Crazy Dream #7

There was a huge storm in Nashville the night before last, and it brought on crazy dream #4.

Two of our friends from Florida, my husband, and I had rented a black Toyota Tundra. I had 2007_Toyota_Tundra_SR5_--_NHTSAno idea I knew what Tundras looked like, but apparently, my subconscious does. Good on you, Toyota marketers.

We ended up at some big Ren fair/amusement park/Loveless Cafe type stop, where everyone could walk around and do their own thing before a performance started. I had to go back to the car for something, so I left the gang to do their ren fairing and headed back to the parking lot.

A blonde middle-aged woman was sitting in the driver’s seat, breastfeeding her baby. I opened the passenger door and hopped in. She started asking me if I was scared about the whole baby thing, making sure I knew that I would be doing what she was doing in about a month. She seemed to really want me to be scared.

We then took a trip to the back (ok, so in my mind, the Tundra had a closed back – SUV-style) and there were a bunch of fake babies. Breastfeeding baby from earlier had magically disappeared and I started to get suspicious.

(The random stranger breastfeeding in the car didn’t get me, the fact that random breastfeeding knew who I was didn’t get me, but the disappearing baby was a step too far.)

I asked where the baby went, and the woman pulled back a sheet that was covering a car seat (still in the back of the car) to show me the ‘real’ baby. It was lifelike, but not alive. It moved around like a creepy robot. I commented about the eyes (it had huge anime-style eyes), and the woman answered proudly: “I know. Aren’t they gorgeous?”

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That’s when I got a text from the husband that consisted of an image tracking where he was on Google Maps, a shorthand way to tell me he was going to the theater. (Wouldn’t this be cool if it were real?) I excused myself and left. Yes, I left the stranger with her fake babies to do with our rental car what she would.

On my way to the theater, another person walked up to me. I happened to be standing by a different car and decided both this guy and the woman had been car salespeople. I also had decided something else, because this is when I said: “Are all of your salespeople Israeli?” Yes, the blonde breastfeeding woman had somehow become Israeli and this guy was, as well. He turned abruptly on his heel and left the dream.

BarCurtainHallway-2468C-e1306350318193I walked inside of some hallway (the theater had disappeared) and:

– sat on a couch watching TV. It was a Bollywood-type commercial with a lot of bracelets and stuff.

– another Israeli person came through a curtain and left. One of our FL friends followed him out. I stopped him and tried to explain what happened (breastfeeding, Tundra), but it didn’t make any sense. “The Tundra is a great car,” my friend said.

– one of my co-workers came through the curtain and said: “Oh, whoops! We were NOT talking about you. I love typists. I love the sound of three people typing.”

I stood up then and went through the curtain to the back room where my husband apparently was. “Where have you been?” he asked. I once again tried to tell the story, and once again it made no sense.

“That’s racist,” my other friend who had magically appeared said. “What made you think they were Israeli?”

I had no idea.

The doorbell (!) rang and hus somehow knew it was our moms. He waved at a blanket and I decided he wasn’t crazy, that there was a camera there that linked to the outside. For some reason, the screen was on the outside and the camera was on the inside.

And that’s how it ended. This is why dreams don’t make good stories. But there it is: crazy dream #7. Was it Ziggy? The thunder? The bag of chips I ate before bed? Probably a little of both. But at least now we know, the Israeli car salespeople are coming…

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