Weird Dreams #1

My waking brain may not be full of writing inspiration today, but thankfully, my sleeping brain is coming in with the hail Mary, throwing an incredible pass, with me here, sitting at my keyboard, waiting to catch it and share it with you.

Today’s post reveals a little known fact about me: I have WEIRD ASS DREAMS.

Do you?

This has been an affliction (or should I say gift?) for as long as I remember. I still remember one of the weirdest dreams that I ever had–one where I was hanging out with Patrick Stewart and the rest of the Star Trek Next Generation crew at an off-world theme park. Turns out, even in my dreams and even on a different planet, I still vomit if I ride the roller coaster. Go figure; just my luck. I remember having that dream when I was maybe in middle school.

Last night, I had a super weird dream, too.

In my dream last night, I was shopping at a local grocery chain named “Fiesta.” My friends who know me will know that this dream is already super weird because I absolutely loathe going into any of the Fiesta stores. They’re great stores, with seemingly mountains and mountains of produce, but they’re just so damn big that I feel lost before I even make it out of the parking lot.

Back to the dream…

So, I was walking around a Fiesta store, minding my own business, when out of nowhere, up walks a plainly dressed Denzel Washington.

YES, Denzel Washington. No, I have not thought about him or even seen one of his  movies since that one called “Fences”, which I think came out in 2016. I barely watch any television and the last movie I saw was “The Greatest Showman” and Hugh Jackman looks nothing like Denzel Washington. And, no, I have no idea what the f*ck, to be honest.

Let’s continue, now that you’re as confused, but hopefully amused, as me…

Mr. Washington is dressed in a rather drab, long brown trench coat. I don’t remember the rest of his garb, but I remember this hideous and unstylish coat, which makes him look like a sloppy old dude, instead of a dapper Hollywood movie star.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asks.

I looked at him, in confusion and horror, still trying to figure out why on Earth his coat is so got damn ugly, and I shake my head.

“Uhh, no, no I don’t,” I rejected him. He looks confused and walks away. I remain confused, standing still.

He walks farther and farther away, and I stand still, in the dream, for what felt like at least five minutes. I watch him walk around the produce section, with the mountainous piles of oranges and avocados concealing his lower body. I watch him wind up and down the aisles, casually shopping for yellow rice and candies. He seemed so damn, hmm, REGULAR.

Eventually, I snap out of it, and decide that I’m being a huge creep, and I go about my own shopping. Later still, I think, Wait, who wouldn’t want to know a secret that Denzel Washington has?

As I am in a checkout line, I decide to apologize and ask him to tell me the secret. I get out of line, and frantically walk along the registers, looking for him. I spot him. I go over and get behind him in his line.

“Mr. Washington, umm, about before, well, umm, yeah, I’m sorry, and, umm, can I get in on that secret now?” I stumble.

He smiles and says, “Sure, but you’ll have to wait until we get to the parking lot now.”

We checked out, paid for our stuff, and he waits for me by the exit door. When we exit the door, the parking lot is expansive. There are hundreds of rows of cars, with seemingly every single parking spot full. There are people everywhere; it’s like a car show, but with groceries.

I am suddenly hit with a wave of anxiety.

“I don’t know where I parked my car,” I tell him, shaking with fear, feeling overwhelmed, the stimuli from the music from the cars and the movement from all of the people milling about feeling like a giant hand that is shaking me and throwing me around in my own mind.

“Follow me,” he instructs, and begins to walk.

We walk, and walk, turning our buggies this way and that way, meandering through the cars, somehow no one recognizing that Oscar winner and prolific actor, Denzel Washington, is cooly walking amongst them, in a parking lot at the Fiesta grocery store, leading a lost woman to her car, or somewhere, where she may hear a secret.

We dodge all kinds of obstacles–flung open doors, ruffigans giving us dirty looks, beggars asking for change. It is an absolute zoo.

And then, I wake up.

I never find out what Denzel’s secret was.

I never find my car.

I never get my groceries home.

I never find out why in the bloody hell I’d ever be caught at a Fiesta grocery store.

And I never find out why Denzel’s coat was so got damn ugly.

 

What do you think?

Until tomorrow, my friends…

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