That La Kid

wishin' an' hopin'!

escape!

on May 19, 2012

Haley has said that she’d like to be a fly on the wall inside my head at night while I’m dreaming.  I wouldn’t recommend this, as it tends to be a scary, scary place in there.  Last night…

It started off innocently enough.  The first thing that I remember is watching a marching band practice.  They were a small band, but they were really good.  I went to find people, like maybe my Dad, and bring ’em back to see this awesome band.

The next thing I remember, we were in a huge stadium watching a football game.  I couldn’t tell you if it was high school or college, but the facility was enormous.  I was being chased, or trying to escape.  There were some terrorists running around that were trying to gather up people and kill them, and apparently I was on their list.  I slid down the banister and ended up right beside Leslie Jones (who is now Leslie Guettler).  I said hi, I think, and kept on running.

I ended up escaping the stadium and running down a long sandy, dirt road.  I followed a few people out, but somehow ended up on the wrong road.  They were uphill from me, all together.  I was down on a lower road alone with (I want to say) Matt Baysinger and the terrorists.  They were coming up on us fast, so we fought.  I don’t remember Matt doing much.  I feel like he ran.  I tried to run, and when I got stopped I clawed my way out.  I was hitting the terrorist with my book bag, and at one point I jammed my finger deep into an eye socket.

Back at the stadium, trying to get to that upper road, I ran into Leslie again.  (I am always sliding down hand railings in this dream – trying to get UP… you’d think I’d walk UP the stairs.)  I told her she had to help us escape.  She’s got to get us out of here.

You’d think she’d help us escape by car – and maybe that’s how it started.  All I remember was getting off of a bus at The Disney Store. It looks a lot like an updated Barracks Rd.  Matt, Dad, and I got off the bus.  Leslie seemed unsure about whether to get off the bus or go back to the stadium.  I grabbed her bag and said, “just come with us.”

Finding the entrance to the store was tough.  We had to enter through the chapel, because there was a lot of construction.  The Disney Chapel was interesting to say the least.  I meandered around there while I waited for Leslie to come in.  The walls were blue, there were characters everywhere, and the pews were bright pink.  There was a really high tech clock that hung from the center of the room like a chandelier.  It was digital, and told the day of the week as well as the time.  It had the Little Mermaid on it.

Leslie is slow getting into building, but when she realizes a complete stranger (my dad) walked off with her kid, she moves through the room quickly.  She wasn’t really upset, she just doesn’t know my Dad and wanted to make sure Gabrielle is alright.  I followed her out of the chapel and into the store.

We find Dad talking to Gabrielle, who is running in and out of playhouses.  Dad says, “Get him! Get him!”  My cousin Adam is inside a  playhouse full of balls and Gabrielle is tickling him, so we all tickle him.

What are the odds of running into him here.  “What are you doing here?” He said Ashley sent him to buy this Jeopardy toy that you can’t get online anymore.  It’s sold out, rare, limited edition… really fancy… you get the drift.

I introduce Adam to Matt and Leslie.  I tell him Leslie sat beside me at my high school graduation.  Matt immediately begins hitting on Leslie.  “So, uh, when did you graduate?” he asks her.

First of all, Matt, she’s married.  Secondly, she graduated with me – and I graduated with you.  That’s the cool thing about our friendship – I thought you knew that.  Reggie graduated (I want to say) in 1989, Tom ’99, but you and me, we graduated together in ’01.  I was irritated that he forgot about that.

Trying to do the math woke me up.

So, see.  Some crazy schtuff goes on inside my head in the middle of the night.  I guess it’s entertaining, but if you’re in there as a fly on the wall just watching instead of helping me fight terrorists, we’re going to have words come morning.  I’d love to know why my brain picks who it picks to hang out with at night.  Very interesting.

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