Dream much?

It's probably no surprise to hear that my dreams are fucking insane.

Well last night's dream was more telling rather than off-the-wall. No need for interpretation here (but I will change the font for effect):

I popped into my friend Bucket's office (as I usually did in real life). He shares it with two other people and they all cheered when I walked in. The office looked amazing though, nice new desks, all sorts of cool shelving and artwork everywhere. I said, "Geez guys. If I knew you'd get such an upgrade after I quit, I would have left sooner!" They laugh.

I glimpse into Soaps and Donovan's office next door, trying to see if Donovan's happy I'm visiting. Unfortunately he's not at his desk, it's his assistant. I'm sad for a second, then Donovan comes up behind me, turns around and keeps talking to the person behind him. He ignores me (as he usually did in real life), putting his arm up in the doorway so that his pit is mere inches from my nose. I sigh. He smells like a Blimpie.

FAST FORWARD

I'm sitting at a sidewalk cafe, except there isn't a cafe. Instead the tables are right outside Company's 10th floor editorial offices; the view from my seat is similar to the one from my old cube (not the Pee Cube, the other one). I'm eating some sort of egg salad panini. The waiter is a foreign retard, he keeps handing me glasses of water that I didn't ask for.

I look into the office directly in front of me and every single person at Company (that I like anyways) is crammed in. The office is really dark except for some sort of disco-strobe light. Jungle music is blaring, my friends are all sweaty and smiling, waving me in to come join their impromptu rave.

I sit there, glued to my seat feeling bad that I can't join. (Or is it won't join?) I couldn't watch their fun any more so I ask the retarded foreign waiter for the check. He doesn't know what to charge me so I give him a $20. He gives me $24 back. I take it.

END SCENE

I had another dream that I was driving around in a wheelchair along Madison. For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to drive right through a craft/plant shop. Two old ladies were saying stuff like "I'm so sorry you're in a wheelchair." and I thought, "I could totally wreck their craft/plants and they wouldn't care." I think I stole a fake poinsettia.

The best way I can describe how I feel about Company right now? It's like when you wear a hat all day, you take it off, and you still feel like you're wearing it.

Huh. I guess it's also like anal, too.