I woke up to a storm, it was nice.
I had dreams last night, let’s go there.
I was standing outside of a restaurant, something like a diner but I think it was in a strip mall.1 The large glass windows in the front allowed us to look inside. The diner was absolutely empty.
I was with a man, a thin, somewhat small man, with reddish brown hair and the kind of build that lets you know that while they don’t have size, every single muscle in that body has, and will continue to work hard – the blue collar type2. The feeling I had was that he was a client, and I was working. I think we might have been smoking, but I don’t remember actually having a cigarette in my hand. Our booth was about 2 or 3 booths in down the long row that stretched from the window into the back of the restaurant, but as there was no one in there I could see directly back to it.1. Come to think of it, there was one of those that went in right near the house that I, as of last week, no longer own. I never went in there. 2. He reminds me of someone I know but I can’t quite remember… and he reminds me of what one of my clients might have looked a little like when he was young. I have to call him.
Today, my left hand is typing faster than my right today, perhaps because of the position of my keyboard, perhaps because of the hand itself, my right wrist is feeling rather stiff. I need to dig out my braces, this has gone on far too long. And google up a chiropractor. So many typos today.
Apparently, I had left my purse in the booth.
A sketchy looking man with brown hair, an overly round doughy head, faded nondescript clothes and an unkempt smattering of a chinstrap goatee that looked like it was the product of an inept attempt at shaping walked in.
He picked up my purse, and looked inside. Then, he turned to leave with it.
I ran to go in, the entrance was at the other end of the strip mall1. There were other people who had been standing in front of other stores, and I yelled so that they would know what was happening. They did not try to help, but their attention was enough to make the sketchy man get flustered. I met him right at the door, and he gave me my purse back2.1. More and more this is reminding me of the strip mall near my house… I would always be smoking outside of the bar with my friends on one side, and the diner was on the other. 2. In my mind, he must have said something like “Oh, I thought you just left it here accidentally” or something semi-plausible but obviously untrue. I don’t remember keeping him there, so maybe I just let him slide with that half truth.
I wonder what I look like. I think I must look sketchy, the way people never trust a thing about me, even if I were to proclaim the sky was blue they’d offer up rebuttals and look away uncomfortably. My best friend said something about that too me once, she insinuated that it was because I never look people in the eye, and I never look people in the eye because my neck is so screwed up that I can’t. I have to get back to the chiropractor.
The rest of the dream is inconsequential, but for the sake of continuity.
I was sitting with the man on a bench outside, holding my purse1.
In front of us, there was a convenience store/newsstand type place2 and a woman was up at the counter, a nondescript brunette woman wearing cheaply trendy clothes was at the window ordering or paying for something3. I overheard her say to the cashier –
“If you end up having to throw out any of the snickers today, could you just leave them for me with a few dimes on top?4“
I know that the only reason I was eavesdropping on her conversation was that the conversation I was having with the man I was with was boring.1. I meant to add it into the last section, but the current purse that I have, incidentally the one that I was carrying in my dream, is too large. It just doesn’t make any sense, and it’s usually floppy and empty. Aside from the ungodly amount of cash that I have on me all the time. Should I not be doing that anymore? Is that what the dream is about? Also, the bench outside makes me sure that I was at the bar near my house, where my blue collar friends would often be. 2. Yep, that’s where it was, although in real life it’s further away, but awkwardly cornered in. 3. The layout of the store, with ordering via window rather than walking in, and the angle from which I was looking at it, reminds me of a gas station I used to visit on the way out of visiting my most recent ex’s apartment. 4. WordPress automatically corrects my footnotes, awesome. Actually, this statement is not as weird as it sounds, stores often sell their leftovers when the expiration date hits and they have to pull products. If they can recoup any loss and give someone a deal and cut down on waste all in one go, I’m for it. I wonder if any clothing stores do that, I should hit the google and ask.
I want to keep going and think about what this dream means, it felt rather straightforward but as I open it up there is so much to think about here. However, my coffee is nearing completion.
Suddenly, I feel like the dream was a summary of my entire life at that house I sold. Smoking outside the bar with my incredibly normal friends, carrying a floppy purse filled with cash, overhearing awesome deals, while some sketchy man (my ex) keeps trying to steal from me and tell me it was an accident. And then letting him slide just so that it doesn’t interrupt my incredibly mundane day any more than it already has.
Suddenly, I feel like I don’t even need to talk about any of it. The last 16 years of my life. I’ve talked enough about it. At least it’s over.
I keep wanting to call the boy by my ex’s pet name, because it fits.
Am I repeating history?