Dream logic ftw…an old college roommate showed up in my dreams last night, so I thought I’d try to recreate the dream.
I get a phone call, from someone named Joe Prout. The area code is one I don’t recognize, and I don’t know any Joe Prouts, so I ignore it. I get four more calls from the same number over the next two hours. I finally pick up.
“Pronto,” I say, hoping my fake Italian greeting will throw off what is obviously some sort of very persistent telemarketer.
“Hey man, what is up?” says a vaguely familiar voice on the other end.
Who the fuck is that? It sounds familiar enough to feed the space in my head that says keep listening, moron.
“It’s me, man! _____ ____! I need a favor from you.”
No preamble, no justification, no attempts to catch up.
“And I’m going by Joe Prout these days. I’ll explain when I get there.”
“Wait a second – is this you? Seriously?” I’m wondering what kind of odd joke this is, and why the friends I have kept in touch with since college would do this to me.
“Yep, it’s me. So about this favor…I’m sort of in a hurry…”
So, Joe asks me to ask another old college friend if he can stay at her place. He needs to hide out, and he’s decided for some reason to hide out among his old college friends, most of whom are far more visible publicly than I am. The only problem, of course, is that Joe was an asshole to many people in college (not the real person, but the person who appeared in my dream).
I make the call.
At first she’s very reluctant. She and I have stayed in semi-close touch, but I’m not sure why (even in dream logic) I agree to do this for him, and I don’t make a great case to her. Nonetheless, she says yes, because they have a guest house and she won’t have to see him.
Dream logic means that I skip ahead in time, magically, warping the space-time continuum. I help Joe move in.
“Man, this place sucks. It’s a dump.”
I remind him that he is supposed to be hiding from some mysterious threat, and that beggars can’t be choosers.
My reminders do not matter to him. He tells me he’s hungry, and since he can’t go out I have to get him groceries.
Since that seems to be a reasonable read of the situation, and since I’m quickly growing tired of him, I leave to buy groceries. I walk around the corner and lo and behold there is a grocery store.
The grocery store only sells meat. The place is wall-to-wall flesh, mostly beef based on the red and white color scheme. It’s very antiseptic, though, with no blood or any sorts of stray substances anywhere.
And there the dream ends…