Ten Minute Evening

I woke up a few hours before I intended this morning, and laid back down. For a while I didn’t think sleep was going to return, and I had just begun getting down to the business of mentally preparing myself to get up, when I fell quite suddenly into a dream. I was at a party with many people I know; friends, family, acquaintances; at someone’s summer cabin, somewhere just outside of town. It wasn’t a cabin like you’d picture a cabin, but more like a cabin that actually wood be, at least around these parts. It looked very much like just a cheap, somewhat neglected old house…and smelled a bit like the 60s. The screen door rattled on its hinges; the spring creaked. I sat down on a dirty cushion in the tiny yellow-painted kitchen, and got into a discussion with a girl I’ve never met, but know about– my cousin’s fiance, Meredith. She told me, in a hushed voice, that my family wasn’t what it seemed– that behind my back they all had really bad things to say about me, and didn’t really think I was cut out to be a part of it. Now, people say similar to worse things about me behind my back all the time, but family? I was a bit hurt by it, and got up to go outside…and that’s when the dream began to grow dark, both literally and thematically. One by one people started packing in their cars, backing out of the grassy lot, and cruising off down the highway. It had that "everyone is going off to do something and is in too much of a hurry to clue you in on it" kind of feel to it, but my trusty room mate (and apparent dream-angel) was there, and asked if I wanted to ride with him. I declined, and just like that the last car drove off, and I was left alone in the night air, standing by the front door– dead quiet, and not a light in sight. I realized, suddenly, that I had to be to work soon (classic dream trope)…and went back into the cabin to find my gloves and keys. I flipped the light switch but nothing happened, so I groped around in the dark until I found what I was looking for. It looked as it would look in a small house with many windows– everything all angular shadows and blue starlight– though I noticed that somehow all the clocks in the room were glowing and running just fine, despite each of them displaying radically different times. I found my gloves and keys on the counter, at last, and drove off…noticing that according to the actual time per my car-clock, I had to be to work in 3 minutes, and was absolutely not going to be on time. Plus I had to stop at the grocery store on my way, for some inexplicable reason. As usual, I recall driving very well…so well, in fact, that I could draw you a map of where I was, with a rough description of landmarks and buildings. None of these places exist in reality, or at least explicit reality– they may have been places I’ve been through, or parts of places I’ve been through, tossed into the mismatched puzzle box of the subconscious. It was a wet night for travel. Everything had that dark, slick shine to it. The thump thump of wiper blades; the blinding white dueling stars of oncoming traffic on the left; the softer square glow from home windows on the right; and the splashy ‘sschhhwooooosshhh‘ of the passing cars. I arrived at the grocery store, and began walking to the door at an angle…I noticed that a woman was approaching it from the other angle, and that our current speeds had us on a collision course. Rather than adjust course or speed, I remained constant, and just before we impacted she lost the game of chicken and halted abruptly with a sigh of exasperation, before quickly circling me in anger and shouting "you know, when you cut me off like that it really hurts my feelings!" before storming off into the store ahead of me. I felt half bad, and half indignant, and proceeded to gather my things and head to the checkout lane. While standing there, I saw a potato rolling down the middle of the lane, trying to make a getaway. I reached my foot forward to stop it, and maybe send it back the way it came, but I fumbled it… and accidentally kicked it forward instead. A dweebie little clerk that looked suspiciously like a fellow I know named Devin came rushing over, and yelled at me for ‘stealing potatoes.’ Apparently this was the last insult my subconscious could take, and I woke up immediately. Looking at the clock, only ten minutes had passed.