped the card into my pocket. Officer Chris came back and asked to speak to me and my father. He told us that in a few moments the officers who would be handling the case would be here and there would be a round of questioning for Make-Out-Chris. He was able to inform us as to the nature of the questioning with out really saying it. (There is a word for that whole phrase, but I am too tired to think of it.) Basically they were going to ask him a bunch of questions about pot. He liked us (me) and wanted to help us (me) out in any way possible, but since he was the first officer on the scene, he could not tell Make-Out-Chris himself.

My dad declined and sent me over to talk to him. Keep in mind that Make-Out-Chris was still 19 in this dream, so I was no longer attracted to him, he was more like a brother or cousin at this point. Before the other officers showed up, I was able to discuss this with him. I should mention that the reason for all this concern was that he was noticeably slow mentally. Not mentally challenged, just not quite quick witted enough to evade all the questioning without prepping.

This was only a dream aspect of Make-Out-Chris. When I was making out with him, he was in no way slow. Also I am not sure if he smoked pot back in the day, but given the crowd, it was highly likely. I am saying this because most people know my aversion to dating anyone who like the herb and understand that both of these things are pretty abnormal for me to be attracted to. Not that it mattered the dream because again, he was 19 and too young for me to be attracted to him.

So the secondary police officers arrive on the scene and Officer Chris drives away IN A WHITE 80s A-TEAM VAN! I kid you not. This van was the exact same, painted white with a blue strip diagonally down the side. To refresh your memory:


I recognized the shape because of the spoiler on top. (Why does a van need a spoiler? I guess since it is driven by Mr. T., I can understand and will not rant.) Sadly, I was suddenly very excited and decided I was definitely going to have some questions later for Officer Chris. Like how the freak he was allowed to have that van as a police car. It. Was. Awesome. Sadly, I am still excited.

The dream fast forwards to a day at the beach with my brothers and a few of their friends. (I don't remember exactly who.) For some reason we were soaked to the skin. Oddly we were still in Colorado. A section of beach and the highway leading away from it were just cut and pasted into the dream by my brain. We stop at a gas station to use the rest room and buy some snacks when they leave without me! Yup. They just totally forget about me and drive off. I am left standing outside.

All I have are the clothes on my back. I can't call my brother to tell him what a dumbass he is because I don't have my cell and don't have his number memorized. I have a minor philosophical conversation with myself about how times have changed and no one memorizes numbers anymore. But then, I reach into my pocket and find (fanfare) Officer Chris' card. It is dilapidated and soggy around the edges, but the number is intact.

I call. Seconds later the white, A-Team van drives up. With my heart all a-flutter at being rescued, I get into the van. We have an awesome, flirty conversation. Apparently I am looking for a job or considering going back to school. He tells me about a job and a school right next door to each other.

Then the dream cuts to me in a restaurant waiting for food. It is now nighttime I am still wet, I think I am now barefoot and a friend is waiting outside to take me home. I go out and tell him that I am still waiting on food, but am going to run next door to get applications for a job I heard about and look at the "school." We are waiting at yet another strip mall, so I have no idea what kind of school this is, but have the vague impression that it is a trade school of some sort. He tells me he is going to drive around the corner to run an errand but will be right back.

I get the applications go back to the restaurant and the lady behind the counter hands me a huge cellophane bag with hot dog buns in it. I take it and she explains that because she is sorry for the wait, she has given me 3 more hot dogs and extra buns, in case I want them later. I am now happy about the $2 hot dog that I purchased since it will give me leftovers for the week. Before that I was angry at the absurd price of $2. And I am elated that the hot dog buns appear to be whole wheat. There is so much wrong here that I can't even comment.

I go outside in time to see the the A-Team van drive off. I get into the car with the giant bag, prompting my friend to comment that I have, "Yet another week's worth of food." I ask him about Officer Chris and he tells me that Chris was checking up on me to make sure I had gotten home safely. My friend told him that I was getting a ride home with him and all was well. Chris then tells him how he also was checking to see if I needed help with the applications because he is certified in paperwork.

Hold on, I have to stop and laugh. Even in the dream we find that ludicrous and have a nice chuckle. I defend Officer Chris by saying that he is kind of a boy scout and really nice guy, so he is not really as goofy as he came off. We sit quietly for a few minutes driving up Broadway. I then turn to my friend and say, "I think I like Officer Chris, is it weird for me to tell you that?" (My friend is about 10 - 15 years older and is more of a fatherly type guy in my life which is why it would be weird to get all twitterpated with him. That is more of a girl to girl conversation in my head I guess.)

And then I wake up. With heartburn. Really, really bad heartburn. What that has to do with the dream, I don't know. Maybe it is all the $2 hotdogs I ate. But it did keep me from going back to sleep which in turn led me to write this all out. So you can thank the heartburn while I curse it.

As I think through my dream again, (I am not going to reread and edit, so just be happy you are getting a post as you judge all the errors.) I am noticing an "I am old" theme running through out along side the Chris theme. Let's not forget the real moral of this story. I would date anyone driving personalized A-Team van.

It is nice to know that nostalgic cheese is the real key to my heart. Like that was a huge secret.

Coping with Laughter Runs in the Family

This memory popped into my head today. My dad's father was living in a nursing home after having his leg amputated. One day, while my aunt was visiting, a nurse came in and told him it was time for her to clip his toenails. He looked at her while pointing to his prosthetic leg and said, "All right. But be careful. Look what happened the last time." The nurse was visibly shocked, but my aunt burst out laughing.

I miss that man!

On another note, my mom will be out here this month to visit me. She is going to help me clean the condo and do minor repairs to help get it ready in case I do decide to sell. One of the things we had talked about was turning my guest bedroom into a craft room/office. I hate how the queen size mattress takes up most of the room when it is only used four or five times a year. She has offered to build me a murphy bed type structure to house it in during non-visiting times. When we were talking about it earlier, I realized that will solve one of my pending dilemmas in selling my home.

I wanted to rent an apartment to save money and pay off my debt. However, since I don't want to leave downtown, it was becoming apparent that rent was not going to be much cheaper than a mortgage. I have lived in a studio sized place before and hated the bed being out in the open. Plus, now that I have graduated to a grown-up sized bed (queen instead of twin), I was worried about it taking up the whole room so I was stuck looking at pricey, ugly one-bedrooms. With this new contraption, I wouldn't have to worry about it and can start looking again at all the cute, urban studios I had to reject out of hand simply because of their size.

It is amazing to me how one little thing can change my outlook on everything. All of a sudden, I am excited and looking forward to selling. It isn't that I don't want to own, but I am looking forward to losing this financial burden right now. Also, it does reopen the possibility of still owning, but just downsizing. I can probably buy a place for half of what I own now. I was so depressed by what I thought I was facing, it was kind of bringing me down. Now I am can't wait to get out there and see what I can find.

That is all for today!

I Thought I Was Playing It Cool

Probably my absolute favorite memory of myself as a kid was when I tried to have a grown up conversation with my uncle. I love it because I can remember what was going on in my mind as a child as well as now seeing it from an adult point of view.

My dad comes from a very large family. He has 13 brothers and sisters, so family dinners at Grandma's were always a little chaotic. This wasn't a full gathering; we were all squeezed together at the main dining table. I managed to secure my favorite place as usual. It was a chair just to the left of center on the long side of the table that was up against the wall. No one else wanted to sit there because once you got in, you were trapped for the duration of the meal. I, however, loved it because it was the only seat where you could get a direct view of the living room TV that remained on during dinner.

This was long before we knew I had ADD. Back then when I was in a crowded room, I couldn't filter out sounds. I heard every voice, conversation, word and noise at the same time, which was overwhelmingly difficult to process. It was easier to daydream and shut it all out which left me feeling isolated even as a young kid. I never knew what was going on around me and always had to play catch up anytime someone spoke to me. Hence my favorite TV chair. It gave me something visual to focus on so that I could block out the noise. In dire situations, I could blame the TV if I failed to respond to someone. Oddly enough, lack of noise could draw my attention. Which is why I noticed my uncle sitting across from me not saying anything.

He wasn't looking at me; he seemed not to be looking at anything. But, he did look kind of left out, so I felt obligated to talk to him so he would feel included. He was very grown up, in his late teens or early twenties, and I was only about six so I thought I should probably have a mature conversation with him. I didn't know what to say, but suddenly a commercial appeared on TV that I recognized. Since I never had a clue what they were talking about, It was obviously a grown up topic. I figured I would just ask the same question they always did and pretend to understand whatever answer he gave. So, I looked at him asked.

He stared at me for the longest time before he burst out laughing which silenced the rest of the room. For a while, people just stared at him like he had lost his mind since no one else was laughing or seemed to know what had happened. They kept trying to ask him what was so funny but he was laughing too hard to talk. Finally, he pointed at me and my dad asked me to explain. I shrugged my shoulders and said, "I don't know. All I did was ask him, 'What do you do when hemorrhoids flare up?'"

A few years ago, the memory, along with a sudden understanding, randomly came to mind. I couldn't stop laughing either.