Skip to main content

Pick Up the Phone

I had a dream the other night, where Lauren told me very emphatically that it was crucial that a take this phone call. She kept saying that I needed to take the call because it was very important, without telling me why it was so important. So I woke up to my phone ringing convinced that I have to answer it, not knowing really what's going on, but sure that I have to answer it because it's really important.

Comments

BiCoastal Bias said…
Who was on the phone???!!!!
Anonymous Coward said…
irrelevant.

next question!

Popular posts from this blog

Level 3 Vet Boss

My friend got to the end of level three but didn't want to face the boss. So I step into the room grab my sword, and get ready to work my way past him. The boss looks at me, sort of sighs, and gets ready to do his routine. He doesn't seem to have anything against me. He just seems to know what this is about, what he has to do, and wants to just get to it. I dodge in, take a swipe, dodge out, and repeat this pattern, knowing it'll eventually get me past him. But I get bored with the battle and walk out of the room outside. I see my cat sitting outside the gate, right where he's not supposed to be. This always happens; let the cat out onto the deck, and he squeezes out the gate. So I yell at him to get his ass back on the deck, but he just sits there relaxing in the sun. Before I can go out and pick him up, a huge cougar wanders up. I start to worry, but my cat just lays there, relaxed, not worried about the big cat that could tear him to pieces without breaking a sw...

Be Selective About Finishing What You Start

 Did you ever wake from a dream and think "aww, we were having a good conversation?" I'm chatting with a stranger in his own house. I'm there to visit a housemate who I haven't yet seen, apparently one of a dozen. This stranger has asked me "'Something Something' or 'The Prodigy of blah blah', which would you read?" "I've never heard of either, so I'd just be choosing based on the title". "Ok." "'The Prodigy of blah blah' then." "No, it's not 'The Prodigy of blah blah', it's 'The Pehidety of blah blah'." I have no idea what he's saying. "Could you write them both down? That'd make this easier." He picks up a Britta pitcher and a Sharpie and begins writing. There's already marker smeared across the sides. He stops, looks at what he's written a moment, then rubs it with the side of his hand, smearing whatever he'd written to illegi...

The Ficticious Disease of Inconsistency

I walk into a carpeted, nicely furnish, well lit basement, where some people are playing a game. Among them are my ex-girlfriend Aurora, and two people who I retrospectively recognize, my youngest brother and a guy I met this thanksgiving. It's a roleplaying/storytelling game. They give me an existing character and I join in. Only events unfold too fast for me to keep up, having joined in medias res , so I mostly end up observing things unfold. As we wrap up and head up the stairs, I'm told that my character contracted Ford's disease, which famously struck Henry Ford, but just as famously only affects Latinos.