I have no idea how I woke up in London.
Don’t worry; I’m not in England at
the moment. I didn’t flip out because the warm weather is now gone
and all of a sudden felt the need to fly over 5,000 miles for
absolutely no reason. Nope. . .I just had what may be the strangest
dream in a life of some very strange ones. To wit--
The dream started fairly realistically,
with me getting a phone call that something wasn’t going right at
work. On occasion, I guess, my dreams become a little too literal,
but that’s just part of the price I pay for being me. Anyway, in
my dream, I start to head down to the station to see what’s going
on, and I all of a sudden find myself on stage, singing with what I
later find out is Argentina’s number one Steve Miller cover band
(because I’m sure there’s more than one, right?) Anyway, after
performing a rather wicked version of “Jet Airliner”, which is
kinda funny because I can’t sing worth a darn, I get off-stage and
go to my hotel room somewhere in the California desert. I can’t
get the door unlocked, which doesn’t bother me too much because, as
we all know, the desert can be quite warm during the day, and I like
heat. However, when it starts to snow, I fiddle with the door lock a
little more, finally getting into the room and going to sleep, only
to be awoken by the sounds of Big Ben going off outside my window.
That’s when I woke up in London, and
then my dream ended, allowing me once again to wake up, this time in
Marquette.
The strange thing is this--those are
the only parts of the dream I can actually remember. I have this
nagging feeling that a few more things happened during this strange
adventure, some of which involved other people and part of which, I
do believe, involved some sort of. . .something underground that I
wasn’t supposed to see, and I have a feeling that the “something”
may have been responsible for my waking up in London. I don’t
think, though, that it was responsible for my getting to Argentina in
the first place.
I think I did that on my own.
And how did I end up in Argentina and
in London? I’ve never been to South America, and while I’ve been
in England a bunch of times, it was always just to spend a lovely
four hours in the seething pit of humanity that’s known as the
Heathrow International Airport waiting lounge. While I’d like to
some day, I’ve never been into London, and I’ve certainly never
visited Big Ben, although I’ve seen it in so many movies and TV
shows that I feel like I know it. My subconscious apparently knows
it, and knows it quite well!
Now, as far as I can tell, I didn’t
eat anything out of the ordinary, read anything strange, or watch
anything bizarre before doing to sleep last night. I had a “normal”
day at work There was nothing freaky and/or bizarre about the time
leading up to the dream, although as I write this, I’m starting to
wonder if maybe that was itself the cause of the dream. I had a
“normal” day, and since I don’t often seem to have “normal”
days, maybe my psyche was making up for the fact that there wasn’t
anything usual to challenge it while I was awake.
Maybe my subconscious was getting back
at me for not giving it a new toy to play with that day.
No matter what, though, I’m glad I
woke up in Marquette and not in London. Because while it would be
nice to wake up one morning in London, especially after hitting the
stage with Argentina’s number one Steve Milerl cover band, I’m
guessing the commute to work that day would be a killer.
And I don’t know if I’d want to go
through that. I like walking three blocks instead of flying 5,000
miles.
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