Cookies for Pants

Dream::

It took place in Vassar, this extremely small town in south-eastern Manitoba. A place a couple kilometers off the highway with about two dozen houses in it. And half of those with no one living in them. There is a church right in the very middle of town, a community hall where every single event always takes place, some baseball diamonds that used to bring a lot of people around back in the day, a convenience store that I have only ever seen one man work at since I was a little girl.. and a few sets of of railway tracks running right through the middle of the town, with trains loudly honking their horn and going far faster than you are used to seeing in the city. They average every couple hours, causing any conversations being had to pause for the next few minutes until words can be heard again.

So, there I was in my dream with Will Smith, and his Uncle Phil, from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. In my grandpa's house (which is right beside the church) there we were in the kitchen. Someone brought forward this bag of cookies in a white paper bag that they had found in one of the rooms. I recognized them instantly, for I had baked them two years prior. Oatmeal raison. They had been sitting in a closet or in a drawer in one of the rooms this whole time, being delicious and uneaten.

Will and Phil wanted twelve of these cookies from me pretty bad. However, I really wanted at least one of them for myself, and there were only twelve left in the paper bag. Plus, they didn't have any money. The deal we settled on was that Phil was to trade me his pants for the only twelve cookies there were. As long as I found him a replacement pair of pants. There was no question about it - this was a great deal. Consider them sold.

I agreed to this because I remembered that I just happened to have an extra pair of pants (in his size) in my car that was parked in the backyard of my Aunty Karen's place. Karen's place is about a four minute walk across the back of the yard of the church from my grandpa's place. I wasn't walking though, as quick as it might have been. I jumped in a motorized buggy I had, roll-cage and all. Phil and Will jumped in their separate buggies and followed me on a quick ride over to Karen's, just down a street and around a corner.

I got to my car, parked on the lawn where other old vehicles and campers were parked, and looked in my backseat and then my trunk. I checked under both front seats. It became more and more apparent I did not have any replacement pants for Phil. Which made me a liar. Him and Will waited for me, with their buggies running on the roadside. I panicked a bit at this point. Because they had already started eating those cookies, and I had no pants for him. I made a quick dash into my Aunty Karen's house, and to no avail I found zero pants there. How could this be so hard?

The neighbours were having a garage sale. A very large, and tall garage, filled with items for sale at really cheap, garage-sale prices. The items weren't normal old VCR's, children's toys, and old china... but were actually and entirely only indoor potted plants. Fake ones, real ones, hanging ones. All indoor plants for incredibly low prices, the way garage sales were. There was no chance whatsoever of me finding pants here, never mind ones of Phil's size. I checked any ways just to be sure as the neighbours sat in their lawn chairs chatting to one another, but still keeping an eye on me as I shuffled through the plants, wary of me; making sure I wasn't going to... i don't know... walk away with a hanging plant in my back pocket without paying..???

Without telling Will or Phil what was going on, I jumped in my buggy, signalling for them to follow me back to my grandpa's. I had to break the news to Phil. As I expected, he was quite angry with me, but also had eaten all my cookies in the meanwhile. There was no way he could have gotten his pants back from me. Not anymore. Slightly upset that I couldn't follow through on my word, I went into the house. My family was there. Not everyone but random members. 

They told me not to worry. And revealed something to me about Phil in hopes of cheering me up. (Apparently he was actually a part of my family, "Uncle" Phil.) They told me that when Phil would sleep at night, instead of sleepwalking, or talking, or snoring, he had an entirely different annoying habit. Every night while asleep in his bed, he would get up right against the wall and using his thumb nail would scratch the wall all night long. It would drive whoever he was sleeping with crazy. As well as the unfortunate person in the next room. My cousin said that there was a time when he would be wide awake because of this, and so he started trying to decipher what these thumb scratches could mean. The thought was that maybe he was trying to communicate from his dreams. However, nothing that made sense was discovered from those long nights. They appeared to be gibberish,

________

Razor blade cereal

There are not a lot of details I remember about this one. But I could tell you one thing for sure; I was hiding razorblades in a bowl of cereal, and mixing it in with the milk so that you couldn't tell.

Scuffles & Sisters

The following dreams were three dreams that got mashed into one. Probably because there were some strong feelings attached to it.

DREAM..::

I was with my cousin and her baby, my mom, and my sister. Together the three of us walked up these steps outside of a building. Inside was the living room of a hotel room. Seeing as we were in a dream, the three of us discussed a variety of wacky topics. However my drug issues arose, which they often seem to once I am in a dream with my mom and/or sister.

They confronted me. All my drug issues laid out on the table; some real and from my past, some completely exaggerated, and some fake (but in a way, very real. Because it was mine, that dream me's real drug dream issues). None of this was approached in a friendly or a supportive way. And it would appear that I had drugs on me. I am not sure what kind they were, but they were a generic type of drug. I excused myself to the bathroom and tried to hide them underneath something... anything. And then I tried to hide some more out of the bathroom window, removing the screen and glass from the pane.

They were banging on the door. Actually it was my sister. And my nephew was now in the room - her son. She accused me of being the one to ruin him. To introduce this world to him, and in turn get him high. My sister had apparently had found acid in his room and... well, logically who else would be the one he would get it from. My nephew is a grown man... 20 years old. He is not a child and can make decisions for himself, is what I argued back.

Things got even more heated. As my mom sat back and just kind of shook her head at her two daughters fighting over this. She was more-so shaking her head that I was this big junkie, and that I couldn't just fess up to what they clearly thought to be the truth. My cousin, with her baby, just leaned back on the couch, furthest away from the drama that ensued. She covered her head with the blanket and blended into the background, making no noise and trying to remain unnoticed. Clearly she wanted nothing to do with any of this. Her baby girl was the quietest one the entire time, even through all this nonsense.

As the tension rose between me and my sister, the fight grew from verbal to physical. In my dreams, when I get to the boiling point of frustration I feel like I have no other option than to lash out physically. This never helps get my point across and I don't see how it would. But I was trying so hard to explain myself, with no one listening to a word I was saying. So more and more, as I was verbally attacked, I tried to strike out against my sister. She grabbed both of my wrists, on in each hand. She shook me, accusing me louder. At this point, it was clear that the point that both of us were trying to get across to the other, was getting lost in the heat of this argument.

How I got myself out of that situation, I do not know. But I left our hotel room, leaving them behind in it. Let them talk. I left out a different door from which I had come in - this one leading out into the hallway of the hotel.

A hotel employee walked past me, in his dark purple velvet vest over a white long-sleeved button up shirt, and black slacks. And he was short. So, so short that it bothered me. And personally I did not think he was a suitable candidate to be working at this place... for he was as tall as a child. That, and he had the attitude of one. He was incredibly sarcastic and snarky.

I asked him for a bottle of champagne that I was going to bring back up to the room as a peace offering. Not surprisingly, I got a rude answer back from him. So I declared that I was to complain to the hotel manager about him. His response was, "Not if I get there first." And he started running. Well, I was right behind him. And there we were, running down the hallway of this hotel, trying to push each other aside to get out ahead of the other.

We both made it to the hotel lobby, with him hot on my trail. The hotel manager was there, shiny bald head, glasses and all. What a nice guy.. he listened to my complaint. Not surprised by it at all. Other guests had also thought he was far too short as well. So with that being done, I turned around and decided to head back to the hotel room. Somehow, that had either cooled me off or distracted me.

I took a different route. Walking around the pool behind the glass walls, with the water slide and the few kids splashing around in it. I walked up stairs, down stars. I took a couple elevators. And noticed that I kept spotting this hotel manager a hallway length behind me, every now and then. Perhaps he was following me. Two times I stumbled right into him, and he asked me, "Did you need a hand looking for something?" I insisted I did not. But the third time I ran into him, I admitted I did need a little bit of help finding where I was going. I could not find the hotel room from which I came from. He pointed to a winding staircase. I ran up it.

I noticed a little girl. She looked incredibly familiar. I asked, "Do you know Sarah and Rebecca?" (two twin childhood friends from back when I was five years old). And she did. She was their little sister. And I followed her up to the top of the stairs where this gigantic round table was set. My Aunty Karen was there, and I gave her a big hug. A lot of other strangers sat around the table. And there was my sister, my mom, and my cousin with her baby. I took an empty place beside Aunty Karen.

And then I woke up.

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I woke up in-between dreams after the one where I fought with my sister. It was actually my sleep-yelling in the real world that startled me awake. I am glad it did though. I did not want to see how that would have turned out. When my brain gets a little evil and a little twisted and brings past drug use into my dreams, I usually find myself confronting my family. Or my family confronting me. You can really read a lot into my previous guilty conscious with dreams like this.