God I hate listening to people talk about their dreams. I don't believe they're prophetic, or full of hidden symbols, or even that they do much except possibly express painfully obvious anxieties & concerns one has.
(I knew a dude at KOOP who heard me discussing a dumb dream with someone once & he looked distressed. I don't really remember what I was discussing, but he was grave & troubled & said to me something like, "You know, Gary, it's very serious when you dream about windows {or whatever it was}." Of course, he also believed that quantum mechanics proved human being could levitate, so I didn't take him up on his offer to give me free dream therapy.)
But dreams are on my mind because - well, let me bore you.
My family used to have a convenience store, & I worked there for a while during high school, & occasionally I have dreams about it, because I spent so much time there. My dream last night (technically, this morning, as it was the last dream I had before I woke up) involved me opening the store one morning like I did on Sundays. (By the way, in the dream, I was my current age, & the store was in an advanced state of disrepair & it was filthy. That's kind of true - the people who bought the store back in 1989 tore the building down & put up a kind of mini-mall, but I went in for the first time since the late 80's a few years ago - it must've been when I was a smoker, since I was looking for American Spirits, which they didn't have - & the place was nasty. But in my dream, it was the old store, not the new one.)
I made coffee - you did that, you know, first thing - & there was a person there that I had the sense I was holding over for possibly the police or someone to pick up. Or maybe he was hiding in the store overnight & I noticed him, but somehow expected him at the same time. Anyway, as I was getting the cash drawer ready - & it was filled with weird papers that somehow had to do with my trip to Europe a couple of years ago - he started to escape, but before he did, he attempted to pour some liquid into the glass case next to the cash register, as if to destroy evidence or something. I snatched it from him in time, & when I checked it, it was nail polish remover.
He got away, & the dream ended soon after that, & I confess it was nice to see the old store, which of course I will never see again, but what I woke up wondering about is this: where in my mind was there the knowledge that there's something you can get rid of by pouring nail polish remover on it? What could it be? Is that real? Did I see it in an episode of CSI or Law & Order? That fascinates me. It might be nonsense, but it might also be my brain showing off - look what I remembered that you don't, nyah nyah nyah.
That ends this episode of my boring dreams. Remember, I'll talk about my dreams to anyone who listens - & they're guaranteed to be completely uninteresting to anyone except me & fools who imagine they mean more than they really do. (The more I think about it, maybe that industry rose up as a way for people to at least make money when people tell them their boring dreams... Hmmm...)
Good night!
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