Dream: Friends, Yes, the TV Show

INT. HOSPITAL WAITING ROOM
A brightly-lit large waiting room at a hospital.  ROSS enters, rushed and excited.  A DOCTOR is waiting for him.

ROSS

So doctor, you wouldn’t believe this, but I just met this guy, and he was like the biggest blowhard ever.  And he was eating breaded chicken feet, right there!  Who does that?  And he just kept going with his inane diatribe…

The DOCTOR listens patiently, but the audience can see he’s getting pissed.

ROSS

…and here’s the thing, his last name was the same as yours, Sauvage.  I mean what are the odds?

DOCTOR
(deadpan)

That’s because he’s my son.

STUDIO AUDIENCE LAUGHS.

INT. SOME PUBLIC SPACE IN NEW YORK CITY
A dimly-lit area.  People are walking about.

MONICA (V.O.)

I’m so glad Rachel is in New York City! I wonder what fun she’s having.

Rachel skulks about, not having fun.

END DREAM

So yes, I actually just had a dream that was an episode of Friends.  I was very sorry to wake up.  I got out of bed within a few minutes, but I should’ve arisen immediately, because it all faded away too quickly.  I believe Phoebe was there, too, but now I can’t remember what part she played in the story.  I know Chandler and Joey weren’t there, but Monica definitely had that voiceover.

Analysis

Last night we watched the first episode of The Undoing, which took place in New York City, and if you’ve seen this, too, you’ll recognize the same-name bit.  And earlier in the day, I remember seeing a photo of a woman wearing a F˖R˖I˖E˖N˖D˖S t-shirt.  But what about breaded chicken feet and Ross’s surgery?  I’m 99% certain Ross was there for some kind of surgery, though I no longer recall what for.  Wait, I did catch up on the latest episode of Warrior, and even though I may not have seen actual breaded chicken feet, there were a couple of scenes where people were eating, so who knows, maybe I did.  And oh, just for the record, it was early season Friends, all the cast members looking quite young.

Dream: A Drive, a Divide, a Dog

I’m in my car, driving on a narrow grassy plain, when another car approaches. There’s no way we can get by each other without crashing, so I turn the wheel and move off to the right as far as possible. But this leaves my car in an untenable position, to the right of a gulley, which I never saw before. The farther I drive, the closer I come to the edge; basically, my car is going to fall in if I keep going.

So I get out of the car. And there’s some kind of a wild animal who bites my finger, not enough to draw blood but enough to make an indentation into my skin. I hurl a piece of fruit, and the animal chases after it. But I know it’ll be back.

I must make it to the other side of the ditch. I have to climb (don’t ask — it’s a dream, after all). So I climb, on my hands and knees, and my fingers grab onto what feels like tight plastic grocery bags, stretched because inside contains coils upon coils of Christmas tree lights.

I cross over. And I look across the divide, and instead of my car, it’s Ginny, my German shepherd dog. She’s pacing back and forth, agitated that she’s over there and I’m over here. And before I can scream, “No, you’re too old!” Ginny leaps — and somehow she makes it. I catch her. I feel her weight as her body collides into mine, but then I don’t, as if I’ve absorbed her somehow.

And then I wake up.

Commentary: Yesterday my wife and I were driving on Lincoln Road, and a car was indeed coming down and there’s a part where it can be kind of tight. Later on, we saw a big dog sticking its head out of another car, enjoying the winter air. Last night we saw the Taylor Swift documentary on Netflix (highly recommended) and she’s got cats; the bite from the dream animal was very much a cat bite, playfully painful. It’s been a few weeks since I put them all away, but I do indeed store Christmas lights in plastic grocery bags. And it’s been almost a month since our dog of almost fifteen years died.

The last part of the dream is a bit on the nose, isn’t it? What I find most fascinating about Ginny’s leap is that I had no clue she was going to do that. Even though it’s my dream and I thought it up, it was a complete surprise. What a gift. Thank you, dream.

Dream: House-Train

My wife and I are house shopping, and we are walking down a woody path to the For Sale sign. Along the way, we see squirrels — lots of them. And one in particular is enormous, as big as a child.

“Do squirrels get that big?” I ask my wife.

She shrugs and we move on.

We arrive at a house that is actually a train, as in a locomotive. Old-timey, all black and with a steam chimney. The owner, a woman, greets us. Inside, the train is well furnished. It’s long, but it’s a house with all things you’d expect in a house. She meets us at the kitchen.

“I need to be able to drive this thing,” I tell her.

“You can’t. It’s a house. Besides, you need a license if you wanted to drive it.”

“What about the electricity, water?” I ask, thinking you couldn’t move a house-train so easily.

“There’s another train house down a bit,” she says. I think she’s trying to get rid of me.

And then I wake up.

Commentary: On a recent run, I ran past a trailer park. Trailers sort of look like railway cars, don’t they?

Dream: High School Baseball

I’m walking with three guys from high school I haven’t thought of in…at least a decade. But of course, in the dream no time has passed. Donnie tells me about the varsity baseball team. I ask him who’s the power hitter on the team and he proudly announces that it’s him. He’s batting cleanup, fourth in the order. Chris, tall and lanky, says he’s batting third, which means he’s the best hitter on the club (at least this used to be true in baseball — not sure if it applies anymore in the world of Moneyball/stats-everything nowadays). Before Justin has a chance to speak, we’re at the ball field so my fellow classmates take the field.

I sit on the bleachers to watch, and lo and behold, half the team are girls at our school. And while the guys are wearing random sweatpants and t-shirts, the girls are all in different sundresses. Big Red (my high school team name) is on the field and I know most of the girls on the field. Jenna is the pitcher, while the bases are covered by Tracy, Stacy, and Helene.

Jenna throws the first pitch, and it’s not over-the-shoulder like regular baseball; she throws it underhand, more like fast-pitch softball, except this has a bit more of an arc. She’s got a devastating off-speed pitch that has some serious bite, fooling every batter to swing and miss.

My college friend Mark walks in, and he looks absolutely exhausted. He’s been on a very long trip and he tells me all he wants to do is sleep. I tell him he should just get on the couch and close his eyes. Lucky for him, there is indeed a couch, right there, and he falls into it and does just that. Within a few seconds he’s snoring away.

And then I wake up.

Commentary: My wife and I are currently on a trip to Orlando, FL, and yesterday, after visiting a friend, we stopped by First Data Stadium, where the St. Lucie Mets play, the affiliated minor league team. And a few days ago on the flight over, I wasted an hour or so playing Amiga games on my laptop via emulation, and Hardball! was one of the games I played (pic above). So baseball has been on my mind, plus playing that old-school video game must’ve activated some very old bits in my brain.

The reason why girls might be on the team is because before going to sleep, we watched two episodes of Russian Doll, which I can see easily burrowing its way into the dreams of many of its viewers.