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    maboroshi

    paycheck and restaurant

    by , 02-09-2012 at 01:12 PM (522 Views)
    Good morning, everybody.

    Dream #1

    I was in my family's living room. Someone, probably my brother, had just finished watching something on TV.

    I was led to believe that I could now watch whatever show I wanted. But I knew this wasn't really true. My brother and probably my mom just wanted me to think I could watch a show that I liked so I'd stay in the living room. But as soon as they knew I'd stay, they's switch my show on me.

    I had chosen some old Saturday Night Live episode. But as soon as I saw that my brother and mom were playing a trick on me, I got up and left the living room.

    I went down into the basement, into a room that was apparently mine. I could hear the Saturday Night Live episode from upstairs. I knew my brother and mom were now playing the episode really loud, and that they were going to play the whole episode, just to taunt me for not having stayed upstairs.

    The room in the basement was pretty empty. It was lit by greyish-white natural light coming in from a window high up on a wall in front of me. My sight was mostly focused on something right in front of me, either a book or a paycheck.

    I was now in some busy place in a really busy part of town. I don't know whether I was inside or outside. The place seemed like a fancy kind of bar. But it also seemed to be outside, out on a street like a small town's main street, only as packed with people as a street like Times Square.

    My vision was still very focused on one small thing, probably an envelope. I was surprised to have found this envelope. It contained my paycheck. I hadn't expected to receive my paycheck so soon.

    I pulled the paycheck out of the envelope. There were a few problems with the writing on the check. The amount for the check was something like $814 or $810 (I wish!). But the way it was written in the side box was all messed up, so that instead of a number, there was something more like a nonsensical word.

    I looked over to the line where the amount of the check was written out. This line seemed to be done correctly. But there was one more place on the check where the amount was written out incorrectly. In this spot, the check gave a horribly small number, like $30 or $40.

    I knew I was supposed to be getting the amount that had been written out. But I doubted any bank would take such a messed up check. I also worried that if a bank took the check at all, they'd only give me the lower amount. I was sure no bank would give me the benefit of the doubt, since people in places like banks always seem to hate me.

    But this was either my first or my last paycheck. It was very important that I have this money. So I needed to get things fixed. I determined to fix things. I thought of going "back" to my job, which may have been some kind of parks job.

    But I was now walking away from the main street kind of area with my mother, sister, and niece. I really needed to go talk about my check. But I couldn't let my mom and sister know what I was doing. And my mom and sister wanted to get back home.

    My mom and sister were using my niece as an excuse to go home. But my niece didn't want to go home. So, as an excuse to go take care of my check, I told my mom and sister that I'd take my niece back to the main street area of town.

    But I got the feeling that my mom and sister now had the idea that I only wanted to take my niece with me so I could do something bad to her. So I didn't push the idea.

    We had been walking through a kind of residential area. But now we had turned a corner and were back in a small town main street kind of area. I decided I should be honest. I told my mom and sister that I needed to go see about fixing my check. I also said I needed to get a haircut.

    But we were now headed down some red-carpeted steps, down into some fancy restaurant. We were being led by a tall, very pale, blonde man with a little bit of a goatee and stubbled cheeks.

    My mom and sister and I had been to this restaurant before for lunch. Either my mom or the young man thought it would be impressive to take us all back to this place for dinner.

    But I knew this wouldn't work. During lunch this place was cheap and relatively empty. But at night (it still looked like midday outside) this place became packed with people because of some crazy comedy show. The price of the food also skyrocketed.

    But I didn't say anything. We went down through some glass doors and into a nice lobby area. There was another set of glass doors showing a packed dining area -- people almost shoved against the glass doors, and everybody beautiful and in nice attire.

    The name of the place was written on the door in gold capital letters. But it was written on the inside of the door, so that from our side of the door, it looked backwards. The name of the place was "EVERYTHING WARHOL." I knew this place served really good Indian food.

    A bald man in a tuxedo came out and made a reservation for us for dinner. It was written on a page from a restaurant order's notebook, like you see in diners and so forth. There were a lot of scribbled numbers all over the page.

    The man gave the reservation to either my mom or the young man. Nobody even looked at the reservation, just assuming we were going in soon. But I knew we'd have a long wait. Finally I snuck a look at the paper. Amid all the scribbles, I saw our reservation for something like 8:37 PM. It was now around 5:30 PM.

    We were all heading back out, with the others in my group thinking we'd be back very soon. But the young man, the last person to go through the first set of doors before I would, stopped in the doorway, the door half-closed on him, and turned to the waiter to ask how long we'd have to wait for a table.

    Apparently this restaurant, or at least the staff, was Belgian, or maybe Swedish. The young man asked the waiter, either in English or French, how long our wait would be.

    The waiter replied in French (I thought of it as Belgian-French) that the wait would be a little long. He spoke in French because he was sure that the young man wouldn't understand it.

    But the young man was either Belgian or had been in Belgium for some time. In fact, he was only striking up a conversation with the waiter because he wanted to impress my mom and sister by showing off his knowledge of French.

    The young man had a short conversation with the waiter. The waiter kept saying "peut-etre," or "maybe," which I kept seeing in my head as "petait." I knew the word meant "maybe," but I kept mixing it up with "petite," and thinking the waiter was saying "little," like, "It will be a little wait."

    Eventually the young man got the understanding that we'd be waiting three hours for a table. He rubbed the goateed corners of his mouth and walked out the door. I must have followed.

    I was now walking out with my mom and my sister in what was supposed to be my great grandma's old neighborhood. We passed my great grandma's house, which had been sold after my great grandma had died. The place was now being remodeled and expanded by the new owners. I could even see sillhouettes of the new owners working inside.

    We passed the next house, in which one of my cousins lives with his wife and kids. For some reason, I looked on that house with scorn. I didn't want to have anything to do with those family members.

    We kept walking on. My view was more like the sideways tracking of a movie camera. My mom was saying how she'd always liked this neighborhood because it was much safer compared to some other neighborhoods.

    I agreed. But something about the sight of my cousin's house made me angry and greedy. All I could think about was buying out every single house on this block, and maybe a few other blocks.

    I wanted this area to be completely empty. I could even envision it being empty. This way, I thought, my immediate family could live in happiness, being safe from violence and free from irksome family members.

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