Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Lucid Dreaming and Cell phones.

It all started when my roommate decided he did not need to wake up in time to answer the door bell.

Waiting outside in the blustery, wet cold of the morning was a newly trained FEDEX delivery person.  She was ignoring the posted warning sign that read DAY TIME SLEEPER.

She rang the bell.  She then waited for a few seconds and knocked with a firm wrist on the door.  She stood with the impatient attitude of a women pressed for time.  The package in her arm felt light.  She thought about setting the package on the ground so she could get a better knock on the door.

"Use two hands."  She thought.

But then she thought better of it.  She remembered the video she was forced to watch in training class.  The video instructed her to never place her package on the ground if the package was smaller than a shoe box.

"It was unseemly."  Said the instructor.  "You are ENTRUSTED with the care of this package."  The instructor reminded her.

So the driver shoved the package near her armpit.  Her left bicep and rib cage met the box and held it firmly in place.

I was in bed asleep when I heard the rapping on the door.  I was caught in the treacherous borderline between wakefulness and the dreamworld.

I had no idea if the distant sound of tapping I heard was just a dream, or if someone was ACTUALLY knocking on the door.

"I might be Lucid Dreaming."  I thought.

I warned my roommate the fist time we moved in with each other that I was placing him in charge of answering the door in the early part of the morning.

"I suffer from Lucid Dreaming."  I told him.

"Like the Queensryche song?"  He asked trying to impress me with his knowledge of progressive metal bands.

"Exactly!"  I exclaimed.

"Only I was years ahead of those Tate and DeGarmo."   I told my roommate.

I have had an interest in the field of human psychology for as long as I can remember.  In the 8th grade I read B.F. Skinner in the original.  How many 8th graders read B.F. Skinner?  Not many.

But my interest in psychology was not the reason I was drawn to the psyche 101 class.  At the time I was dating a married woman  that I had met at work.  She wanted me to do something with my life and encouraged me to take classes at the local community college.

She always told me how "auditing co-op advertising had no future."

She was going through a divorce at the time, though her husband had convinced her to see a therapist.  The therapist told her to ask me "future" questions.

Where did I see myself in 10 years?  What were my goals in life?

At the time it seemed easy to answer her.

"I am going to be a neuro-psychologist."  I told her.

The day after she asked me her future question I enrolled in the psychology class.  I brought the enrollment papers to work with me the next day to prove to my girlfriend what a suitable boyfriend I was.

It wasn't enough for my girlfriend.  She broke up with me a few days later after I got fired for excessive tardiness.

I told my roommate about my  lucid dreaming as a child.

"I had no idea the concept was scientific or real until I saw a documentary on Public Broadcasting.  The show's content was confirmed by a lecture I attended at Mesa Community College."

"I had no idea that you were a lucid dreamer."  My roommate replied.  "I have the perfect gift for you for Christmas.  A pair of those ridiculous red goggles they make lucid dreamers wear at sleep labs."

He laughed at his own joke and the the mental image he had of me wearing L.E.D. goggles that blinked every time I experienced REM sleep.

"Fantastic."  I said pretending that I thought his joke was as funny as he thought it was.

"I am just telling you this because you need to know that when I am experiencing LUCID DREAMING  I am unable to distinguish whether I am awake or not.  I cannot control my lucid dreaming, so I won't budge if I hear the telephone ring, or a fire alarm going off."

"You'll need to keep an eye out for me."  I told my roommate.  "Watch out for smoke on the stove, or blinking answering machines."

At no time during our negotiations did my roommate suggest that he would not watch out for FEDEX deliveries.

I should have covered that with him.  I guess you could say that was my mistake.  Though personally I feel "answering doorbells"  pretty much covers looking out for package deliveries.

My roommate begged to differ.

"There is no way I am going to be listening for anymore door bells for you."  He told me one day.

"Why the hell not?"  I asked him angrily.  "Did you forget about my lucid dreaming?"

"I did not."

"But I am still not going to answer the door."  He said emphatically.

It seemed that my roommate had gotten himself into a little trouble with the police.  And they were sending over probation officers and bail-bondsmen to harass him.

"If I answer the door."  He told me  "I will have to explain all the beer cans that pile up in my room."  He said.

"You aren't allowed beer?"  I asked.

"Hell, no."  He said.  "If they catch me with beer I will go up the river.  They will lock the doors and throw away the key."

"Don't you know what they do to black men in the system in Arizona?"  He asked.

"Serve them green bologna," was the only reply I could come up with.

It was because of my concern over my roommate's situation with the court system that I let myself believe I was just lucid dreaming when I heard the knocking on the door.

After several sustained minutes of knocking I decided to wake up and get out of bed.  I looked over at the time clock.  It read 11:15 am.

I sauntered over to the peep hole without my glasses.  I peered out into the doorway entrance, squinting so I could see.

"Nothing there."  I muttered.  "I better check the sliding glass door though."   I said to myself.  "Just in case."

I had the vaguest recollection that I had ordered a replacement cell phone online last night.

"There is no way the phone could be here that quickly."

But a sudden rise in panic shook me.  I waved my hands blindly through the veneer blinds.  The slats jumbled together making a loud rattling sound that only added to my sense of panic.

"I don't see a van or anything."  I thought to myself.  But then again I could not really see anything.  I forgot my glasses.  I squinted again through the sliding glass patio door.  I thought about opening the door for a better look, but I was not wearing a t-shirt.  My hairy belly was jiggling in the cool morning sun.  I thought better of exposing my deeply entrenched belly button to the possible ridicule of FEDEX's driver.

Stay tuned for Part 2.  "I get stalked by the amazing hot blond girl who rides the bus with me."

4 comments:

thimscool said...

Mr. Sandman... send me a dream!
About Leslie, and make it obscene!
Bom bom bom bum.

extes

Romius T. said...

I cant promise a leslie strory but I can promise the story of the homeless girl I met at the bus stop who I just let move in with me.

raymi lauren said...

HIIIIIIIIIIII!

Romius T. said...

Hi Back Raymi!