Subconscious goes on a trip

This morning after I called work and was told to turn around and go home because the roads were giant sheets of ice, I naturally went back to bed because it was 6:30 and I like sleeping.

Maybe this had something to do with the coffee and being thrown off my usual routine, but I had some pretty bizarre dreams. I also partly blame the guy who runs the Sydney Bears Twitter account since that conversation clearly was still on my mind.

I fall asleep, and the next thing I know I'm sitting outside a Tokens N Tickets, because even in my subconscious I'm a Skeeball fanatic, in a Sydney suburb in my car. (I don't know why I know it's a Sydney suburb, it just is. How my poor beat-up little red car get to Australia?) I'm panicking because it's nightfall, there are no Bears around to help me out, and I don't know where to go or what to do.

I also have no money: Apparently I decided to say heck with it all and hop on a plane in Chicago headed to the other side of the world without really thinking things through. I'm not even sure I have luggage. (BUT I HAVE MY CAR! Hahahaha...) It's really starting to get depressing as I realize that I've been a complete idiot and now I'm stuck in another country with nothing practical. I can't even buy a plane ticket back home. (I got a one-way ticket? Subconscious, what are you saying?)

Then there's a blur, and suddenly I'm riding with a family in their minivan. We are in the city itself because I can see the glow of all the colorful lights around the harbor reflecting off the dark, choppy water. (Did not see the opera house, alas.) I still don't have the feeling that everything's going to be okay, more like things are going to be less bad than me being reduced to a crazy homeless person.

At this point, the furnace here at home turned on with a rumble and woke me up. Now, if this were a chick flick, of course things would work out for the plucky traveler and she would find a great job, life and love in a new country and live happily ever after to the tune of some catchy pop song. But since this is my subconscious, and I'm more likely to watch “Gladiator” or “Troy” than a chick flick, the unlucky traveler would blindly reach to a top shelf and get bit by a lurking brown snake.

No friends. No place to go. No hockey. This qualifies as a Bad Dream. :|





Readers, feel free to psychoanalyze.