The Weirdest Dream, Yet Another Public Humiliation, And The Things That Make Us Unique

Nobody cares about the weird dream you had last night, I’m aware. But please indulge me for a couple of minutes.

I was in a Mexican restaurant, you see, with some people from my current job. There was a large envelope on our table, and I asked why they hadn’t turned it in yet. “Nobody’s come around and asked for it,” they replied, with a shrug. This annoyed me because it felt like half-assery, and I said, “Just give me the goddamn thing. I guess I’ll have to do it?”

As I was walking to the cashier’s station I passed a guy I used to work with at a different job. His head was completely shaved, and he was sporting a red, white, and blue headband, like a basketball player from the 1970s. I greeted him enthusiastically and even gave him a hug, which is wildly out of character for me. We chatted for a few seconds, and I continued. Then I happened upon a woman who has been a friend of my parents for decades. She was hobbling along and had a cast on her right leg. “Kick somebody’s ass?” I asked her. Which is, again, out of character, considering the person I was talking to. She told me what happened, but I don’t remember. I think I completely checked out in my dream, just like I do in real life.

When I got to the cashier, she wouldn’t take the envelope. She said I needed to give it to Kristen, and she’s in the clubhouse. This is a Mexican restaurant, remember.

So I went outside and walked around the building. I climbed over a chain that was blocking a path across an empty field. Eventually, I was on ancient railroad tracks with weeds growing up in every direction. I was afraid of snakes but finally arrived at a fancy movie theater without incident. I went inside and asked where the clubhouse is, and the person said I should talk to the manager. An older black lady with a flamboyant hat introduced herself as Powerful Organic-Thong and gave me directions to the clubhouse.

Kristen was there, and she was a blonde woman in her 30s. It appeared she was wrapping another woman’s ankle with an ACE bandage. You know, inside the “clubhouse” of this Mexican restaurant/high-end movie theater? A place managed by Powerful Organic-Thong? She didn’t want to take the envelope either, but I insisted.

The End.

It’s weird because I don’t usually remember dreams in such detail. I often wake up and realize I’d been dreaming, but it all evaporates in about two seconds. But with this one, I can recall emotions and how hot and muggy it was while I was walking on those railroad tracks. And I somehow knew Organic-Thong was a hyphenated last name. I still don’t know what was in that envelope, though. But it seemed mighty important that it be “turned in.”

If anybody would like to attempt an analysis of that nonsense, please knock yourself out. Use the comments section so thoughtfully provided by our WordPress overlords.

A week from today we’ll be in Myrtle Beach, or in transit, or something similar. It’s going to cost us a lot of money, and I’m not sure how it’ll turn out. It’s a lot of togetherness. We’ll see what happens. But I’m a little on-edge about the whole thing. There’s a very good chance it’ll come completely off the rails. There are some difficult people involved. Three to be exact, and I ain’t one of ’em. Pass the beer nuts.

Last week I went through three days of “leadership training” at work. All the supervisors and some of the managers were “invited” to attend. I mean… It’s fine, but I don’t like the constant role-playing and interactions. It feels like I’m at a comedy club and the comic is one of those guys who continuously picks on audience members. Ya know? My sphincter was winking for three days.

Actually, it wasn’t all that bad. The anticipation and dread were far worse than the reality of it. I can get myself worked up about shit like that. But it was fairly painless, to be honest. However, there was an incident very near the end that I’d like to pass along.

It was almost over. In fact, the words CLOSING STATEMENTS were projected on the screen. I’d made it! The end was in sight! And suddenly… my phone started blaring music real loud. I didn’t touch the damn thing, it was just lying there. And it was all of the sudden cranking a Daily Mix at Spotify. I didn’t recognize the song, but it was a lot of acoustic guitars and was fairly upbeat.

I about shit and was fumbling and stumbling. But the thing would not turn off. Every head was turned my way, and it seemed like the volume of the music was increasing by the second. Eventually, everybody was laughing hysterically, as I mumbled profanities and monkeyed around with my phone. And then the instructors started waving their arms above their heads, like they were at Coachella or something. I was about ready to throw the phone on the floor and start stomping on it, but it finally stopped.

Sheesh. The gods of humiliation would not allow me to escape unscathed. And so it goes.

I guess I should call it a day here, my friends. I’m working on some stuff behind the scenes and should be able to share it with you when I return from the beach. Please stay tuned. I’m going to try to update again this week, on Thursday or Friday, and then I’ll bring you up to date on stuff if/when we successfully return from Myrtle Beach.

For a Question, I’d love to read the stories of your own personal public humiliations. Please tell us about it. Also, on the first day of our training last week we had to go around person by person and tell the group about one thing that makes us unique. See? That’s the kind of shit I hate. Sweet sainted mother of Jo Anne Worley! But if you’d like to give it a shot, go ahead. What makes you unique? Use the comments section.

And I’ll see you guys again soon.

Have a great day!

Now playing in the bunker

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