A little subtext here.  I haven’t dreamed, truly dreamt in a very long time.  I have sleep aptnea and when i did make it to REM sleep it was stuttered and short lived.  I’d have a dream here and there but nothing memorable, nothing that had ‘force’ so to speak.

Now, I have a little miracle machine called a CPAP which allows me to reach and stay in REM sleep.  For the love of God; we’re all in trouble.

Here is tonights little fiasco.

I’m at someone’s house.  I’m not sure who it is when I see him, but I know him to be a friend.  That’s good since the surroundings were unfamiliar.  The place is redneck shiek so-to-speak.  Dirty split pea colored carpet.  Urine stains from Pets-Gone-Wild.  The television was incased in a wooden box which kept me interested in it only long enough to figure out that it was from the 60’s or 70’s.  A floor model.  (I don’t know why I had such a hard time with that - not knowing what it was - but I digress.)

So, my friend enters the living room and said that he and another friend have some errands to run.  Fine.  Let’s get out of this piss infested house I think but never breathe.  Next thing you know I’m in a piece of shit car.  Rusted over hood.  Door handles are missing.  It’s the kind of car that you have to manually lock the doors and how dare you in thinking that this classic piece of shit would allow you to actually open the windows with the push of a button.  Anything worth something always has work involved with it.  Right? 

Anyway, this gets me to the next part of the dream.  Work.

We’re at the grocery store, supermarket, grocery market - how ever the fuck you want to say it depending on where you live in the country, fucking fight amongst yourselfs - the food place, happy? We’re at the place where people buy food and my ‘friends’ are taking way to long.  I’m watching them and every two feet someone stops them to say hello.

I think, ‘Fuck this shit.  I’m bored.’  I look around for the managers office, fill out an application, get the job working a cash register.  They train me, put me on a register and I’m fucking off and running.  My fucking friends haven’t even purchaced thier groceries yet.

Ah, the moment of truth.  I’m not thinking about my friends any longer but my new beautiful job holds my attention now.  My cure for boredom whilst I wait for friends is something exciting and new. 

The first customer is a black woman.  Pretty enough.  She’s kind of ghetto but baby the ghetto ain’t around here.  I make a quick glance around the store and it’s Redneck central.  Every cart that’s pushed is attached to a man/woman in a plaid shirt, a wad of dip in his/her mouth, and in mentioned cart each one has a bag of Kingsford Charcoal in it.  I sense that this woman might be in trouble.

So the transaction starts off pleasent enough.  She places her food upon the little moving belt all the while talking about watching the cost of things and how she doesn’t have a lot of money.  Fine, I tell her.  I’ll keep an eye out.  She then asks me if we have a coupon for Sprite and if I could look in a flyer that she hands me as she’s still unpacking.

I look for the coupon and sure enough there it is.  Yes, ma’am.  We have that coupon for Sprite.

“Good, baby.”  she says.  She’s bending over, reaching for something, and I can see her sagged breasts.  “Let me run and get a 10 pack.” and off she goes leaving me to read over the coupon and to wonder why I looked at her tits in the first place.

The Coupon.

First off, the fucking thing is expired and the first thing that runs through my mind is that I’m going to have to fight this bitch.  I could already hear the argument.  ‘You told me you found the coupon.  You told me that you had it.  I had to run all the way over there to get it.  You’re going to honor that coupon, baby.  Get the manager.’

I closed my eyes.  Upon opening them again with a desire to read over the coupon again hoping that I had read the ex date wrong I see that the coupon is only for .38 cents AND only valid if you spend $58.64 at time of purchase.  Fuck.  I look over the contents she has on the belt and there is no way that it adds up to the needed amount.

Now I’m double fucked.  It’s at this time my friends arrive.  I’m in an apron and they don’t even seem phased by it.  I’m waiting for the woman to come back and they stay to watch for some reason.  She comes back, I tell her what’s up with the coupon.  She starts bitching.

Now this is part that classic cause in my mind it felt real.  It felt so fucking good that I mentally giggled in my dream as if I was an audiance member to this whole thing and not actually a player.

“Fuck this job and fuck you lady!” I say ripping off my apron.  I felt good.  I felt empowered.  I was on vacation after all.  In a different town.  I didn’t know these people and would never see them again.  I felt like people who saw me, the other cashiers were looking at me wide eyed and in awe at the specticle they were witness to.  Someone had the balls to say NO, I will not be sucked into this place and become a zombie like so many other’s before.  I’m fighting for myself.  I am now my own man, jobless but not having to argue over .38 fucking cents.

It’s when I make it too the front doors to leave do I notice that when I ripped off my apron the rest of my clothes came off as well. 

At first I’m embarrased but a few seconds later I place my fists upon my hips (picture superhero pose) and totally nude march out into the parking lot to find my friends car.

I woke up laughing.  First time that’s ever happened.

Check out my blog to see my latest escapade/art which has …

escaped from my head.  This is part of a series I’m working on.

This is getting to be…

the same shit, different day.  Same old pics.  Same old complaints about the tumble thingy ma-jig.  Same gripes about why am I fat, alone, depressed, outcasted from my peers, or why do I smell, fart loud enough to stir birds, and can’t I be what she/he is?  Famous.  Popular.

Yes, more tumblrs are needed.  But I’ll keep you guys around.  You make me feel better about myself.  Kind of like watching Jerry Springer.

(this message was not meant for all I follow.  Some of you are actually thought provoking members of the tumblr community.  I’m just not going to list you in hope that I’ll keep you all as followers.  See that?  That clever spin?  Oh, yes people…)