Monday, November 24, 2008

The Girl Who Wished She Was Irish

I had one of my strange dreams last night.

This is how it went.

Tim, Jack, and I are taking a walk.

We're then suddenly in this office building. A man comes by and walks in the same direction as us. He keeps looking at me with a smile on his face. It's not the type of smile that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. There's something untrustworthy about the smile. My guard goes up....way up.

He asks me if I have an agent.

If I had high self-esteem, I'd probably be flattered and excited. Instead, for the most part I'm weary and suspicious.

Somehow I end up in a boardroom with him. 

Tim and Jack are no longer in the picture.

My immediate assumption is that this is an agency for models. There is a small part of me that wishes I actually was model-material and all of this was legit. But I know I don't have the right body for it. There's no way. I'm thinking this is one of those horrible businesses where they sign you up for modeling and you end up a prostitute.

But then the man mentions blogs.

Since when does a blog need an agent?

I still think it's all a scam.

The man takes out a folded piece of paper. He mentions that my blog is about international travel. For the first time, I'm excited. I start to think that maybe this whole thing is legit. Maybe this man read my blog, printed out a page of it, and then recognized me when I came into the office. I start to believe that piece of paper is a print out of a page from my blog--proof that this guy actually knows me and finds me talented.

He hands it to me. I unfold the paper and find that it's no more authentic than a scam letter from a prince in Nigeria. There's absolutely no indication that these people have actually read my blog. It seems it was all just random. He's a conman and I'm his mark.

Then a woman is in the room too. She seems to be the boss of the man. She has a huge booger in her nose. I stare at her. She says something like It's a waste of time to pick your nose. I think what she's getting at is why get rid of bugars? Another one will just appear. (I'm sure there's deep symbolism there somewhere).

It becomes a bit like bad cop and good cop. The man is cheerful and encouraging. The woman is downright pushy and mean. She starts making threats. I can join their team by choice and be happy, or they can make my life miserable.

I'm not sure exactly how I react to all of this. I think I decide to lie. It seems my plan is to give them a false lead of where my blog is, get out of there, and hope they never find me.

At some point, they ask if my blog is about Hispanic culture. I lie and say yes. Later though I say I lied. It's not about that. I decide to tell them it's about a country, but decide I should give them the wrong country. I think for a moment and then say it's about Ireland. I start trying to imitate an Irish accent. I make the mistake of starting with g'day.

The woman looks at me very suspicious. G'day is not Irish.

I meant good day. And then I add something stereotypically Irish like Top of the morning to you.

Before escaping, I also sprinkle a few laddies here and there. I start to actually enjoy the lying, and that makes me uncomfortable. I don't like dishonesty. I shouldn't be having fun with it.

For some reason, I now have all my notebooks and stuff scattered on the table. I rush to try and put them back in my bag...scared there will be something Australian on them. The woman tries going through my backpack. I tell her I think that's illegal; to go through someone's stuff without permission. 

She backs off.

I get my stuff together and start to head out. Often when I leave a place, I get my keys out and have them ready in my hand. It makes me feel more secure for some reason. I'm about to do that, but then remember that I have a I heart Australia keychain. That would totally give me away.

Later, I had a dream within a dream type sequence. I sit at the kitchen table with Tim and another man, and I try to tell them my dream. The other man is incredibly rude to me. He tells me he doesn't want to hear the dream. He hates hearing dreams. I argue with him, and he says he'll give me a few minutes and that's it. I have no plans of shutting up. I start telling the dream to them. Then I notice that across from all of us is Thaao Penghlis from Days of our Lives. He's listening to my dream and actually seems interested and amused by it.

I have no idea what all that means.

Another bizarre dream from last night: The whole right side of my mouth is falling apart. It's like the gums have turned into flaps. There's this disgusting green stuff behind them. It kind of looks like broccoli, but I'm figuring it's a part of my body that's gone bad. Later though , I realize it is broccoli and all I have to do is pick it out. It's a bit painful to do that though and I kind of dread it. When I finally go to do it, the broccoli is miraculously gone. In it's place...in my mouth....is a bookshelf with books. You lift a flap in my mouth and there's a whole damn bookshelf. The funny thing is I saw nothing weird or unusual about it. I saw it as being perfectly normal.