Joe Orr Road Rod wrote:
I figured this was the right place to put this. And I swear to you I am not on any medication.
I had another highly vivid dream. In this one I walked into the bank on Belmont and Clark where my dad worked when I was a kid. The bank looked just like it did in the early 70s, but I didn't know any of the employees. My mom was working there in the proof department but I couldn't see her because she was in back. I was carrying a bag full of retail goods that I had purchased at shops in the area. I went to set it down near where my dad's desk was, but he wasn't there. He was dead in the dream as he is right now in real life. The bankers were staring at me and I felt very awkward. No one asked if I need any help. I thought about calling the bank and asking for my mom. I even knew the number: DI8-3113. But I thought it would be weird if someone sitting right next to me answered the phone and saw me talking to them. I went to sit down, but then began to worry about my bag. I went over and picked it up and began walking toward the entrance/exit.
On my way toward the front of the bank I saw one of my half-ass friends in the teller line. This guy's name is Doug Dancer. He used to be a banker himself. I was comforted by his presence. I walked over to say hello. He gave me a brusque greeting and then sat down at a table in the middle of the bank floor with a bunch of old white guys, apparently to do business to which I was not privy.
At the front of the bank there were red vinyl seats which looked comfortable. No one was around and I figured I could sit there and wait for my mom to appear. I was sitting and suddenly Jennifer Lawrence came and sat down next to me talking a mile a minute. She was dressed in a quirky style, sort of like a granny. Yes, she was a true Manic Pixie Dream Girl. She went through my bag of stuff and started pulling shit out and having fun with it. She was asking me all kinds of questions and trying to cheer me up.
Then a young hipster dude came and sat next to me. I was none too happy with his presence. Jen began paying attention to him too. He said his mom was a hairdresser at Milio's but that he grew up in the bank because his mom also worked there part time. I told him I grew up in the bank too, but it was a lot different now and I didn't know anyone. He said his mom's name was Veronica. I thought I knew who she was. She was in back somewhere, maybe in proof or bookkeeping. I asked Jen her name, but she was reluctant to tell me. Finally, she said her name was "Mickelle". I asked if it was spelled "Michelle" because I figured she was just a quirky chick who changed the pronunciation of the name her parents gave her. She started crying and said her name was really Carolyn Adams.
The next thing I knew Jen/Carolyn/Mickelle had moved in with me. She was cooking dinner and baking at the same time. She was like a whirling dervish in the kitchen. I was sitting at the table working on my computer. I had an Excel spreadsheet open. Jen was rolling out dough and there was flour flying everywhere. I was eating my dinner. Suddenly she became infuriated and threw flour on my laptop. She scowled at me and said, "Is this your whole life, rate and potatoes?" She pointed at the spreadsheet and said, "That doesn't look like a joy cell."
Obama is behind this!
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