One Kind of Dreamer

I’m a dreamer in my waking hours, and a vivid dreamer when I sleep.  I have a series of recurring nightmares, including dreams about forgetting my locker combination or missing the school bus.  My dreams are usually quite detailed, and when I recall them, I remember the thoughts going through my head within the dream.  Last night was one full of dreams, and the last one before I awoke still stands out in my memory, because I described it to my husband this morning.  If I don’t write them down or tell someone, they are forgotten by the end of the day.

Last Night

I was grocery shopping.  I was not in a very good mood, because I was not shopping for myself.   I was shopping for beer for my husband, because it was Superbowl Sunday, and we were out.  I arrived at one checkout line and hung around waiting for a clerk.  The store was practically empty, but there were some employees at the opposite end of the row of check stands.  I walked down there to check out instead.  When I got there, I discovered I had left my keys at the other station, so I walked back and picked them up and returned to the far checkout.  The clerk was running something through the register, but stopped to take care of me.

I had no basket and no merchandise.  She asked what I was purchasing, and I replied, “The beer.”  In my mind, I wondered what was wrong with her.  What else would I be purchasing?  Then I looked down and realized I didn’t have any beer.  I looked all around.  There was an empty Budweiser box on the floor, but I knew it had nothing to do with my predicament.  No one I know drinks that, and the box was empty.  It was simply a coincidence.  I told the clerk I would be right back.

I walked down the aisle searching for a premium brew.  At the end of the aisle, two women were setting up a display of chocolates.  I overheard one of them telling the other she didn’t know why they had made so much, since it was too expensive and no one would buy it.  I saw a sign reading, “Peppermint Bark,” but no price.  I asked, “Well how much is it?”  One of them informed me it was $9.99 a pound.  I told her she was right.  No one would buy it because it was cheaper to make at home.  She asked what I would be interested in buying.  I told her I really liked the chocolate covered chocolates my daughter had bought me a few weeks ago.  “Ah yes,” she said, “the box of eight.”  I wondered how she knew who my daughter was and what she had purchased.

I walked to the chocolate department to see what else they had.  The ladies were working in a Russel Stover shop within the store.  As I was looking through the chocolate, I noticed they were in competition for customers with the workers in the bakery.  The bakery shop workers were handing out samples.  I looked at the beautiful display of chocolate some more.  A customer came by and I was embarrassed.  I explained, “But they’re all so pretty!”  She said, “Yes, and that’s the kind of thing that keeps me in the garage.”  I thought it was a curious comment, so I considered what she meant.  I decided she must have a secret stash in the garage.

I left the chocolate aisle and got my beer and headed back to the check out, where they were still waiting to ring me up.  I noticed an envelope stuffed with paper on the other side of the check stand.  It had the words, “Jennifer M.” on the outside.  The clerk was obviously in the middle of a transaction, but she scanned my beer and printed a receipt, ready to send me on my way.  I explained that I had not paid.  A male store employee, with obvious mental disability, came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me.  I had a feeling he was supposed to be running the register, but something had distracted him.  I was trying to politely untangle myself, and the female clerk was telling him, “It’s time for love love,” or something similar.  I knew it was some kind of code for him to return to his work.

He did let go and I again explained I had not paid.  I wondered to myself if the employees were worried I would sue the store because of the groping incident.  I wondered what kind of person sues over things like that.  I felt bad for the groper.  The female clerk told me I didn’t owe anything, she actually owed me $14. I explained that maybe she had rung up my items in the middle of the other transaction and that explained the discrepancy.  She asked if my name was Jennifer, and I nodded.  She said it must be my transaction.  I held up the envelope and my card and explained that I am Jennifer D., and the envelope said Jennifer M..  She finally realized what I was trying to explain and she settled the transaction.

As I walked away from the register, I realized I had forgotten to purchase chips.  I saw them at the endcap just on the other side of the register.  I was angry.  I wondered if we really needed chips.  I didn’t want to go through all the hassle again.  I wondered why we put up with stupid traditions like chips and beer for the Superbowl.  I thought through all the food in my house, and wondered if I could get away with suggesting we start a new tradition.  I left with only the beer.