Weird dream

Last night I had a dream.

In the dream, I was not myself. I am not sure who I was, if I was anybody. But I know I was much younger and I was very brave compared to the REAL me.


I somehow met a guy and in one day we had decided to get married. We lived in a POS little RENTED trailer on a busy street which was known for its run-down strip clubs, used car lots and hookers. Across the street was a used car lot, run by a guy who had no idea what his cars were worth. He would ask too much for crappy cars (American made and old), and not enough for Japanese cars with reasonably low mileage.

I worked as a waitress at Waffle House. I would like to believe that I had all of my teeth, but with the job at Waffle House, that makes this assumption dangerous. Anyway, hubby worked for a short time at an Einstein Bagel a few blocks away. It was where we met. Then one day, he got the car lot owner to sell the whole lot to us. We also bought our trailer and moved it across the street to our new car lot. We sold off all the cars, increasing our space and our bank account.

I had a baby and we were happy. Then the husband started doing weird things like smoking crack and disappearing for days at a time. Money was scarce. I had the trailer moved back across the street, donated all of the husband's clothes and for awhile, kept my eye on the abandoned car lot. He came and went, seemingly unaware that he had destroyed our family.

One day I happened past Einstein bagel, which had changed owners and was now a brandless coffee shop - slash - "antique" (thrift) shop. I found a flat of old purses. I asked the guy at the counter how much they wanted. Five bucks! Yes! I loved old purses. I bought them, and sat down with my no-name-brand coffee to inspect this treasure.

I have heard that we only dream in black and white. It is just not true, because I KNOW that I had the most fabulous uniquely shaped purple purse. The purses all contained lots of neat things. Only a woman would understand what happens to a favorite purse when it is exchanged for a newer purse but not gotten rid of: It's like an abandoned nest. Perfectly usable, and containing the remnants of its former occupant. In the purses, I found old lipsticks, matchbooks, jewelry, glasses, and notes to self. Neat.

I asked the guy at the counter for a bag. I noted that he was cute, and maybe I'd come back tomorrow.