I woke up at 3:10 this morning. I had been dreaming an odd dream that seem so real that when I woke up I was disoriented as to where I was. I watch a lot of news and read a lot of political books and articles. I primarily watch CNN and MSNBC. Unlike my “right” minded friends, I don’t watch Fox. (You can choose to define “right” however you would like.) In my dream I was in San Francisco. However, the San Francisco of my dream did not look like the real San Francisco, it looked more like London. San Francisco and London are without doubt my two favorite cities. I have been to London 6 or 7 times and to San Francisco probably 75 times for business or pleasure.
In my dream I had checked into a large, first class hotel. It was not a hotel I know of in real life. After dropping of bags I went for an evening walk. After I walked for awhile, I found myself walking with an older lady. We walked past many small shops, window shopping and talking. I realized that I was late for a meeting in my hotel room so I began to walk fast and then starting to run back to the hotel. I felt a panic while I was running. I did not know whet my meeting was, I just knew I had to be there. After running for some time I realized I was not going the same way as I had come. I didn’t feel lost; I was just not in the right place. I finally came to Market Street. In the dream it was a big street but did not look like real life San Francisco’s Market Street. I decided to take a short cut through an alley and leaped over some metal objects on which I hooked and tore the side of my pants. I was irritated because these were expensive, new gray wool pants. On my shortcut I saw some troubling looking characters ahead of me in the dimly lit alley and decided to go back the way I had come. I was then irritated again that I tore my new pants for new reason at all.
Finally I reached the hotel, an ultramodern 20 or 30 story building. When I opened the door and walked in the room, I realized I had not really looked at the room when I had dropped my bags off. This was a suite, a huge suite. The bathroom was larger than a huge living room. The shower had no walls or doors. It was just a sunken open shower on the side of the bathroom. I was bothered to see the shower was full of someone’s luggage and a bicycle. As I was removing the bicycle and the luggage, the Lovely Sharon appeared in the bathroom and scolded me for being late. I asked her whose bicycle was in the shower. She told me it was hers and she had to visit her family and needed her bicycle. Although I did not understand her logic, I asked her no further questions about the bicycle or while it was in the shower.
I took off all of my clothes and started to shower and wash my hair. All of sudden this enormous bathroom was filled with people while I was showering. They paid no attention to me. They were all talking and the talk was about politics. I realized the people in the bathroom room included Joe Scarborough, Mika Brzezinski, Chris Matthews, Candy Crawley, Laurence O’Donnell and a number of other reporters and commentators. I recognized all of them from TV. They were all pontificating on the election, the country and other current events. None of them looked at me while I showered. I was not embarrassed as I showered I just kept showering and listening to them talk. They didn’t really have conversations with each other, rather it seemed that they took turns espousing one view or another.
I finishing showering, dried off, brushed my teeth and began to dress. I realized the only pants I had were the gray wool pants I had torn in the alley. I put them on again and again felt irritation for tearing them. After I dressed, I looked around and everyone, including the Lovely Sharon, was gone. Her bicycle and luggage were also gone. Then it struck me that I did not remember why I had traveled to San Francisco.
At that point I walk up, looked at the clock and saw that it was 3:10. I turned on the light and started reading an issue of The Republic Magazine.
An odd dream to be sure. I have always wondered what causes a person to have a particular dream. I will be glad when the election is over, maybe I can get back to regular dreams. I am glad there were no Fox News people in the bathroom while I was showering.
I promise I will not post anymore blogs about my dreams (at least for a long time).
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