It’s been a long time since I’ve added a dream here, but it’s not for lack of dreaming, of course. It’s just hard to write down the weirdness sometimes.
Last night’s dream was fairly simple (by Lainie standards). I was a man (don’t know why I dream I’m different people sometimes) and I was kind of a slack-jawed hairy dazed and confused type (but with a heart of gold, of course). Hmm, I can see this is going to be a very parenthetical sort of dream story.
Early in the dream my slacker friends and I were all racing down a street in various cars, then stopping to switch cars and all squeeze into one little car (which was much like my Mazda 5 in real life–not really a slacker-type car). Then we all went to a huge store (even bigger than the nearby huge Shop-Rite, which I hate–I prefer the smaller Stop & Shop) to get some munchies. As we were walking around, I realized I had a stash of marijuana on me. The especially odd thing about this being in my dream is that I’ve never tried marijuana or any other illegal substance in my life (in spite of living in the Netherlands for two years). I have definitely smelled it and seen other people under the influence of it, but I’ve never even seen a baggy of it except on television. But here I was in dreamland with it in my hand. I was still enough of myself, in spite of being a man, that I was shocked to find it there. So I proceeded to tuck it in my waistband to hide it (not sure why I didn’t put it in a pocket; I guess my waistband seemed sneakier). However, it was such a thick bag of weed that I feared it was a big of an obvious bulge there.
Then my slacker friends were all in a crumbling old house (uh oh, here I go dreaming about a house again–is this house representative of my inner self?) I didn’t want most of them to know about my Mary Jane bag, so I was trying to hide it. I was also very afraid of being busted by the cops, though the one friend I’d confided in assured me that I was better off hiding it than trying to sell it, since I’d get in more trouble for pushing it than just for possession. So we went all over the old house trying to find an appropriate crack in the baseboards to hide my weed. We were surreptitiously moving aside furniture and feeling along floorboards hoping the other dudes wouldn’t notice. Then I awoke. I have no idea if I was able to hide my stash.
