more dreams
Mar. 6th, 2006 09:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7I had two dreams last night and neither was very interesting, but I remember them sort of, so I'll write them down.
I also had a really grouchy observation: another way you can tell if a customer is Canadian is that he thinks he's funny. Think about it and let me know if you've witnessed this phenomenon, and I will respond with specific examples. Like maybe case studies.
1. Dreamed this in the middle of the night.
I was at work, although the setting was all wonky and it actually sort of represented the library at my old school. There was a table I was waiting on, of these two random dudes. Middle-aged dudes, of the moustached heavyset bravado type.
They're being obnoxious, which is at first fairly normal-- lots of people seem to think it's amusing to grouse about the prices and exclaim over the small size of the menu. A lot of people seem to expect that an airport the tiny size of ours will have a big full-service like steakhouse-style restaurant in it. We don't. It's fast food. Fast food that someone will serve to you if you're lucky, but fast food. That's it. You don't have time for more anyway, dumbass.
So these guys are being exceptionally obnoxious. And I don't remember precisely how, but it keeps escalating. I am being patient, but I refuse to do some things-- like, they want their drinks for free, and I say there's no way I'm giving them anything for free, because why would I? It's not like I messed up their order or anything. They've gotten all they've ordered, and it's not my fault that we don't have the things they asked for.
They get more and more obnoxious, and finally one of them throws a drink at me as I walk by and then pretends he dropped it. Upwards, while sitting still?
The end of the dream is muddled. I believe in one version of the dream I punched him in the face. But then I woke up and said that's dumb. So I fell asleep again and dreamed that the glass hit me and I pretended to be badly hurt and fell on the ground and shrieked and called security. But I don't really remember.
It did get me to thinking what I could possibly do if something like that happened. Not much. If I had someone good working with me, maybe they'd be clever enough to go get help, but if I went back behind the bar to try to get a manager or security or something it's perfectly possible I'd wind up fruitlessly dialing numbers no one answered for a good twenty minutes or so.
So that was a frustrating dream.
Then I fell asleep again and dreamed more.
2. I was in Iraq. There was a brief bit where my sister was there, and the front of her uniform was all covered in blood. I was horrified, but she laughed and said she'd just had a nosebleed, and hadn't had time to clean up yet, and that was all. And if you looked, you could see that she'd been wiping at the blood with a wet hanky or something. Still it was an awful visual.
So we, this group of soldiers, were going into this compound where enemy soldiers had been. We're moving in to clear it, but there's nobody there. We're relieved, cheerful: going around looking in things, opening doors, clearing it, and also breaking things here and there and spraypainting graffiti because we're just so damn happy not to get shot at.
And we get to one particular tower, and the guy in charge is cheerfully spraypainting his tag up the stairwell, and then we hear voices. He tells us to be quiet and crawls up the stairs.
Apparently our target is a particular expatriate woman who was there, like, aiding and abetting the enemy or something. (Incidentally the only reason I knew we were in Iraq was that the soldiers were wearing desert camoflage: it was never specified and indeed I never knew who we were even fighting.)
So we all go back down stairs, quietly, and wait, quietly, and finally the woman comes down the stairs to see why her guards/escort/whatever aren't answering her. And there we are, a whole roomful of heavily-armed and armor-clad whatever-we-are. (note: I don't even think I was a character in the dream-- I was just observing from within the group. Close third-person?)
"Oh!" the woman says, and then is all polite and businesslike and forcedly cheerful. "Well! Nice to see you here. But I was just stepping out to go and see my son. He's not well. Will you mind the place until I come back? It's so hard to find good help these days."
At this point I became a character, and saw that the leader guy was going to make a mess of things, and so I took over. "Ma'am," I said respectfully but firmly, "I'm afraid it's not safe for you to go out at the moment. You had better stay with us for now until things blow over. We'll send someone for your son." And I winked at the leader. The woman didn't know we knew who she was. (Some sort of spy? I've no idea. That wasn't important to the plot, I guess.)
And so she agreed to come with us, and we sort of disingenuously turned her over to the central command with her believing all along that we were idiots.
The dream did have a bit of a downer of a coda, though, when I remembered I'd promised we'd send someone to go get her son, who was an adult person in yet another stronghold, and when I woke I was sort of trying to convince people to go and get him.
Did any of those make sense? Not really. Eh well. Time to putter and get ready for work.
I also had a really grouchy observation: another way you can tell if a customer is Canadian is that he thinks he's funny. Think about it and let me know if you've witnessed this phenomenon, and I will respond with specific examples. Like maybe case studies.
1. Dreamed this in the middle of the night.
I was at work, although the setting was all wonky and it actually sort of represented the library at my old school. There was a table I was waiting on, of these two random dudes. Middle-aged dudes, of the moustached heavyset bravado type.
They're being obnoxious, which is at first fairly normal-- lots of people seem to think it's amusing to grouse about the prices and exclaim over the small size of the menu. A lot of people seem to expect that an airport the tiny size of ours will have a big full-service like steakhouse-style restaurant in it. We don't. It's fast food. Fast food that someone will serve to you if you're lucky, but fast food. That's it. You don't have time for more anyway, dumbass.
So these guys are being exceptionally obnoxious. And I don't remember precisely how, but it keeps escalating. I am being patient, but I refuse to do some things-- like, they want their drinks for free, and I say there's no way I'm giving them anything for free, because why would I? It's not like I messed up their order or anything. They've gotten all they've ordered, and it's not my fault that we don't have the things they asked for.
They get more and more obnoxious, and finally one of them throws a drink at me as I walk by and then pretends he dropped it. Upwards, while sitting still?
The end of the dream is muddled. I believe in one version of the dream I punched him in the face. But then I woke up and said that's dumb. So I fell asleep again and dreamed that the glass hit me and I pretended to be badly hurt and fell on the ground and shrieked and called security. But I don't really remember.
It did get me to thinking what I could possibly do if something like that happened. Not much. If I had someone good working with me, maybe they'd be clever enough to go get help, but if I went back behind the bar to try to get a manager or security or something it's perfectly possible I'd wind up fruitlessly dialing numbers no one answered for a good twenty minutes or so.
So that was a frustrating dream.
Then I fell asleep again and dreamed more.
2. I was in Iraq. There was a brief bit where my sister was there, and the front of her uniform was all covered in blood. I was horrified, but she laughed and said she'd just had a nosebleed, and hadn't had time to clean up yet, and that was all. And if you looked, you could see that she'd been wiping at the blood with a wet hanky or something. Still it was an awful visual.
So we, this group of soldiers, were going into this compound where enemy soldiers had been. We're moving in to clear it, but there's nobody there. We're relieved, cheerful: going around looking in things, opening doors, clearing it, and also breaking things here and there and spraypainting graffiti because we're just so damn happy not to get shot at.
And we get to one particular tower, and the guy in charge is cheerfully spraypainting his tag up the stairwell, and then we hear voices. He tells us to be quiet and crawls up the stairs.
Apparently our target is a particular expatriate woman who was there, like, aiding and abetting the enemy or something. (Incidentally the only reason I knew we were in Iraq was that the soldiers were wearing desert camoflage: it was never specified and indeed I never knew who we were even fighting.)
So we all go back down stairs, quietly, and wait, quietly, and finally the woman comes down the stairs to see why her guards/escort/whatever aren't answering her. And there we are, a whole roomful of heavily-armed and armor-clad whatever-we-are. (note: I don't even think I was a character in the dream-- I was just observing from within the group. Close third-person?)
"Oh!" the woman says, and then is all polite and businesslike and forcedly cheerful. "Well! Nice to see you here. But I was just stepping out to go and see my son. He's not well. Will you mind the place until I come back? It's so hard to find good help these days."
At this point I became a character, and saw that the leader guy was going to make a mess of things, and so I took over. "Ma'am," I said respectfully but firmly, "I'm afraid it's not safe for you to go out at the moment. You had better stay with us for now until things blow over. We'll send someone for your son." And I winked at the leader. The woman didn't know we knew who she was. (Some sort of spy? I've no idea. That wasn't important to the plot, I guess.)
And so she agreed to come with us, and we sort of disingenuously turned her over to the central command with her believing all along that we were idiots.
The dream did have a bit of a downer of a coda, though, when I remembered I'd promised we'd send someone to go get her son, who was an adult person in yet another stronghold, and when I woke I was sort of trying to convince people to go and get him.
Did any of those make sense? Not really. Eh well. Time to putter and get ready for work.
