Last night I yelled at people in my dreams for breaking one of my gloriously huge wine glasses, and for eating my crackers without permission. Normally I just sit and meekly worry my way through dreams, wracked by anxiety and fear, but last night I unleashed some anger. It was actually pretty fun. But it sucked because I totally thought one of my glasses was broken.
Here's what happened: I am lugging groceries around with me, when I meet an older black man who wants me to have a drink with him. In his hotel room. I am reticent to do so — since when do I have drinks with strange old men in hotel rooms? — but this man seems nice enough and the hotel is busy enough that I assume if anything went awry, people would be around to help me (there's the fear: always assuming someone's going to hurt me). I reluctantly follow the old man around the hotel clerk's desk and into his room. I notice immediately that the sound of the air conditioner is so loud that it would cover up my screams. I think about telling the clerk to come check on me if I'm not out in 15 minutes, but I keep my mouth shut and begin unloading some of my groceries — including cheese and crackers and my aforementioned big wine glasses — onto the coffee table. I pour a glass of red for myself and the old man, and suddenly some short, younger, white dude comes into the room (it's clear that he works at the hotel) and begins chowing down on the crackers I left in the box.
This irks me. "Dude, who said you could have those crackers?" I ask him pointedly. His mouth is full and he looks like a punk ass ICP fan or some shit. "You don't just go around eating crackers when people have left them in the box! That means they're not for you!" I sigh heavily and look up to see more people coming into the room.
One guy who looks like Mike Barbieri from MTSU strolls over to me, wearing sunglasses and, I think, a red bandana on his head, leans down and whispers a song lyric in my ear. (And I can't remember what it is!!!) It was something completely generic and old and busted, I think. Like something that was popular five years ago but sounds like a joke now. Damn, what did he say?
So all these people start filling up the remaining wine glasses (including the Queen's Goblet) and eating my food. I have no idea who these rude guests are. Nor do I know in whose temporary home I am a guest. All I know is I'm annoyed and I want to leave. So I start to gather up my things and I look down and on the floor is one of my big red wine glasses, its stem snapped in half. I scream, "OH MY GOD! Who broke this?!?!?" and no one decides to come forward. In fact, everyone seems to regard my heartache about this glass with suppressed amusement. I continue berating these strangers for ruining my glass, and I do all sorts of fun mental aerobics wondering about where I can go to replace the glass.
Because it drives me nuts to have three of anything, apparently.