Strange Fucking Dream, Take 1: The Police
It was evening. I was watching a movie with Crazy Roommate and her only friend, Crazy But Thinks She's Under Control. I was knitting (or I may have been crocheting -– that's how you know it was a dream) and sitting on the floor. Suddenly CBTSUC starts talking shit about me, which generally never happened before (while I was in the room, at least). CR does nothing, as she's dumb as a post. I get disgusted and start retaliating. I think I may have hit her due to some really foul things she said. CBTSUC decides that I'm "a danger to myself and others"* and calls the police. The police! (Not even the band with Sting.) So I decide to gather up my stuff and leave, slamming the door on the way out.
I walk to the other side of the building (which is Larsen, and set up a bit backwards in my dream, as there aren't actually rooms on the east side, which is where I started), then go up the stairs, and get ready to walk back to the other side of the building to my room (at this point I realize that I'm not CR's roommate, which makes me wonder why in hell I was hanging out with her and CBTSUC anyway, but it's a dream so who knows). Unfortunately, I see a custodian and think it unwise to go near, because obviously she's in league with the police.
So I go up to the third floor, to what turns out to be a giant suite that looks rather like an attic. I'm looking for Dustro, because I know he can help me -- he's in charge of the building, after all. So I find Dustro, who's just gotten out of the shower and is not very clothed. (By which I mean boxer briefs and a t-shirt, so he has some clothes on. And Dustro, what are you doing in my dreams partially nude?!) I ignore this fact, though he seemed very uncomfortable, as is expected when someone barges in on you while you have very little on. I tell him the whole story in a very long-winded fashion, ending with, "and she called the police!"* He rolls his eyes and thinks, "Oh, for fuck's sake." (Because I can read Dustro's thoughts.) He picks up the phone and calls someone.
Meanwhile, I hear a commotion out in the stairwell, which has a convenient entrance just behind me on the left. I see a small flock of middle-aged women tramping up the stairs to Dustro's suite, all wearing hot pink earrings (like these, but round). Following them closely are the police. I realize that the pink-earringed women are the people that Dustro called. (And of course they were middle-aged women. They're his best friends and allies.)
The next thing I know, Dustro's suite has somehow become a conference room (in that it has acquired a very large table and a whole lot of chairs) and everyone is sitting around it, including three women that loosely remind me of the doo-wop girls from Little Shop of Horrors: Crystal, Ronette, and Chiffon. They were singing background vocals for most of the meeting. I think there may have been a circus somewhere in the background, because it was terribly chaotic.
I was trying to explain what had happened leading up to the moment when CBTSUC decided that I was "a danger to myself and others".* It took a lot more time than the actual events, due to the frequent interruption of the doo-wop girls. I finally got the whole story out (after mentioning that I was "slummin'"* by staying in Larsen), everything was resolved, the police left, and the dream ended.
At this point, I woke up feeling very confused, as has been happening lately. It was 7.23 a.m. Definitely not a time I like to see on the clock. I rolled around in bed for a while, but finally got back to sleep. Little did I know, I was in for a sequel not long afterward.
Strange Fucking Dream, Take 2: The Much Shorter Sequel
I'm back in the room, this time only with CR --no CBTSUC. She's just standing there in front of the TV, looking at me. I say, "Oh, not again"* because somehow I've realized she's called the police, just like the first time around. Moments later, I turn around and open the door, not surprised to find a police officer (female) standing there. "Just as I thought,"* I say, since I expected her. She takes me out into the hall and says to me, "You're going to spend the night at the coach's house. It's quiet there."* (Obviously, a female coach, though of what sport I never found out.)
She turns to walk back into the room, presumably to explain the situation to dumb-as-a-post CR. I heard a gasp. I turn around to look back into the room, only to see CR no longer standing in front of the TV. I don't go into the room because I understand what has happened: CR had killed herself (or near enough to it) during the few minutes we were standing in the hallway. There's blood, I know, though I can't actually see anything from my perspective in the hallway. The scene darkens.
Then, to my amazement, the credits roll, and there are pictures of each actor with their name. The middle-aged, pink-earringed women are back, this time with light pink earrings in the same style. They're just back for the credits.
This time I woke up some time after 9.30 a.m., feeling much more confused and ready to not have any more crazy dreams, so I hauled my ass out of bed.
And that, dear readers, is what's going on inside my head. I kid you not.
* Quotations indicate actual quotes taken from the dream.
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