Vivid Dreams of Protean Venues

So, the wife made a red curry dish last night that, while delicious at the time, has left my cinnamon ring a vermilion shade of burning. Maybe that was the cause of such vivid dreams last night. What do I remember?

I remember it being a get together with my two best friends. We were going out for drinks and then to a French movie that we had all seen before. Something totally frilly and un-macho, but really, really good. Probably the French version of Say Anything or somesuch. Regardless, we started the evening at the first incarnation of a bar that we used to frequent.

When you dream of familiar places and spaces, do these turn into a whole new landscape while still retaining their familiarity? They do with me. The weird thing is is that they are always consistent. I have a warped mirror world in my dreams, at once familiar, but so totally alien as to make me wonder about past lives and my subconscious affinity for hair metal.

Anyhow, the bar was uneventful. It was the beginning of a going away party for me (ah subconscious, are you finally accepting the move?), but I had to pay for everyone. I went across the street to an ATM to pay the bar tab, and was assaulted by an old woman on a pub crawl. She kept berating me with questions about where to go next. I finally sent her to a martini bar. I knew I was running late, so I skipped out on paying the tab and went to the theater.

My friends were already inside, so I got a ticket, was assaulted by a trio straight from the J Crew catalog with their asshole knobs turned all the way to eleven. After spending forty dollars on Milk Duds, I found my seat, meeting vague people from my past as I walked down the aisles of the theater.

Suddenly, a Springer worthy fight broke out during the trailer for a Stomp the Yard esque movie. A man no taller than my knee slowly walked up to me as the theater erupted into a full scale riot all around me. He was slow, deliberate, and looked exactly like R.L. Burnside in miniature. I threw up my hands in defeat as he slowly pulled a butterfly knife the size of his leg out of his jacket pocket. My fight or flight instinct kicked into fight and I pulled a chair off the floor and beat him relentlessly. Then the movie came on.

The riot ended instantly, Burnside disappeared and I sat in the dark, bored and wondering if I should buy more Milk Dudes. I woke soon after.

Weird, huh? Well, enough time wasted. I have to read another 100 pages before Monday. Best get started.

Procrastination

So, I was checking my old email accounts to put off studying for a few minutes and I found out that one person stills reads this damn thing, or at least checks in every few months. Hey lady, nice seeing you again.

What has changed since my last post? What hasn't? I got into a law school, quit my job, moved north, and got a facebook account that has let me reconnect to a million people I forgot existed. The new town is temperate and filled with people who are genuinely nice to each other. I am suffering from severe PTSD from the experience.

Example: A few days ago, I went to the DMV to get a new driver's license. The lady at the front desk greeted me with a smile and a courteous 'Good Morning and welcome to our facility, how may I help you?" I stood there shocked for a moment, recounting all my previous experiences at the DMV in my home state. Visions of grease stained signs reading 'Line Forms Here' vacant expressions from staff, and a belligerent 'You're in the wrong line for that!' to answer any of my questions flooded my vision. My wife, noticing my quick glances around the room looking for a solid item to curl up in a foetal position under, took the reigns.

"We need new driver's licenses." she said.

The lady behind the information desk actually lit up, maybe from the beginnings of my hyperventilation, and said, "Well then, welcome to the state of _____. Do you have proper identification?" Then she rattled off a few official documents. I reached into my pocket and produced a passport (the day before, I scoured the internets for any scrap of information that would make the DMV experience as painless as possible). She looked at the blue book in my hand and said, "well, I will stop right there. Here are some materials to study. You will have to take a knowledge exam first thing. Don't worry, just read over the book and you'll do fine." She leaned a bit over the desk, "between you and me,"she looked left and right over her shoulder, "pay attention to the school bus section." And then she leaned back in her chair and gave the wife and I a wink. An honest to God, in the know, wink.

She told us a few quiet spots in the building where we could study. We picked one and spent about half an hour reading the pamphlet. After that, we went back to the woman, who gave us a number and told us to wait behind her. I had sat down for maybe two minutes when my number was called. Another woman took all of my documents and pointed me to a testing booth. I missed four questions (look out bicyclists) but the test shut itself down when I got the requisite thirty questions of forty right. I stood up from the testing booth and a gentleman behind the counter pointed at me and told me to come over. He returned my documents, asked me if I wanted to register to vote, and said my new license would be in the mail in about two weeks.

Total DMV time, including studying: Less than an hour.

With that out of the way, and school starting next week, things are lazy right now. Our total move time, from signing the lease to unloading the last box from the moving truck: Two and half hours. With a break for lunch. Everything is going so smoothly. Everyone here is so nice. Now, I am just wondering when the proverbial shit is going to hit the fan.