I found a large, light-brown and white, fluffy, lost dog in Portland, Maine. Instead of asking around there, I drove up to my home town, two and a half hours away. Once at camp, I asked the neighbor if she knew who’s dog it was. She had a couple guys over to do yard work, one of which was a coworker from Cali, the others were my brothers. They were eating their organic lunches around an old oil drum and Brother K was playing banjo. I wondered when he had learned because he was amazing!
My coworker drew me a map on a napkin of where the dog might live. Then Sparkles asked if I’d checked the tags on the collar. No! So I ran back to read the tags. There were so many. He’d had all of his vaccines and more. And yes, he lived down the street. Strange that my coworker knew where the dog lived and that I found the dog 150 miles from home.
I went back behind the garage to get the map from them, but they all had cleaned up the mess and gone back to work. How would I find the place without my Coworker’s map?
I brought the dog home, then Sparkles was driving me around in his minvan. We almost had an accident as two cars sped through a red light. Sparkles was unfazed and was pointing around and still talking about how all the industries are leaving Hartford. It was looking pretty desolate.
I was in a restaurant, trying to find a table for a date with a Secret Asian Man. We’d had a good date before, but the restaurant was packed this time. I was told we could have the worst table in the house that would probably get us covered in beer and worse. I said yes.
The table was upstairs, crowded between two other tables. I didn’t know how we would get covered in beer unless there was some aquatics show from here. But the table was horrible. Not only was it tippy, but my chair was so short that I could barely see over the table. As part of sitting there, they brought me a Mac Book Pro that constantly repeated the Windows startup chimes. Over and over again. I just turned off the volume, closed it, and set it on the empty table next to us. No reason to ruin an already fucked up dinner.
Secret Asian Man showed up late and we ate. Then he skipped out just in time for the bill. I was pretty pissed when I got back to my hotel, but I arrived to find stacks and stacks of toys, and the whole staff from the magazine in the Girl With The Dragon Tattoo books (not the movie. I replaced them all with my own actors). They were writing a Christmas gift issue, but they all had too much eggnog as there were doors flung open with people groping each other and making out inside. They were constantly trading partners, and everyone was so touchy feely, I was so lost. I was there to help, but I kept getting dragged from room to room. Just when I thought it was my turn to make out with some hot guy, the grumpy guy in the room next to us opened the door and yelled at us to quiet down, so we moved to another room.
In that enormous room was Kalle Blomkvist, surrounded by toys and a printing press, hard at work, rereading copy before it was printed. I stood beside him silently for a moment, then reached down and started tracing the lines on the inside of his palm. He grumbled something about me being difficult, then he slowly took my hand. I’d found what I was looking for.
At this point, I couldn’t stop tossing and turning and knew that if I tried to get back into the same dream, I’d be somewhere different, so I decided to wake up at 6 am instead.
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