Pages

Thursday, February 7, 2002

Kids in a Toy Store

Last night I dreamt that I was shopping for toys. I had one of those handbaskets like you see in the grocery store and walked around a nearly empty store. I hated the store. It didn't have any good toys, or rather any toys that I wanted, and yet I wanted to buy something. I found a small box of Legos, from the Star Wars set, that made an x-wing fighter, so I placed that into the basket. I found some other odd toy to buy. Then I came across something that was anomally for this place: a strange flute or recorder, hand-carved from what looked like twisted, knotty wood or maybe some kind of gourd. I examined that carefully, fascinated by its twists and bulbs. It, too, went into my basket.


The store was almost closed, so I brought my toys to the sole cashier still working. Ahead of me was another customer, a vague woman shape, who was making some kind of complicated purchase. I tried to follow as she changed her mind, rejecting one piece of merchandise for another.


While I waited, the manager (or maybe owner) of the store stood behind me and smirked. She was an ugly, fat woman with long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. I think she was saying mean things because I was there so late, after store hours.


Finally, I turned to her and said, "I don't like you. I don't like your store. I'm never coming here again."


This seemed to shut her up.


Finally, the cashier was checking my purchases. He was a skinny teenage boy with acne, and I think he was a little slow. He was not only not fast, but I could see him having trouble with the math and buttons on the cash register. He realized that the box of Legos had been opened, so he stopped to count a myriad of tiny pieces as if to make sure none were lost. Then he wrapped carefully each toy in tissue paper and handed me the shopping bag. It wasn't until I had gotten outside that I realized he had charged me for one of the previous customer's rejected toys. Sure enough, inside my bag were four carefully wrapped parcels.


Outside, my friend Terry and his girlfriend Lisa were waiting. Lisa was quiet and patient, but Terry was leaning on an empty shopping cart and looked furious. For a moment, I was worried that he was mad at me for making him wait, but then it occurred to me that he didn't like the store either. To be sure, I asked him what was wrong. His answer was vague and unreassuring.


I think Lisa and Terry dropped me off at Shane's apartment, though the dream glossed that part over. Shane is friend I had in high school, but we grew apart and haven't seen each other in at least seven years. I was alone in this generic dream apartment, waiting for him to come home. His computer was on; I could see that Shane was playing in an on-line turn-based game that had crude graphics and cost money for each turn. He also had a banking program that was similar to an ATM and allowed me to access his account. I decided to buy something with his money and pay him back later for it.


Shane came back, and a few minutes later his live-in girlfriend came home as well. She was a generic, blonde dream person with no memorable features, but I was surprised when he spoke to her in fluent Spanish (as far as I know, Shane has never even taken a Spanish class).


Shane told us to wait a moment while he finished a turn on his game. He checked his back account and realized that he has significantly less funds than he thought and was going to bounce a few checks. I was mortified. Without telling him why, I asked to use the software. I hoped to replace the money from his account without telling him what I did. But the software was clunky and too complicated; I kept making stupid mistakes and having to start over.


The dog woke me soon after that.

No comments:

Post a Comment