an open door

such strange dreams lately i have had. even though i only sleep a few hours each night, those hours are loaded with mystery.

early this morning, i was found wandering naked on a residential street in Brooklyn. i was trying my hardest not to be noticed–which is eerily similar to how I function 40 hours/week at my job. but this was in Brooklyn. on a block that is home to some of my friends. i think i was just trying to find an open door, a safe haven from my exposure.

which reminds me that maybe this is a good time to not be reading Kafka.

and in another work related dream the other night. I decided to play hooky from my day job and return to the night job i held before I took on the day job. But for some reason,  I ended up in somewhere in sprawling soulless mall’ish Republican suburb, where I found the 2 people who used to supervise me (I am still desperately in need of supervision). But it was now 5:00 in the afternoon, and somehow I had to make it back to the city, through 25 miles of rush hour traffic. And it was not looking good, logistically speaking.

There must be a word for this dilemma… some simple term to describe situations where people play hooky from one job in order to work at another job they will never arrive at on time.  But I can’t think of that word right now.

Fortunately, neither of my supervisors took this very seriously. They laughed it off,  and told me not to worry.

And then they both disappeared. And I found myself at a restaurant chain owned by football star.  I ordered a turkey sandwich and when the waitress served it, she told me it would be $97. Of course I told her that there was no way I could pay for that. She begrudgingly said that she’d give it to me for $42. When I asked her why it was so expensive, she said that it took a long time to prepare, and that next time I should order it
further in advance. And then she threw the sandwich in the garbage.

This partially explains why sleep sometimes requires a certain boldness, a certain courage. one cannot always tread into sleep too lightly.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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