I went in to work somewhat earlier than usual this morning, and the early alarm clock seems to have caught me in a dream that I now recall as follows:
I am walking down an urban street at night with what seems to be the United Nations of young hip people. (I'm not sure what I'm doing with them. The street is too close and shadowy to be one of Atlanta's; it seems European, though it could be New England.) I speak briefly with one not-so-hip fellow who I imagine to represent Russia. He appears in every way to be Jerzei Balowski (played by Alexei Sayle) from the Young Ones.
I end up speaking with a tall blond gentleman who is the center of the group (both socially and spatially), and I tell him that I think we're going to Russia's party, though I express that, having met Russia earlier, I am skeptical about the quality of this party. The gentleman stops and turns to face me and, with an aristocratic air that is both commanding and winningly inclusive, says “I am Russia, and my parties are legendary”.
It turns out the first guy was from some former-Soviet satellite state or something.
Anyway, the “legendary” part turns out to be true, as I find myself in a beat up car with three people who were friends during my college years (none of whom have recently commented on this site). They are desperate to get into Russia's party because they have heard that he is generous in handing out party drugs. They think that I can get them into the party because I was with the UN crowd earlier. I'm torn between wanting to do a good turn for my (fairly pathetic) former friends and a sense that their quest is a ridiculous, pointless waste of time. We drive through a crowded parking lot while I try to think of something else to do, and that's about when I wake up.
Weird, huh?
So to sum up: I committed a faux pas and then failed to take any action to separate myself from some stupid people's stupid agenda. In my dreams, I am Charlie Brown.
