Cue the Music

Vanity Fare - Hitchin a Ride

I must have been excited for this since last night it was non stop with the dreams. Impressed? Yeah I'm not either. It was odd though. I woke up around 4:14 and fell back asleep right away only to jump back into the REM cycle, and then again woke up at 5 something. As someone already pointed out after I shared it the first time, I had the ultimate Jew dream since I was sitting with the Seinfeld cast at picnic table. I remember the features of Larry David's face being much sharper though, if you can believe that.

The feature presentation though, involved a walk down a dark highway. The road would eventually lead to a dock, where I would take a boat to my boss's house on the lake (said house does not really exist in reality). It's night time, dark as hell, yet I can see where I'm going and can distinctly make out green highway signs for 495 every five feet along the road. They shine like they do in reality (usually due to your car's light but in this case, they were self-illuminated). I'm excited as I enjoy this creepy walk in the woods (I have a habit of trying to freak myself out by doing this when the opportunity rises in the real world). (It seems I have habit of using parentheses and so far every time, it's to announce something back in reality, so let's stick with that rule).

Why wouldn't I be excited? I get to take a boat to a lake house where I'm hoping they are serving some BBQ. As I make my way, I happen to stumble upon my friend JC. I say stumble because he's about 2 inches tall. Knowing that you only fight someone your own size, I sudden shrink to his height and we begin exchanging fisticuffs (yeah, you love it as much as I love my thesaurus. Suck it college creative writing teacher! I'll never back down!) Only a few punches in, and we jump to regular height and continue fighting. (Is this because I refer to Alice in Wonderland last time?) The fight comes to a close and logically I call my boss to tell him to turn the lights on. I never make it to the dock.

Reading what I scribbled down when waking up yet again, I slightly remember playing basketball using coins into a can with Sammy, the son of one of the employees of the camp I went to. More entertaining (and real) was the fact that one of my bunkmates would wear tiny ankle socks that were dubbed "Sammy socks" because at the time, Sammy was 4 years old. Ironically, I now swear by ankle high socks, but an apology was never issued to the above sock wearer.