Meh. Another session of over-intense dream-filled super dense sleep where it feels like I completely left this reality and participated in another quite like, but not identical to, this one in which we more habitually live.

And let me tell you, the trip back is a bitch. Short, but rough. Like reentry.

The dreams were nothing to write home about. I know that at one point, I was hanging out in this largish grassy area, just chilling, using a large plastic cooler with my jacket draped over as a kind of impromptu bit of lawn furniture. Somehow, I was able to lay on it on my back and be quite comfortable.

(This would be the part where I mention that dreams follow their own logic and don’t have to make sense, right? )

So there I was, just relaxing, when this guy shows up dressed like Evel Kineval, with a few other people following him. He seems like he’s in a big hurry but has agreed to show this group of people his act real quick before he goes off to do something else.

I get up off the cooler and sort of join the quickly forming crowd like I belong. Turns out, this guy’s act has nothing to do with leaping motorcycles over canyons or long lines of buses or that kind of thing.

Instead, the deal seems to be that someone throws a football at him and he defects it with his body. Big deal, right? But he deflects it with amazing accuracy and force. At one point, more or less the climax of the demonstration, he deflects the football so hard that when it hits this sort of target, a big foam cushion on springs attached to a tube steel frame, it pushes the whole thing back several feet with a loud, sharp smack.

Everybody claps and hoots and hollers at that, and that’s the end of the show. His people clear everything up again and everyone starts packing into the various trucks, vans, and such that they showed up in.

Everybody still seems to be in a big hurry. They are piling into their vehicles and zooming off. I am pretty impressed with Football Deflecting Man’s act and start coming up with a line of banter about needing someone to perform at a big football related corporate event in a month in order to get closer to him and hang out.

(And this would be the newly added section where I wonder what the heck is up with my morality in my dreams. Turns out, when I am confident and uninhibited, I am a bit of a dick, and that bothers me. )

I am not sure what happens then, or rather I don’t remember, or perhaps there was nothing to remember and my dream just went from one thing to the next with no segue. I don’t know.

Anyhow, next thing I recall, I am wandering through an area very vaguely like the downtown area of my home town, looking for a place to eat, wanting the money I have on me to go as far as it can go.

(In my dreams lately, I have exactly the same amount of money in my wallet that I do in the real world. I am not sure how I feel about that. It is definitely great to not have those dreams where I have a lot more money and then when I wake up, I feel like I just lost a whole bundle of cash. But it seems dull, somehow, to have the same budget in a dream. )

I looked at a few places, including one where for some reason I had to go through a small business office, maybe a dozen employees working at desks, in order to get to it. Everyone looked at me in surprise. But it was the only way to get to the place! You would think this sort of thing happened all the time.

Maybe the restaurant was a front for the mob. I don’t know.

Anyhow, I decided that place was too fancy and too expensive, and then I passed a place that looked a lot like ABC Country Kitchen, a place we frequent in RL, except for some reason, it was built into a 70’s bungalow style experimental house, lots of sunset-tinted glass, instead of being a usual restaurant.

Eventually, I settled on a Chinese place after some charming female voices from inside said “Come inside! Midnight special! We fill you up!”.

I went in, and a well dress hostess smiled at me, and led me to a table where she started setting up some sort of elaborate setup involving trays and plates and bubbling pots.

Any that’s where it all ended, as far as I can recall.

(And this is the part where I end the article and go the hell back to bed. Later folks. )