I travelled to my future. Unfortunately the future wasn't meant for you. Upon reflection I believe that I became aware of my situation standing in the same field mentioned in the latter half of last night's dream.
My company was the pallid, red haired girl from my job. I used to be unable to stand her but after having undergone personal growth I simply have no feelings at all. Nearby is a faded red Pontiac. She climbs inside and remarks that if this truly is the future then she should have antigravity. The engine revs, the car lurches forward then bounds skyward barely reaching the treetops before beginning uncontrolled descent. She's dazed but none the worse for wear declaring herself to be feeling silly.
Away from the treeline is a patch of ground surrounded by modern tract housing. Had I subjected this parcel with a home there would've been a wonderful view across the lake which was my backyard. My property was surrounded by wooden stakes connected by lengths of yellow plastic and atop each stake was a red tassle of ribbon. Someday I'd do something but right now the land was happy as it was, protected from the encroaching cancer of civilization.
Contented I ran into the lake, splashing the water around me sending me into a deep sleep which returned me to 2008.
Awakening again into my dream I found myself in the small humble domicile of my paternal grandparents. Inside the house was pretty spartan lacking the furniture I remember from my youth. In the living room there were wooden chairs piled high with newspapers. An image of Benedict the 16th evilly stared from the front page of the topmost paper. The upper right hand corner revealed this to be from 2013. Rummaging further through the pile I found the stack went as far foward as 2021. The final paper and latest edition from 2021 featured a new pope who was a citizen of the Republic of the United States of America. He stood onstage surrounded by beautiful women wearing modest clothes. I was reminded of popular depictions of Las Vegas.
Suddenly I realized that I really should be going through the papers to find the winning lottery numbers! Page after page was cast aside as I littered the floor with rag and ink with increasing frustration because someone had cut out the box containing the winning lottery numbers from the paper. Eventually I found something just as good, a lottery hotline.
On the other end of the phone was a woman with a heavy Latino accent who peppered her sentences with "ju'know" and "mang". I believe she might've been in cohoots with the fiend who deprived me of eight years of winning lottery numbers because getting a straight answer was like pulling teeth and only half as fun. What I was able to learn is they had records going back as far as 2008. There had been some manner of disaster which deleted everything from 2007 to the dawn of history.
"So what are the winning numbers for Sunday December 14th, 2008?" It would be the ultimate birthday present to myself.
"Like, I dunno mang. December ends like in March." She goes on and on becoming increasingly rude despite the fact that I never accused her of being ignorant of the English language and never raising my voice or invoking sarcasm. The rep did feel a need to constantly remind me that quitting time was coming up in an hour and I should get to the point. She had unmitigated gall considering my answer could've been provided in a few minutes.
Long story short, I never got the numbers.
There was this girl wearing a shirt two sizes too small (i could tell because i could see her license plate), covered in tattoos but a little plain in the face. For a moment I was troubled by "Yeah, I'd hit it for the sake of hitting it" followed by that mumbling, milquetoast voice made famous in Bugs Bunny cartoons of "What about raddidge?" This made me sigh in exasperation at the temerity of what passes for my conscience attempting to do its job. Another sigh was mingled with that sigh from being disappointed with myself.
I was simply attracted because of her outward appearance. What's so wrong with that? After all I had gamely declared that I'd hit it for the sake of hittin' it which meant little to no conversation and if I was lucky no eye contact since she'd be on all fours!
Anyway after much navel gazing I realized that I wasn't being true to myself which is the worst kind of lie which can be purveyed by any individual. Realistically I wouldn't have hit on her and there's nothing wrong with lusting in my heart because one of the Presidents of this once-grand republic admitted to such a fault.
I think I need to enjoy life and avoid regrets or those annoying bouts of conscience which amount to not trusting myself to do the right thing.
