I crashed after work for almost an hour this evening. Normally, I’d consider a nap to be a tiny slice of heaven, but today’s was filled with a completely bizarre dream. I actually remember a quite a bit of it, which is unusual in itself.
Apparently I was having a party at my house, only it wasn’t really my house. And lots of people I know in real life were there. And some that I don’t know. One guy was already shitfaced when he arrived and was yelling and falling down and just being generally obnoxious. And everyone else seemed to think it was the greatest thing ever, but I was seriously annoyed. Then he knocked a bunch of vases and framed photos off a shelf and everything broke and I blew up and told him to get out of my house. Suddenly I was the bad guy for making him leave.
So I ended up going to my room (also not really my room) to try and calm down and determine if I was over-reacting and why everyone was being so crazy. And it turns out another guy and his girlfriend are in my bathroom. She is laying in the bathtub and he’s coloring her hair and there is hair color all over the carpet, the tile, the walls, everywhere. I start to ask what the hell they are doing and then Duckie walks in. I tell him about crazy guy, he says yeah, that was messed up and I did the right thing kicking him out. And then some of Duckie’s friends are there and apparently now Doug lives with me and has a waterbed. Anyway, he makes some joke that one of his friends takes offense to and they get into a verbal spat and the friends take off.
Then I’m in some big loft like room, which apparently is now my living room, and people are literally tearing my house apart. They’ve scribbled on the walls, the tv, the glass of all my frames, the furniture, everywhere with those big fat sharpies and one of them is urinating on my couch. I’m beyond livid and can’t make any words come out of my mouth. All I can hear is my own voice screaming at everyone inside of my head.
Then this gush of water comes tsunami-ing out of, what I presume was, Duckie’s room. Apparently his friends, in their drunken rage, decided to slash his waterbed before they took off. And suddenly everyone is laughing, loud, slow-motion cackling that I can see but not hear, and making more drinks like this is all perfectly ok. And it’s like I am not even there. So I leave my own house and go driving around for awhile.
I come back, all my friends have left, Duckie is sitting on a chair that has a leg broken off (yet isn’t tipping over) and the house literally looks like a tornado tore through the middle of it. Everything is ruined. And I find some strange woman going through my cds and dvds and taking quite a few, claiming they are hers.
Somehow now, my house is a weird version of the trailer I used to live in, only the floorplan is reversed and I have neighbors who are all standing outside, staring at me through the back wall of the trailer, which is completely ripped open. Then Red is there and hands me my camera. And my mom is telling me everything will be ok. That these things can all be replaced. And good riddance to people who would destroy me (my home?). That people shouldn’t pretend they know more than they really do. And that families are forever.
Weird, I tell you. I can’t get it out of my head.