Crazy day on the road to Utopia.

I had every textbook stress dream a person can have.  Teeth falling out.  Not being dressed at work.  Having to use the bathroom in front of people.  Having to take an exam in a course at school I thought I dropped.  Running and never making it where I need to go.  Have I missed any?  

I woke up in a cold sweat and groggy. My partner thinks it is because she put too much garlic in that new recipe she tried last night. While the amount of garlic was indeed impressive and did require a Tums or 5, it didn’t cause my bad dreams.  Those I was able to conjure up all by myself.

So, I was exhausted when I started the day at the office.  I was able to get some work done before my computer crashed.  Apparently, everyone else’s computers worked.  Mine was the only one frozen.  Maybe it happened because I didn’t have a stress dream about it.  Note to self: Don’t get out of bed until you’ve had EVERY stress dream imaginable.

I walked to the east side to have lunch with a friend.  I bumped into the Columbus Day parade.  A sad little affair with marchers dressed up in period clothes to look like people of Columbus’s time.  If you want to parade, go to Randall’s island. Get out of my way in midtown.  Although I did get perverse pleasure in being jostled into an Orthodox Jewish man who would not otherwise touch me lest I were ritually unclean (I was not).

I did have an opportunity to pass by a prayer station.  I’m not kidding.  See?  Prayer is fine, but you think with all those who are praying, something would have changed by now.

I had a really fun lunch with my friend who is so hysterically funny.  Because I want to maintain confidentiality of my sources, her stories will come out over time.

After fighting my computer for the rest of the day (the computer won), I went home on the train.  There was a guy drizzling hot sauce on top of the hugest falafel I have ever seen, as he was swaying in the subway car.   Shreds of lettuce were falling out of his mouth as he ate. I needed to switch cars at the next stop.  In my next car, there was an angry child demanding “eye contact” from his mother and saying hateful things in jags and spurts. I think I witnessed a portrait of a sociopath as a young child.  They got off and a bike messenger who reeked of pot got on and everything got sooooo mellow.

A day in the life.

Off to bed.  To sleep, perhaps to dream.  (Maybe I’ll make a pot of coffee and stay awake to keep the dreams at bay.)