I meant to come home and pack and paint, but I’ve been so exhausted I thought I’d venture a nap. I suck at napping. I can’t stop thinking and getting distracted by little noises. The longer it takes me to fall asleep, the more annoyed I get that I haven’t, until I’m so frustrated that I have to get up.
As silly as this sounds, I need Boyfriend there to fall asleep. He’s like Ambien, and without him, I’m sunk. But today, for the first time in a long time, I fell asleep (after a while). And then I had awesome, bizarre dreams. I woke up a half hour ago, and had to write them down. I love being a vivid dreamer. Except during nightmaretime. Nightmaretime is the worst time.
I’m supposed to be at a birthday party for Curly Asian Friend, but I was exhausted after work, so I took a nap and fell asleep at Karate Job. When I wake up, I rush over to a restaurant to find my friends waiting for a table in a lobby. Curly Asian Friend is wearing the most tattered, semi-transparent boxers I’ve ever seen, and when he bends over to more closely inspect something on the wall, it’s like he’s mooning us. I giggle, and when he leaves to go to the bathroom, I point it out to my other friends, who howl with laughter. Then everything resets and I’m waking up at Karate Job again. My boss is there with four or five toddlers and their moms, singing some horrible, off-key song about birthdays or something. I hate it. I ask my boss which CPK I should go to to meet my friends, and she tells me. I rush to meet them for dinner. As I sit at the table, the owners of the restaurant release two female lions for a more exotic feel. The lions walk side by side, rubbing faces, heading for our table. One of them slams its paw on the table close to me twice, as if hunting for a bug before they are taken away. There are three frightened Siamese kittens in the bathroom who run and huddle when I try to pet them.
I’m supposed to be collecting intelligence for a group. I use my fans to fly across a seaside town to a school (college?). I find my car, cruise angrily for parking, and when I open my passenger door for some reason, it hits a guy in the face as he’s getting into his own black SUV. I freeze, then rush over to apologize. His contact lens has been pushed to the wrong part of his eye, it’s not a big deal, he fixes it. When he looks up, and I can see that he’s beautiful; hazel eyes, tan skin, longish hair, a kind smile. I know him somehow. I get close to inspect the scratch over his eye, he pokes fun at me for being nosy. I smile and agree, and back off. I ask for his name: Meredith. I say, Meredith, to help me remember. Later, his sister calls him Marciano. I meet her and their father at a mansion, we go out on the veranda. I take four fans (two white, two black) just in case I run into trouble. Turns out they are enemies, and calmly take two of my fans from a table where I placed them, thinking them weapons. I grab the other two, and as the sister is lying down to sunbathe with a white fan under her head, I knock her unconscious with one of them, saying “Esto es el mio.” When I reach for the fan, it has turned into a white bottle of wine. A bodyguard suddenly takes notice, and raises his gun. I throw the wine bottle at him before I make a dash for the edge of the balcony and leap with fans out. I can only glide because I’m so panicked. I hit the ground running, and don’t look back. I need to find a high place to take off from so I can flee.