Wednesday, February 28, 2018

My Weird Dream Lately...#1

     Hello Readers,
I was initially going to share with you some poetry I had written about Bubba Joe Jack (one of them) and my time working at a youth shelter...But I realized something-1. Bubba Joe Jack really is a Jackass-not just for walking on the grass...And #2. I am gone from that shelter, so why bother? I feel as though I really am moving on with my life, and yet, I've had a really weird dream about the bakery, that I feel those of you who get me, will find hilarious...
     It begins on a bright sunny day at the bakery, me walking normally (first clue this is just a dream...) around to the front of the building, and in the front door.
     But as I enter, I see small  children, maybe 5 or 6 years of age, maybe 3 of them, running around the bakery, making figure eights around me, and the main pathway-WITHOUT bumping into me, at least (clue #2 if you're keeping track)...
     Before I reach the counter, I see my friends in the back, busy away working, in front you have Ma, behind the lunch bar, (shocker) Ethel, Agnes, and none other than, you guessed it, Mr. Jackass himself, Bubba Joe Jack (one of them), behind the counter...
     Then a harried, stressed-out woman with hair in a state of frizz-ball, comes up to me and quickly asking me what "this" means...By "this", she meant a pastel pink wedding cake brochure, with writing in a generic, child-like quality block-lettering that stated.

     " We are not your Babysitters, watch your own damn kids."

     I  explained that we do not think that she was using us(clue #3-I don't work there anymore) as babysitters, and that no, the sign should not have been made (glaring over at the regimented and rigid personality-ed Bubba-that never shows up on time, as I'm saying that last part), and that I don't actually work here anymore, but that Ma would be glad to discuss the situation with her. Just then, Ma appears behind the counter at the register to my far right, waving, a snarky, sassy, hello, with her left hand, right hand busy resting on her hip. That's where the dream ended, thankfully. Yet again though, it was a dream about the bakery, I don't even work at anymore, fixin' Bubba Joe Jack's Jackass mistakes while socially interacting...

     Yes, I'm posting this dream in the hopes that by doing so, it will set my mind at ease, and let me forget it? Of course the one time I want my  memory disorder to kick-in, it probably won't, so I'm not holding my breath-unless of course the dog farts again...

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