Old home week
Dreamed about home again. Maybe I should stop thinking of it as home, so I don’t dream about it as much.
I remember bits and pieces, but I ran into an old classmate, who I’m sure I haven’t seen since we graduated, and we weren’t even friends. I don’t know why, but we decided, maybe because it’d been such a long time, to hang out.
My brother was driving the car, which feels like my old brown Oldsmobile, while my classmate was sitting in the front seat, and craning back to talk to me.
I realize I have to go home for a while, but still want to hang out.
So I go home, and wait for a phone call that never comes. Getting frustrated after it’s been hours, I notice the answering machine is blinking. I was supposed to be at a pizza parlor three hours ago. Now I feel terrible because I never heard the phone, and try to call the place, but all I get is a recorded message about making orders.
I rush over there, but I can’t find my classmate.
Meanwhile, I somehow get roped into a health check by this overly perky woman. She decides I might be having back problems, and offers to do a free back consulatation. She puts me up on a high table, and makes me lie down on my stomach.
It’s uncomfortable, and hurts my back, which I have problems with, of course.
I’m hoping that maybe this woman will have the magical answer to fix my back, or at least temporarily make it feel better, and instead she leaves me there for a while.
Then comes back and announces that she needs me to go to the bathroom.
The bathroom isn’t a part of that office, but is in some larger building complex, and I’ve seen it. It’s filthy. There is water overflowing on the floor, yellow toilet paper filling the bowl. There is also a nasty urinal in there since it’s unisex.
I refuse. I’m NOT going in that bathroom. I have a dirty bathroom phobia in real life, that comes from entire summers spent at car shows, often using really nasty bathrooms or port-a-potties. I often dream about really nasty bathrooms like this, often communal.
This woman is insistent. Maybe it’s for a test of some sort. But I will not go in there.
She then compromises by holding me down and wiping all the foundation off my face. I protest, because I’m planning to go back out and look for my classmate again.
At some point, I also go back to the pizza place, and find that there’s a big slide of some sort, and a ton of people coming in, some of them for job applications. I’m asked more than once if I’m applying for a job there.
Somewhere in here, probably connected with thinking about home, there is a flash of playing old video games.
