February 16, 2012

Dream Journal: Do Not Mail Your Dog.

Well, I certainly had a dream! Let me tell you about it.

I was in some big city. I don’t know which one. But there were skyscrapers kind of everywhere. So big. I was staying in this hotel/mall complex that was, I believe, 22 floors tall. Most of that was hotel. I was there on some sort of business. That was never clear. But I was there to work, and while I remember enjoying crazy-ass Vegas-style buffets and stuff, I was working. Surely.

Anyway, I had brought Q along with me, because why wouldn’t I? I was doing a bunch of work! He wanted to hang out with me. However, work called, and said I needed to go somewhere else, and I needed to go quickly. This was a situation where I couldn’t take Q along. So I was trying to come up with a solution on what to do with him. I wasn’t home, so I couldn’t just give him to my mother, and I couldn’t leave him in the hotel. I ended up calling a bunch of people, and I found a service that would let me send him back to my mother. It looked legit, so I called them and tried to set things up. They were really eager to work with me! But for whatever reason I couldn’t meet all their requirements on how to get Q sent home. They said, though, that I shouldn’t worry, and they’d work something out. I was confused, but I said, okay.

They called me back later, and said they found someone in the hotel to take care of sending him back, and I was supposed to go to room 2020. I thanked them, picked up Q, and went to the elevator. My room was on the ground floor, so I went in the elevator and hit floor 20, because, you know, 2020, that means floor 20, right?

The elevator was huge. Like, it was a small room. It also moved super fast. It knocked me off my feet as it raced up, as well as to the side (apparently it had to shift left and right around the building to keep going up). I was pinned against the glass of the thing, holding on to Q, and being very worried. Elevators should not go this fast! Still, I made it to the floor, and got out. I looked all around, but there was no room 2020 up there.

I pulled out my cell phone and called the front desk, and asked them where room 2020 was. They said it was on the first floor. I complained about how stupid that was. They just kinda said “well, that’s where it is,” and hung up. Needless to say, I rode the elevator back down.

When I found room 2020, it was basically like a utility closet. It was this big room, with a concrete floor, and there seemed to be a guy living there with a bulldog. He’s like “Oh, there you are! Been waiting for you! Got everything ready.” He showed me a large plastic bag with a blanket it in, and started putting Q in there. I noticed it had a US Mail shipping label on it. I asked him if he was going to mail my dog. He said Q would be fine. I tend started going on and on about how terrible an idea it was, and the many ways Q could be hurt. He could suffocate in the bag. He could tear his way out of the bag in a shipping center and escape. The people loading him could put him on the bottom of a stack and crush him. Basically, I made it clear there was no fucking way he was mailing my dog.

Then I woke up.

I’m not mailing Q anywhere, do you hear me? NEVER.

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