Dreams that make you go, “NOT!”

I have a son.  

He’s a professor.

From: IQ.intel.com

Professors are very good at knowing what to do in conventions.

But not in dreamworld.

This particular foray into !!!NOT!!!! begins in a hotel room with my son and a few of his colleagues.  

Now…I wouldn’t know if they were really his colleagues or not, but they did look quite professorish…

…for 15.  

I didn’t mention they were all 15 years old?  Or there was booze?  My apologies for the oversight.   In the real world he has a daughter who is almost 9.

He hands me a set of car keys using the same tone he’d use if he were dispensing homework.  “Go to the next town and rent a hotel room for me.”

Easy enough, right?  But he’s 15.  Why does he have car keys and how am I going to get there If I can’t find his car?

Aha!  There’s a bus!  I appeared next to it or it appeared next to me.   The only element missing was Buckaroo Bonzai’s sage words, “No matter where you go, there you are.”

If you’re new to my expeditions into dream world, you wouldn’t know this piece of trivia:

For the past several months my dreams have been about getting to the train station, airport, or bus station and missing my transportation by minutes.  

This time, I made it!  I was on the bus!

How I wish that bus trips were as boring in dreamworld as they are in life.  

Some kid kept bouncing around the bus like a rubber bullet in a metal room.  More disturbing that than, he had my husband’s face. But the kid couldn’t be over 3.  He passed the time slinging dirt everywhere with an urchin’s smile.  

From: screenjunkies.com

As the unpleasantries escalated, the thought hit me like a well-slung dirtball:

I have my son’s car keys.  

How is he going to drive his car to the next hotel?

Yes, I get to the next town.

No, I don’t have money for the room, my son doesn’t have his keys, and I don’t know his phone number.

But I do meet a few of his colleagues and I ask them to contact him.  

They’re too busy partying with the kid from the bus who is happily slinging dirt all over their room.

I have to call my son…but how?  Telepathy?

Where is my daughter, the cell phone expert, when I need her?

Vacationing in Oklahoma City would be better than this. I’ll have to ask if my daughter if she has a spare room (preferably lined with rubber). 

If I’m lucky, the next time I have a dream about missing the bus/plane/train, I’ll be thankful I didn’t get on the #&@^!# thing.