This dream had quite a jumbled collection.
It starts with me returning. I was off to the military; now I was back. People had been staying in my place while I was away, but that was done with my permission. Things were a little out of hand because they’d treated it like a party crib. I had a stern conversation with them; yes, they were welcome to stay there. Sure, it was okay to have people over, but they’d start trashing things, and that wasn’t appreciated. They were very understanding in return.
Then I was tidying. I had shelves of old electronics, mostly stereos, cassette and 8-track tape players, CD players, and VHS players. The dust on some were thick. As I resettled back into life, I exclaimed to myself, “Man, I have a lot of gear here. How the hell did I get it all?”
A young boy came up. He didn’t pay any attention to me. He seemed to be looking for something so I asked, “What’s up?”
The boy answered, “I’m looking for a music player for my friend. He wants one for his bicycle.”
I said, “I think I can help him.” I pulled out a small black box and dusted it off. “This has a radio and tape player. It’s small and he can mount it on his handlebars.” I looked more closely at the black box. “It also has record player on it so I don’t know if he would want it.”
“That’s okay,” the boy said. Taking it, he went away.
In a weird dream shift, my place was both outside and inside. I worried about my cats. I had two, and they were a plush gray with golden eyes. Both were young. I looked around for them. They were busy investigating things just outside and playing. When I called their names, they hastened to me, which mitigated my worries.
Then, I worried about my schedule. I needed to call and find out where and when I needed to be for work. Going through my cluttered place, I picked up the phone and dialed 633 while going to my desk to find what the final four numbers were. A woman answered the phone, “Operator intersect.”
I laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t expect that,” I said. “What’s an operator intersect?”
The operator explained, “The call is diverted to the operator whenever the call is not completed but the line is open in case someone has an emergency but can’t finish dialing.”
I answered, “Sorry, I just don’t know where I’m calling. My bad.”
Next, I thought, oh, I should call Mom. So I did. Answering before a ring finished, she said, “About time.” No hello or anything else.
Irritation jumped through me. “Wait, are you pissed because I didn’t immediately call you when I got home? Is that what’s going on here?” She did not answer. I said, “You’re being childish. I’m going to count down from five. If you don’t start talking before I’m done with the countdown, I’m hanging up. Understand?”
No answer.
I began the countdown. When I said, “Three,” I went on, “Oh, forget this. This is stupid. You’re an adult, Mom, and you’re behaving like a child.”
Then I hung up on my mother.
Dream end.
Michael Seidel, writer 