I worry about what my subconscious would say about me if it could talk to people. Consider my dream last night.
THE SETTING: A Burlington Coat Factory where I am putting coats on racks and then taking them off and then putting them on and then taking them off. (In Dreamworld, this could go on FOREVER.)
A WOMAN approaches me. She’s very hoity-toity. I mean, she just drips condescension. (Pause. Wait. I just reread that sentence. It sounds gross.) She just drips with a condescending tone. She is thin and has one of those plastically remade faces and could be anywhere from 35-85.
Here then is the dialogue from my dream.
WOMAN: Excuse me. Excuse me! Excuse me! Uh…HELLO!!!
WOMAN: Excuse me, do you have any scarves?
ME: I’m pretty sure we do. This is a coat factory. I’m sure there are scarves.
WOMAN: Right, but WHERE? I mean, WHERE are the scarves?
ME: What do you need a scarf for? It’s like 130 degrees.
WOMAN: I don’t want a WINTER scarf—I want a scarf to ACCESSORIZE.
ME: Why do you need that? I mean, look at your neck. You have all that extra skin there. Use that.
ME: I mean, it’s like you’re carrying around your own natural scarf. Use THAT.
WOMAN: Are you saying my neck skin is loose enough that I could use it as a scarf?
I woke up with a gasp.
I have no idea what that dream symbolizes, but I’m pretty sure that it means that deep within my subconscious, I’m a Super Bitch.
Okay. Maybe not even ‘deep’ within, maybe just waiting beneath the surface. Maybe not even beneath the SURFACE. Maybe I’m just, you know, naturally EVIL.
Man, that was harsh. That was really mean. And I woke up with a gasp and then started laughing. I’m a terrible person. And I’m still laughing. Ugh.