(Yes, I am about to write about a dream I had last night. I know that you aren't supposed to pester people with your dreams, but seeing as this is my blog, I think it's allowed.)
I think the subject of my "angry entry" (from a couple of days ago) must still be on my mind. Here's the relevant part of last night's dream:
I come home one afternoon, and as I get out of the car, a truck stops by the driveway. The driver explains that his vehicle isn't working. Somehow or other, another truck is suddenly pulling up, too-- friends of the first guy. But now there's something wrong with their vehicle, too, so they (3 or 4 men in all) need to wait for another friend to come and help. Also, it's suddenly raining, and they have to come inside to wait. (Strange how the weirdest things make sense in dreams, huh? Why couldn't they just have waited in their trucks?)
Anyway, I let them inside, because for whatever reason, I know that (though they're a little rough-looking) they won't do anything to me. After going off on my own for a few minutes, though, it suddenly occurs to me that I probably shouldn't leave them alone in the house. (They won't hurt me, but I wouldn't put it past them to pilfer odds and ends from around the house.)
I find them in the kitchen. One of them is dumping a can of soup into a pot on the stove. Another is helping himself to leftovers from a casserole dish. A third is making a sandwich with ham "lunch meat". I'm outraged to find that these perfect strangers have just helped themselves to our food, and I tell them about it.
"If you'd just come and talked to me about it, first, that would've been different! You could've said, 'Wow, I'm suddenly really hungry! I haven't eaten anything since lunch. I've been working hard all day, and I usually have supper about now." You could've hinted that anything-- just a slice of bread-- would have been welcome, and maybe then I would've offered you something to eat. But no. Instead you go through my refrigerator and take food without even asking!"
I show the ham lunch meat guy that he's ruined a whole, brand new package by tearing it open with his teeth. (There are a couple of holes chewed through the plastic. Evidently Lunch Meat Guy doesn't know how to open things with his hands.) I tell them all that they'll have to pay me for the food. They can take whatever's left of what they've now bought, when they go, but they will pay. I'm requiring that much of them. They listen, not seeming to see what the big deal is. As I go about my business, I overhear one guy tell another that he doesn't have enough money to pay for the food; can he give him a loan?
Next, we're all sitting in the main room (not of this house-- just some random house that's ours in the dream), with the TV on. Again, I overhear one guy tell another to ask me to put some different channel on in the little "picture-in-picture" box.
(Incidentally, is it my imagination, or has that once-popular feature fallen completely by the wayside? Maybe it's still out there, but it seems like you hardly ever hear about it, these days. It was probably a fad. I never really saw how it would be of much use. If both shows are worth watching, you're going to be constantly missing things by trying to watch both of them at the same time-- and if one of them isn't that important to you to begin with, why bother? I enjoy television, but thank goodness I'm not that much of an addict. (g))
So, as I was saying-- I overheard his request. I turn to him and tell him that our TV doesn't have that feature. He seems truly shocked that anyone living in this day and age could not have a TV set with picture-in-picture-- especially someone with such a well-stocked fridge and pantry. This instantly sets my teeth on edge, and I irritatedly explain to him that the reason we have food, etc., is that we don't waste money on things like picture-in-picture televisions. (Apologies to owners of picture-in-picture TVs. ;o) Honestly, I bear you no ill will.) I can tell that he's still not "getting it", and the dream fades out. . .
So, anyway, that was the dream.
