11/5 Dream

note - it's the middle of the night, just woke up and am getting these down before the details fade. i'll try to clean them up and add commentary later.

Part I - i'm in a house, which seesm to be my current home, although it's unfamiliar. i'm living iwth kurt and my sister, who are also there. it''s night time, and it's raining and storming outside. across the street is where i used to live, and i need to go there to get my old mail which is still being delivered there. so i go out, thinking i can just run through the rain quickly and get this chore over with. in the middle of the street i run into my mail person, a woman, who seems a little off her rocker. she seems harmless, but is a distraction non the lesss.

i eventually get across the street and retrieve my mail, which is in a big bundle, and return to the house. as i sort through the mail, i realize the real piece of mail is from my bank. it's a weekly package, and it is quite a bundle of stuff. it seems to be a summary of every transaction i made in the last week - reciepts, statements, notices, all sorts of stuff. it just litterally all falls out of the folder in a jumbled mess of a pile of stuff. i think that's interesting, but not useful. i stuff it all back into its folder and stack it with the previous four weeks worth of weekly returns and put all of them intlo a shopping bag. just the five weeks of stuff is so full of stuff that it barely fits into the shopping bag, and in fact rips part of the bag open.

my friend kurtwho is in the house is complaining that he never gets any mail. i realize that i've been getting the mail for the entire house every day, and sort through it, tossing the junk mail, and dealing with the bills. there is actually no mail that is addressed to either him or my sister, but i realized that it is unfair to not inclujde them in the process once in a while.

Part II - i'm witjh a don cheatle (pretty sure i've misspelled his name) type guy, visiting fort lauderdale in florida. it's after hurricane wilma has just hit, so things are a little third world-ish. it's hot and muggy. we're going to a small local airport where he has an airplane and a pilot that is essentialily a bush pilot, flying into remote areas to deliver supplies and what not. outside of the airport is a Subway stand (always with the subway). I love Subway, and it's getting close to lunch time, so Don and I get in line to order a sandwich. this subway is essentially a food cart by the side of the road. i usually get tuna, but because it's hot and i might not eat the entire thing now, i decide to get turkey, which i believe wlll keep longer. when it's my time to order, i put my order in, but the people behind the counter just can't seem to get the order right. the people running the counter are a woman, her two daughters, who are making the actual sandwiches, and a very disinterested highschool aged boy, who is obviously new at this - he's mainly watching the portable TV behind the counter. because the girls keep getting the sandwich wrong, i'm starting to comlain, which is when the woman who runs the place, and is the girl's mother, show up to my right. i turn to her, and she trys to explain to me that they're making me a different sandwich than what i asked for, and that i shoudl try something new, and that i'll like this, and that it's a great sandwich, blah blah blah. i'm infuriated by this. how dare she change my sandwich?!?! this is what i've been getting for years - this is one of the two sandwiches that i know and love! and i don't think i even like the stuff they're putting on the new sandwich!! i'm face to face with the woman - we're inches away, and i think i can just (literally) bite her face off and maybe she'll shut up, but i don't. i'm yelling at her, and she just keeps saying the same thing back to me - i'll like it, i'll like it. Finally i stomp off back towards the car without my sandwich, without Don, in a show of leaving. although the secret is that i'm not actualy going to leave. in fact, my keys have disappeared at some point - they're not in my pockert, so i couldn't leave even if I wanted to. but the important thing is that i want the woman to run after me - leaving is my only leverage point, and i'm playing it to the hilt. fortunately the woman does come after me. although she dosen't catch me until i'm almost to the car. she says something about making it right for me, although it's clear that she's still going to have her daughters make a slightly different sandwich than what i'm used to. the difference, however, is that she's now doing a better job of describing what she's going to put on the sandwich. as we walk back to the Subway stand, i say something back to her, and get some spit on her nose (don't you hate that?). I immediately go to wipe it off and appologize, but she brushes me off and say that's not necessary.

We get back to the counter. the girls have finished making my sandwich and have handed it off to the boy to wrap up. He has it sitting on a napkin, and it's clear that he's going to wrap it in the napkin instead of the wax paper. his back is turned momentarily, and the woman mutters under her breath that this is not correct. it's clear that now that she has convinced me to try the sandwich, that she won't let a simple thing like it not being wrapped correctly get in the way of it getting presented correctly. So she pulls the napkin out from under the sandwich. Then the boy turns around and makes like he's just going to put the sandwich directly in the plastic bag! clearly a newbie, and obviously not in tune with the process. and obviously not even connected enoujgh to realized or care.

so i get this sandwich that everyone claims i'll love. it was supposed to be a turkey and swiss on wheat with may and lettuce. that's what i wanted. but what i got instead was one piece of turkey - a gesture towards my original sandwich, but a whole lot of roast beef, sautee'd onions, and a whle lot of red onions. and the whole thing is hot. man oh man am i disappointed. i can feel the diappointment showing on my face. i _hate_ onions, especially where they are the main focus of the food. i can't _stand_ onions. this is not a variation on my sandwich - this is an entirely different sandwich altogether!!! i'm devistated. all that committment of mental energy, the dramatic stomping off, the arguing, the yelling, the compromise, and the end result is awful. just terrible. the very thing that i knew i would never in a million years like. not even worth trying.

the epilogue to all of this is that i pull a few onions off the sandwich, and actually take a bite, and realize that it's really not all that bad. of course now i've made a big fuss about how bad it is, so i'm reluctant to show that maybe i could actually eat it. keep in mind that i still dont' really like it, but it could be edible if i had to.