The Experience Part I
The music on the machine kept playing and playing becoming more irritating by the minute, and while I didn't recognize the tune, except for hearing little bits and pieces every time I walked through a casino, it somehow reminded me of Camp town races. I pushed the buttons whether they were lit up or not in hopes of making the infernal noise stop, but it wouldn't. I looked more intently at the video screen before me, looking for some instructional label that would aid me in my quest. Then I realized...eight out of eight. I won. Oh my god, I'd won! Mom! Mom! I won!! I look around the casino and see a few faces meekly smile my way. Others have their heads fixated in one position with the glare of their own video escape completing the soul sucking unreality. In the far distance I see a casino employee who may be headed my way. My eyes travel upwards to the flashing light on the top of the machine I was playing and back to the incredulous sight on the screen itself.
Eight out of eight. I couldn't believe it. I had just changed numbers too, about three hands back. Seemingly when playing video keno the game likes to mock your changes by making every number you had been playing light up gleefully as you gnash your teeth...but not this time. No...I had outmaneuvered the little video gremlins and foresaw the changes they were going to make. I caught them unawares, with their pants down. But then, you sit... you sit and look expectantly at anybody that's wearing some sort of neutral colored polo with a ring of keys hanging from a chain connected to their belt. During the scourging you are waiting, before you get to the payout, the jackpot, the kisses that put you in close to the handsome man or woman you never thought you would be able to kiss... ever... in your life. And now, here you are, on the precipice of just a jackpot, of just that one chance in a lifetime.
My mom had finally pulled herself away from her own delusional fantasy and came over to where I had been playing. She smiled broadly after asking me what I had done. Why does it always take a moment before you realize that you have won. It only takes seconds to realize you've just spent the last buck twenty-five of your paycheck into the devouring beast but it always takes a second look for it to register that you have over ...holy crap... $52,456.12... what??? I look up at the payout board above the machine and realize I had been playing a progressive keno game and I had just won over fifty-two thousand dollars. I whisper the amount to my mom, as if the loud music, flashing lights and blinking signboard won't alert this to anyone.
I get a feeling in my chest/gut area that I associate more with expectant love. That internal empty ache as if I'd been away from someone I want to love too long. The sensation of heartache just slightly south of the heart area. Images flash through my mind of material things; boats, motorcycles, clothes, boots, outdoor furniture, golden retrievers, jewelry, Disneyland towers, swaying palm trees and deep blue surf...all a quick blur and then I shake my head and start being more practical. I should pay off my bills, help out a few friends, buy stuff for my mom.... the clothes, boots and jewelry creep back in and I let it stay, but in the background. I give my mom some more money and she heads off to another machine. She's been through this dance before, too.
The attendant finally arrives and unlocks the machine. She is a portly woman and pretty. Her make-up is near flawless except for the lip liner being too dark for the lip color and her reddish brown hair is pulled back in a severe ponytail making her eyes more slanted than usual. She's oriental, of that I'm sure, just not which one. I look around for my mom, she'd be able to tell. She looks my way finally and smiles, then locks the machine again and says she'll be right back.
I sit back down in the burgundy swivel chair and spin a mere thirty degrees back and forth as I wait. A few patrons are coming right for me so I protectively lay my hand nonchalantly on the machine I was playing. They ask me if I won. I smile and nod, not wanting to get into any deep conversations. They point and gawk for a minute. I smile and nod. Thank you, I say, as if I really had anything at all to do with it. I realize where my hand is and pull it back. I feel like an animal protecting its kill. What the hell is wrong with me?
My mother meanders over again, craning her neck to look at the screen. She asks me why they haven't come back yet and I slightly snap that I don't know, I have no control over the employees here. I feel remorse immediately and try to apologize but she just smiles and sits down next to me to wait with. She starts to speak about what I should do with the money and I ask her very gently if we can talk about it after we leave. We'll go have lunch and discuss it then, away from here, away from everyone who knows. She nods knowingly after glancing around and sits quietly. I ask her if she wants to play and she says no. So we sit.
The oriental lady returns with two men in tow. One unlocks the machine again as she approaches and her partner hands me a clipboard with tax forms to sign. They ask if they can take my photo for their wall of winners and I decline, as politely as possible and then they proceed to the payment portion. I have to remind myself to breathe as they count out the money. I keep looking around, checking for stalkers and the like. My paranoid radar is up on its highest setting now and that pleasant ache has turned into a deep knot of fear. I get a flash of Delia's smile and push it away.
The wad of cash is enormous and I ask if I can get a check instead. They say I'll have to wait to spend any of the money if I want a check and that if I wanted a check, I should have requested one before they went to get the cash. What?? My anger starts to bubble but I consciously make it subside. Damn woman didn't say two words to me and expects me to request a check. What? Do they think this happens to me all the time? Like I know the procedure? I smile and nod. Forever smiling and nodding, it seems.
They do offer to have security walk me out to my car, which I gratefully accept. I guess they automatically assume that a big winner will leave once they have their winnings. Whatever happened to the offerings of free rooms and meals to keep you there in hopes you would give some back? We actually were going to lunch there but I indicate to my mom that I think we should go and she heartily agrees. In the cab of the truck with the windows rolled up tight and doors firmly locked all reserve is released. We gobble like turkeys on Thanksgiving eve.
The Experience Part II
After about a month, I'd barely made a dent in my winnings. I've told no one… well, let me clarify that. I'm horrible with secrets so I told no one exactly what I did, although I do mention to some that I won a pretty goodly amount. The practical side of me pulled my credit reports and I paid off every bill I owed. I bought the boots I wanted and some pretty, frilly blouses and skirts (to wear with the my new, cool, stomping boots, of course). I also bought the motorcycle I've wanted forever and had a search out for a Volkswagen Thing. I gave my mom and sister a bit to spend where they wanted and even some to my nieces and nephew. I gave some to some friends I knew needed it, yet still, I'd barely touched it. I kept going to work, like normal… well, maybe a little later than normal, but I'm the boss, so who's to notice?
I decided, in a state of 'O My God! I've got to do something with this money burning my ass!' that I'm going to buy some property. It's always been my dream to own a piece of land where I can build my off-the-grid compound with its underground shelter and storage area and where I'd eventually install walls topped with razor wire and turrets mounted with 50cals at each compass point. Hell, I may even go as far as digging out a moat. The house, of course, would be Spanish-Mediterranean one and a half-story style with mosaics, frescoes, an open courtyard filled with climbing vines, water loving plants, little lovers nooks, and a central round seating area complete with fire-pit for people to gather and discuss such high minded subjects as the esoteric meanings of numbers and political philosophies, as well as deviant conversations such as the true origin of civilization being brought about by the fermentation of grain and beer being the true god of civilized mankind. Well… that and the top three things that turn you on, of course.
There was a small real estate office in the little strip mall right around the corner from my mom's house that specialized in mobile home sales and property. When I entered the bells wrapped around the door handle tinkled and the fluorescent lights seemed to jump. The vertical blinds were stained with age although the business was actually quite new to this mall and the light filtered in leaving streaks of sunlight along the left wall. There were some old worn metal chairs bordering a country style coffee table next to the window and two lonely desks sitting side by side near the back. They looked like military surplus metal desks I had seen growing up my entire life except for the absence of piled papers and folders. These were almost Spartan in comparison. A bookcase stood directly behind each desk with matching four drawer file cabinets at the outer flanks and the matching wire wastebaskets hugged the outer sides of both. No one was in sight.
An older man came out of a central doorway in the back and we exchanged pleasantries. I informed him of why I was there and he suggested a few places. As his back was turned I noticed the Rolodex on his desk. It was unusually large and on closer inspection I realized it wasn't a Rolodex at all… well, not for the norm anyway. It was filled with pictures of properties and a short description underneath along with a type of reference number. How cool is that? I asked, he explained and then he let me be to peruse the rolling, fast cash, real estate carousel. By the time he had returned I had three cards lying on the desk. He talked me out of two leaving me with a 25-acre piece of lake front property in New Mexico with a small single wide trailer already on it. It was technically already off the grid as there were no phone, gas, or power lines to it; the whole shebang ran off propane. It was just a mere forty thousand dollars and if I offered cash he could probably get it for me for thirty. Whoop, whoop!!
Me and my mom, along with my soon to be Jewish friend and a few girls from church (Audra, Sherri, and Emily) piled into the rented SUV and headed for New Mexico. I don't remember a lot of the trip but I do remember seeing a golden, long-haired, German shepherd along the journey, just standing by the side of the road licking the newly fallen snow. It was late autumn. We settled into a beautiful four story Best Western or sum-such and slept most of the first day there. The owner and I had conversed over the phone and Internet frequently so he was expecting me. He did mention that he'd be having a party and asked if that would be a problem. Without hesitation I said no, it might be nice to attend a party.
The Experience Part III
Upon arrival the front door was wide open and the place throbbed with the deep bass of dance music. The smell of hard alcohol, pot, and coconut tanning oil instantly hit our nostrils and invited us in. Directly across from the door was a bar complete with bartender. A black piece of textured plastic separating the bar from the dining table extended out a bit too far so the bar only accommodated two as opposed to the four or five it apparently was able to. A few people sat at the heavy, wooden dining table...dining - and a smaller table in the center had a couple of men playing some game similar to backgammon on it. To the left the room was dark except for the occasional flash of the disco lights and the glow of bracelets and necklaces on the dancers. A dimly lit hallway beyond that showed three closed doors; one on either side and one in the center. To the right was a shallow kitchen with bay windows and views of the lake. It was also in a shambles.
The church girls and soon-to-be Jew headed straight for the bar, my mom into the kitchen and I just stood there in the doorway allowing my eyes to adjust trying to discern the owner out of the crowd. I was approached by a tall, beautiful, blonde man dressed quite preppy who introduced himself as the owner's room mate. It seems 'Mark,' the owner, had to step out momentarily, but would be back later. He gave me a pointing tour of the place and apologized for the kitchen where we saw my mom cleaning. I asked if that was okay and he nodded instead of yelling over the music. He was leaning in close and I could smell coconut oil and Old Spice. Mmmmm...nice. The anal Virgo in me steered me into the kitchen to help my mom.
We had left Vegas in such a hurry that all that needed to be done hadn't so I found myself counting the days receipts for our store in the center of this strange place, in the middle of a throbbing party with my gung-ho cleaning mom guarding my back. As soon as I was done bricking up the money the new Jew said she would take care of it and left. My mom wanted to grab some dinner so she left, too.
I worked on the kitchen some more and when I looked up, there, standing next to me was a strikingly handsome man in a kilt no less, replete with knee sock/boots and a wide open shirt...the better to see the muscles of his chest with. It was if he was ready for a Ren-fest with his ruggedly, beautiful good-looks. He smiled broadly and had near perfect white teeth and I smiled back. His dark hair hung down below his eyes in perfectly spaced strings and when he moved his head the whole of his hair moved with him. I guess he heard his name called because his gaze snapped back into the party and he left with another parting smile. I went back to cleaning. I couldn't seem to get a handle on things so waved over the girls and they helped out a lot.
The party started to wind down and I know each of the girls had found some partner of sorts. Emily and Sherri was no where to be seen and Audra was sitting at the bar with her own gorgeous man deep in some philosophical conversation. She had to be enjoying herself because her usual conservative nature was motioning rampantly all over the place. It must have been near morning . My mom returned, looking very refreshed and cheery. I wanted to give her the receipts I had counted but couldn't remember where I had put it. I was sure I had put it in a secure area and my heart started to thump with the thought that it might have been absconded with. Then my mom remembered that new Jew had taken it so she would go back to the hotel to check. She asked that when she returned we would go for breakfast and I agreed heartily.
Then kilt-man returned; him and his wickedly bright smile. This time I said hello when I smiled back and he just smiled, again. I asked if there was anything I could do to help him and he asked why? "This is twice you've been in my kitchen flashing that pretty of yours yet naught's been said," I replied, still with the shit-eating grin on my face. "I thought you might be married," he said in some accent I couldn't place. I gave him one of my very palpable 'What in the hell were you thinking' looks that he would never have recognized since he didn't know me but everyone else seems to know so very well when another kilt bearing man entered the kitchen and wrapped his arm around my man. He mumbled something about it was time to move and my man just smiled (at me) again and allowed himself to be led off. I stood there in disbelief.
For the first time of the night I moved out of the kitchen area, after watching dozens and dozens of prettily clad men and women come in and out of the open door, always with a smile on their faces. The party had been a great success, with the crowd being overly receptive to everyone who entered the door. Even with the dwindling numbers everyone who entered the door brought a cheer from the remaining party-goers. Sitting at the game table was the room-mate with his beautiful, sun-lit (with no sun) perfectly feathered, blonde hair. I lean down to his ear and ask as quietly as possible over the still reverberating music if he has heard from his room mate? He pats the bench next to him and I sit.
We made a bit of small talk and he explained the mishap with the bar plastic divider thing and then he asked me why this was the first he's been able to get close to me all night. I didn't know he was even interested I relayed and then he kissed me. It was a long, deep, wet, lingering kiss that grabbed the very root of my loins. After the kiss I realized it was actually him who had grabbed the root of my loins and it was enough to want to send me under the table. We kissed again and the fire in me swelled hot with lust but this time when we pulled away from one another I struggled with my sense of duty as I remembered I had made other plans. I knew it would be better to stop now than to get too deep in the throes of passion, where there is no turning back, so I pull away and in the throatiest of whispers, I say no.
In the perfect timely fashion that all mothers have, she returned and I bolted up from the bench hurriedly adjusting my skirt and re-buttoning my blouse. I went to introduce her to– I leaned down again to ask his name and before I even finished the question he said that his name was Tom– Tom but she would have no part. It seems our soon to be Jewish business partner had never returned to the hotel room and neither were the days receipts there. I told her it wasn't right to assume something so quickly and she said she was going to look for her. I was to finish up with what I had to do here and join her as soon as possible.
'Tom' seemed a bit upset and left. The girls had returned from their nights adventures and we discussed leaving when a trio of very young boys appeared in the doorway. They asked if I was the lady who had bought the place from Mark and I confirmed. They informed me the real owner was coming so I'd better watch out and as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone. I stepped out onto the porch and saw a lurch of a man coming up the walk followed by a trinity of large black women in short, crayon-bright skirts and a tall, statuesque, older white woman in a pale blue evening gown with a fur wrap bringing up the rear.
When I stepped back into the trailer the lights were on, most of the people were gone except my girls and another four or five others and the place had been set aright, as if no party had ever occurred. The older lady swept in and commented on the cleanliness of the kitchen and moved into the dance floor area, which had been the living room, apparently. It was decorated in a country style powder blue with matching curtains and she gushed at how Mark had kept it so neat and clean. Everything seemed perfect in her world and I asked… I stepped forward and asked who the heck she was.
She was the owner, just returned from a three month vacation and happy to be home. I informed her of my purchase and from behind the lurch and three black girls came a small black woman who informed me that I was not the owner. How did she figure, I asked and she started to explain but I didn't hear a word she said because out of no where music began to play and the three black women started to perform as if they were the Marvelettes or something. The owner frittered about adjusting this and that with a knowing smile playing on her lips and in my state I interpreted it as a smirk and so again I stepped forward... yelling above the cacophony of shooby-doobies to ask the question again of how the hell did she figure. The music stopped, the girls swirled back into place behind lurch, and the small, petite, Dionne Warwick-like lawyer explained that Mark, the woman's son, was only a partial owner and did not have the authority to sell the property. I would need to take up any problems I had with my realtor.
The Experience Part IV
I was fuming and stormed out. Slamming the car door, I roared off into the snowy, dawning day. In my head I replayed the days events. The one person we should have been able to trust just may have robbed us blind; I may not be the owner of the perfect piece of real estate on a lake; I may have just lost thirty thousand freakin' dollars; I lost out on a phenomenal looking man in a kilt, I allowed myself to be molested by a man I didn't even know damn near in front of my mom, and I cleaned a goddamn kitchen I didn't need to freakin' clean. Holy freakin' crap! What the hell was wrong with me?
I was approaching a tunnel and saw the disappearing partygoers asleep in a pile at it's mouth. A small piece of road still existed to the left of them so I decided to drive by, albeit slowly. I passed naked elbows and knees and legs and arms that protruded from the pile with clothing hanging precariously on half naked limbs. The snoring was loud so I wasn't concerned for their well-being. At the end of this mass of human flesh was a pile of golden fur and in the midst of the fleece lay blonde 'Tom.' There was still a path beside the blanket of hair, but suddenly, appearing before me as I looked up to check the path, was the golden, long haired shepherd, licking the snow off the side of the road. He was too close to the sea of similar colored fur to give me enough time to weave around so I stopped -but with my driver's side tire in snow, the golden car I was driving skidded sideways and finally stopped, barely missing the heap of folks and the throw of pelts.
When I exited the car, the golden shepherd was waiting for me and pushed his head under my hand. The sea of fur, I realized, were several golden shepherds all sleeping soundly and I waded into the troupe. I found a spot between three of them and laid down. The other shepherd came with me and settled in, laying right next to me. Tom was two dogs away, facing me and he smiled from under his living fur blanket. I smiled, too, tired, and resigned to give in. Things would look better after some sleep. Snuggled up to the puppies, I allowed my fingers to run through their soft, silky fur and was comforted by it. They too, seemed to enjoy the petting. I curled up my legs the best I could and closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift. I opened my eyes and looked over at Tom and thought about getting up and inviting him over to the hotel.
I opened my eyes again and the hum of the computer completely freaked me out as did the creak of the chair I had fallen asleep in. I had fallen asleep and all that...all that vivid, real, colorful, loud, smell-o-vision experience had been nothing but a long, bad, incredible dream. It only took a mere hour and fifteen freaking minutes.
I fell asleep in the chair again, but only for a couple of minutes. Just long enough to be back in the hotel room, packing bags with Sherri and Emily in the bedroom talking about how uncomfortable the bed looked and for Tom to throw the freakin' covers off his naked body and tell them how comfortable it actually was.
Holy freakin' crap!
This is one of the first very vivid dreams I've had in a few months. I love these dreams, no matter if they're "bad" dreams or not, just because the experience is so very, very real. This one actually has a lot to do with what is going on with my life. Some of you know a little; some know a little more, others know nothing at all… I'm usually not one to share.
But in the essence of education, if you are interested at all in dreams and their interpretation, send me a wire and I'll update you of what's happening with me personally and you can see for yourself just how closely this dream echoes the reality I know.
If you don't want to pry or just don't care I'll give you the lessons I got from it all.
1 Never buy real estate from a rolodex in a strip mall.
2 Never trust anyone with your brick of money.
3 Never clean a kitchen that's not yours unless you've used it first.
4 Know the name of any man who is feeling you up.
5 Never trust a man named Mark. (Subject to discretion)
6 Beware of entourages with lurches and Marvelettes.
7 Dogs will always be a great comfort.
8 Mothers will always be there for you no matter how stupid you become.
9 Don't ever let a kilt wearing man get away.
10 Oh and the biggest lesson of all - If I'm gonna write like this more I need to get an editor so i don't have so many gosh darn run on long sentences of the likes that plague this story.
originally posted October 7, 2007
The music on the machine kept playing and playing becoming more irritating by the minute, and while I didn't recognize the tune, except for hearing little bits and pieces every time I walked through a casino, it somehow reminded me of Camp town races. I pushed the buttons whether they were lit up or not in hopes of making the infernal noise stop, but it wouldn't. I looked more intently at the video screen before me, looking for some instructional label that would aid me in my quest. Then I realized...eight out of eight. I won. Oh my god, I'd won! Mom! Mom! I won!! I look around the casino and see a few faces meekly smile my way. Others have their heads fixated in one position with the glare of their own video escape completing the soul sucking unreality. In the far distance I see a casino employee who may be headed my way. My eyes travel upwards to the flashing light on the top of the machine I was playing and back to the incredulous sight on the screen itself.
Eight out of eight. I couldn't believe it. I had just changed numbers too, about three hands back. Seemingly when playing video keno the game likes to mock your changes by making every number you had been playing light up gleefully as you gnash your teeth...but not this time. No...I had outmaneuvered the little video gremlins and foresaw the changes they were going to make. I caught them unawares, with their pants down. But then, you sit... you sit and look expectantly at anybody that's wearing some sort of neutral colored polo with a ring of keys hanging from a chain connected to their belt. During the scourging you are waiting, before you get to the payout, the jackpot, the kisses that put you in close to the handsome man or woman you never thought you would be able to kiss... ever... in your life. And now, here you are, on the precipice of just a jackpot, of just that one chance in a lifetime.
My mom had finally pulled herself away from her own delusional fantasy and came over to where I had been playing. She smiled broadly after asking me what I had done. Why does it always take a moment before you realize that you have won. It only takes seconds to realize you've just spent the last buck twenty-five of your paycheck into the devouring beast but it always takes a second look for it to register that you have over ...holy crap... $52,456.12... what??? I look up at the payout board above the machine and realize I had been playing a progressive keno game and I had just won over fifty-two thousand dollars. I whisper the amount to my mom, as if the loud music, flashing lights and blinking signboard won't alert this to anyone.
I get a feeling in my chest/gut area that I associate more with expectant love. That internal empty ache as if I'd been away from someone I want to love too long. The sensation of heartache just slightly south of the heart area. Images flash through my mind of material things; boats, motorcycles, clothes, boots, outdoor furniture, golden retrievers, jewelry, Disneyland towers, swaying palm trees and deep blue surf...all a quick blur and then I shake my head and start being more practical. I should pay off my bills, help out a few friends, buy stuff for my mom.... the clothes, boots and jewelry creep back in and I let it stay, but in the background. I give my mom some more money and she heads off to another machine. She's been through this dance before, too.
The attendant finally arrives and unlocks the machine. She is a portly woman and pretty. Her make-up is near flawless except for the lip liner being too dark for the lip color and her reddish brown hair is pulled back in a severe ponytail making her eyes more slanted than usual. She's oriental, of that I'm sure, just not which one. I look around for my mom, she'd be able to tell. She looks my way finally and smiles, then locks the machine again and says she'll be right back.
I sit back down in the burgundy swivel chair and spin a mere thirty degrees back and forth as I wait. A few patrons are coming right for me so I protectively lay my hand nonchalantly on the machine I was playing. They ask me if I won. I smile and nod, not wanting to get into any deep conversations. They point and gawk for a minute. I smile and nod. Thank you, I say, as if I really had anything at all to do with it. I realize where my hand is and pull it back. I feel like an animal protecting its kill. What the hell is wrong with me?
My mother meanders over again, craning her neck to look at the screen. She asks me why they haven't come back yet and I slightly snap that I don't know, I have no control over the employees here. I feel remorse immediately and try to apologize but she just smiles and sits down next to me to wait with. She starts to speak about what I should do with the money and I ask her very gently if we can talk about it after we leave. We'll go have lunch and discuss it then, away from here, away from everyone who knows. She nods knowingly after glancing around and sits quietly. I ask her if she wants to play and she says no. So we sit.
The oriental lady returns with two men in tow. One unlocks the machine again as she approaches and her partner hands me a clipboard with tax forms to sign. They ask if they can take my photo for their wall of winners and I decline, as politely as possible and then they proceed to the payment portion. I have to remind myself to breathe as they count out the money. I keep looking around, checking for stalkers and the like. My paranoid radar is up on its highest setting now and that pleasant ache has turned into a deep knot of fear. I get a flash of Delia's smile and push it away.
The wad of cash is enormous and I ask if I can get a check instead. They say I'll have to wait to spend any of the money if I want a check and that if I wanted a check, I should have requested one before they went to get the cash. What?? My anger starts to bubble but I consciously make it subside. Damn woman didn't say two words to me and expects me to request a check. What? Do they think this happens to me all the time? Like I know the procedure? I smile and nod. Forever smiling and nodding, it seems.
They do offer to have security walk me out to my car, which I gratefully accept. I guess they automatically assume that a big winner will leave once they have their winnings. Whatever happened to the offerings of free rooms and meals to keep you there in hopes you would give some back? We actually were going to lunch there but I indicate to my mom that I think we should go and she heartily agrees. In the cab of the truck with the windows rolled up tight and doors firmly locked all reserve is released. We gobble like turkeys on Thanksgiving eve.
The Experience Part II
After about a month, I'd barely made a dent in my winnings. I've told no one… well, let me clarify that. I'm horrible with secrets so I told no one exactly what I did, although I do mention to some that I won a pretty goodly amount. The practical side of me pulled my credit reports and I paid off every bill I owed. I bought the boots I wanted and some pretty, frilly blouses and skirts (to wear with the my new, cool, stomping boots, of course). I also bought the motorcycle I've wanted forever and had a search out for a Volkswagen Thing. I gave my mom and sister a bit to spend where they wanted and even some to my nieces and nephew. I gave some to some friends I knew needed it, yet still, I'd barely touched it. I kept going to work, like normal… well, maybe a little later than normal, but I'm the boss, so who's to notice?
I decided, in a state of 'O My God! I've got to do something with this money burning my ass!' that I'm going to buy some property. It's always been my dream to own a piece of land where I can build my off-the-grid compound with its underground shelter and storage area and where I'd eventually install walls topped with razor wire and turrets mounted with 50cals at each compass point. Hell, I may even go as far as digging out a moat. The house, of course, would be Spanish-Mediterranean one and a half-story style with mosaics, frescoes, an open courtyard filled with climbing vines, water loving plants, little lovers nooks, and a central round seating area complete with fire-pit for people to gather and discuss such high minded subjects as the esoteric meanings of numbers and political philosophies, as well as deviant conversations such as the true origin of civilization being brought about by the fermentation of grain and beer being the true god of civilized mankind. Well… that and the top three things that turn you on, of course.
There was a small real estate office in the little strip mall right around the corner from my mom's house that specialized in mobile home sales and property. When I entered the bells wrapped around the door handle tinkled and the fluorescent lights seemed to jump. The vertical blinds were stained with age although the business was actually quite new to this mall and the light filtered in leaving streaks of sunlight along the left wall. There were some old worn metal chairs bordering a country style coffee table next to the window and two lonely desks sitting side by side near the back. They looked like military surplus metal desks I had seen growing up my entire life except for the absence of piled papers and folders. These were almost Spartan in comparison. A bookcase stood directly behind each desk with matching four drawer file cabinets at the outer flanks and the matching wire wastebaskets hugged the outer sides of both. No one was in sight.
An older man came out of a central doorway in the back and we exchanged pleasantries. I informed him of why I was there and he suggested a few places. As his back was turned I noticed the Rolodex on his desk. It was unusually large and on closer inspection I realized it wasn't a Rolodex at all… well, not for the norm anyway. It was filled with pictures of properties and a short description underneath along with a type of reference number. How cool is that? I asked, he explained and then he let me be to peruse the rolling, fast cash, real estate carousel. By the time he had returned I had three cards lying on the desk. He talked me out of two leaving me with a 25-acre piece of lake front property in New Mexico with a small single wide trailer already on it. It was technically already off the grid as there were no phone, gas, or power lines to it; the whole shebang ran off propane. It was just a mere forty thousand dollars and if I offered cash he could probably get it for me for thirty. Whoop, whoop!!
Me and my mom, along with my soon to be Jewish friend and a few girls from church (Audra, Sherri, and Emily) piled into the rented SUV and headed for New Mexico. I don't remember a lot of the trip but I do remember seeing a golden, long-haired, German shepherd along the journey, just standing by the side of the road licking the newly fallen snow. It was late autumn. We settled into a beautiful four story Best Western or sum-such and slept most of the first day there. The owner and I had conversed over the phone and Internet frequently so he was expecting me. He did mention that he'd be having a party and asked if that would be a problem. Without hesitation I said no, it might be nice to attend a party.
The Experience Part III
Upon arrival the front door was wide open and the place throbbed with the deep bass of dance music. The smell of hard alcohol, pot, and coconut tanning oil instantly hit our nostrils and invited us in. Directly across from the door was a bar complete with bartender. A black piece of textured plastic separating the bar from the dining table extended out a bit too far so the bar only accommodated two as opposed to the four or five it apparently was able to. A few people sat at the heavy, wooden dining table...dining - and a smaller table in the center had a couple of men playing some game similar to backgammon on it. To the left the room was dark except for the occasional flash of the disco lights and the glow of bracelets and necklaces on the dancers. A dimly lit hallway beyond that showed three closed doors; one on either side and one in the center. To the right was a shallow kitchen with bay windows and views of the lake. It was also in a shambles.
The church girls and soon-to-be Jew headed straight for the bar, my mom into the kitchen and I just stood there in the doorway allowing my eyes to adjust trying to discern the owner out of the crowd. I was approached by a tall, beautiful, blonde man dressed quite preppy who introduced himself as the owner's room mate. It seems 'Mark,' the owner, had to step out momentarily, but would be back later. He gave me a pointing tour of the place and apologized for the kitchen where we saw my mom cleaning. I asked if that was okay and he nodded instead of yelling over the music. He was leaning in close and I could smell coconut oil and Old Spice. Mmmmm...nice. The anal Virgo in me steered me into the kitchen to help my mom.
We had left Vegas in such a hurry that all that needed to be done hadn't so I found myself counting the days receipts for our store in the center of this strange place, in the middle of a throbbing party with my gung-ho cleaning mom guarding my back. As soon as I was done bricking up the money the new Jew said she would take care of it and left. My mom wanted to grab some dinner so she left, too.
I worked on the kitchen some more and when I looked up, there, standing next to me was a strikingly handsome man in a kilt no less, replete with knee sock/boots and a wide open shirt...the better to see the muscles of his chest with. It was if he was ready for a Ren-fest with his ruggedly, beautiful good-looks. He smiled broadly and had near perfect white teeth and I smiled back. His dark hair hung down below his eyes in perfectly spaced strings and when he moved his head the whole of his hair moved with him. I guess he heard his name called because his gaze snapped back into the party and he left with another parting smile. I went back to cleaning. I couldn't seem to get a handle on things so waved over the girls and they helped out a lot.
The party started to wind down and I know each of the girls had found some partner of sorts. Emily and Sherri was no where to be seen and Audra was sitting at the bar with her own gorgeous man deep in some philosophical conversation. She had to be enjoying herself because her usual conservative nature was motioning rampantly all over the place. It must have been near morning . My mom returned, looking very refreshed and cheery. I wanted to give her the receipts I had counted but couldn't remember where I had put it. I was sure I had put it in a secure area and my heart started to thump with the thought that it might have been absconded with. Then my mom remembered that new Jew had taken it so she would go back to the hotel to check. She asked that when she returned we would go for breakfast and I agreed heartily.
Then kilt-man returned; him and his wickedly bright smile. This time I said hello when I smiled back and he just smiled, again. I asked if there was anything I could do to help him and he asked why? "This is twice you've been in my kitchen flashing that pretty of yours yet naught's been said," I replied, still with the shit-eating grin on my face. "I thought you might be married," he said in some accent I couldn't place. I gave him one of my very palpable 'What in the hell were you thinking' looks that he would never have recognized since he didn't know me but everyone else seems to know so very well when another kilt bearing man entered the kitchen and wrapped his arm around my man. He mumbled something about it was time to move and my man just smiled (at me) again and allowed himself to be led off. I stood there in disbelief.
For the first time of the night I moved out of the kitchen area, after watching dozens and dozens of prettily clad men and women come in and out of the open door, always with a smile on their faces. The party had been a great success, with the crowd being overly receptive to everyone who entered the door. Even with the dwindling numbers everyone who entered the door brought a cheer from the remaining party-goers. Sitting at the game table was the room-mate with his beautiful, sun-lit (with no sun) perfectly feathered, blonde hair. I lean down to his ear and ask as quietly as possible over the still reverberating music if he has heard from his room mate? He pats the bench next to him and I sit.
We made a bit of small talk and he explained the mishap with the bar plastic divider thing and then he asked me why this was the first he's been able to get close to me all night. I didn't know he was even interested I relayed and then he kissed me. It was a long, deep, wet, lingering kiss that grabbed the very root of my loins. After the kiss I realized it was actually him who had grabbed the root of my loins and it was enough to want to send me under the table. We kissed again and the fire in me swelled hot with lust but this time when we pulled away from one another I struggled with my sense of duty as I remembered I had made other plans. I knew it would be better to stop now than to get too deep in the throes of passion, where there is no turning back, so I pull away and in the throatiest of whispers, I say no.
In the perfect timely fashion that all mothers have, she returned and I bolted up from the bench hurriedly adjusting my skirt and re-buttoning my blouse. I went to introduce her to– I leaned down again to ask his name and before I even finished the question he said that his name was Tom– Tom but she would have no part. It seems our soon to be Jewish business partner had never returned to the hotel room and neither were the days receipts there. I told her it wasn't right to assume something so quickly and she said she was going to look for her. I was to finish up with what I had to do here and join her as soon as possible.
'Tom' seemed a bit upset and left. The girls had returned from their nights adventures and we discussed leaving when a trio of very young boys appeared in the doorway. They asked if I was the lady who had bought the place from Mark and I confirmed. They informed me the real owner was coming so I'd better watch out and as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone. I stepped out onto the porch and saw a lurch of a man coming up the walk followed by a trinity of large black women in short, crayon-bright skirts and a tall, statuesque, older white woman in a pale blue evening gown with a fur wrap bringing up the rear.
When I stepped back into the trailer the lights were on, most of the people were gone except my girls and another four or five others and the place had been set aright, as if no party had ever occurred. The older lady swept in and commented on the cleanliness of the kitchen and moved into the dance floor area, which had been the living room, apparently. It was decorated in a country style powder blue with matching curtains and she gushed at how Mark had kept it so neat and clean. Everything seemed perfect in her world and I asked… I stepped forward and asked who the heck she was.
She was the owner, just returned from a three month vacation and happy to be home. I informed her of my purchase and from behind the lurch and three black girls came a small black woman who informed me that I was not the owner. How did she figure, I asked and she started to explain but I didn't hear a word she said because out of no where music began to play and the three black women started to perform as if they were the Marvelettes or something. The owner frittered about adjusting this and that with a knowing smile playing on her lips and in my state I interpreted it as a smirk and so again I stepped forward... yelling above the cacophony of shooby-doobies to ask the question again of how the hell did she figure. The music stopped, the girls swirled back into place behind lurch, and the small, petite, Dionne Warwick-like lawyer explained that Mark, the woman's son, was only a partial owner and did not have the authority to sell the property. I would need to take up any problems I had with my realtor.
The Experience Part IV
I was fuming and stormed out. Slamming the car door, I roared off into the snowy, dawning day. In my head I replayed the days events. The one person we should have been able to trust just may have robbed us blind; I may not be the owner of the perfect piece of real estate on a lake; I may have just lost thirty thousand freakin' dollars; I lost out on a phenomenal looking man in a kilt, I allowed myself to be molested by a man I didn't even know damn near in front of my mom, and I cleaned a goddamn kitchen I didn't need to freakin' clean. Holy freakin' crap! What the hell was wrong with me?
I was approaching a tunnel and saw the disappearing partygoers asleep in a pile at it's mouth. A small piece of road still existed to the left of them so I decided to drive by, albeit slowly. I passed naked elbows and knees and legs and arms that protruded from the pile with clothing hanging precariously on half naked limbs. The snoring was loud so I wasn't concerned for their well-being. At the end of this mass of human flesh was a pile of golden fur and in the midst of the fleece lay blonde 'Tom.' There was still a path beside the blanket of hair, but suddenly, appearing before me as I looked up to check the path, was the golden, long haired shepherd, licking the snow off the side of the road. He was too close to the sea of similar colored fur to give me enough time to weave around so I stopped -but with my driver's side tire in snow, the golden car I was driving skidded sideways and finally stopped, barely missing the heap of folks and the throw of pelts.
When I exited the car, the golden shepherd was waiting for me and pushed his head under my hand. The sea of fur, I realized, were several golden shepherds all sleeping soundly and I waded into the troupe. I found a spot between three of them and laid down. The other shepherd came with me and settled in, laying right next to me. Tom was two dogs away, facing me and he smiled from under his living fur blanket. I smiled, too, tired, and resigned to give in. Things would look better after some sleep. Snuggled up to the puppies, I allowed my fingers to run through their soft, silky fur and was comforted by it. They too, seemed to enjoy the petting. I curled up my legs the best I could and closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift. I opened my eyes and looked over at Tom and thought about getting up and inviting him over to the hotel.
I opened my eyes again and the hum of the computer completely freaked me out as did the creak of the chair I had fallen asleep in. I had fallen asleep and all that...all that vivid, real, colorful, loud, smell-o-vision experience had been nothing but a long, bad, incredible dream. It only took a mere hour and fifteen freaking minutes.
I fell asleep in the chair again, but only for a couple of minutes. Just long enough to be back in the hotel room, packing bags with Sherri and Emily in the bedroom talking about how uncomfortable the bed looked and for Tom to throw the freakin' covers off his naked body and tell them how comfortable it actually was.
Holy freakin' crap!
This is one of the first very vivid dreams I've had in a few months. I love these dreams, no matter if they're "bad" dreams or not, just because the experience is so very, very real. This one actually has a lot to do with what is going on with my life. Some of you know a little; some know a little more, others know nothing at all… I'm usually not one to share.
But in the essence of education, if you are interested at all in dreams and their interpretation, send me a wire and I'll update you of what's happening with me personally and you can see for yourself just how closely this dream echoes the reality I know.
If you don't want to pry or just don't care I'll give you the lessons I got from it all.
1 Never buy real estate from a rolodex in a strip mall.
2 Never trust anyone with your brick of money.
3 Never clean a kitchen that's not yours unless you've used it first.
4 Know the name of any man who is feeling you up.
5 Never trust a man named Mark. (Subject to discretion)
6 Beware of entourages with lurches and Marvelettes.
7 Dogs will always be a great comfort.
8 Mothers will always be there for you no matter how stupid you become.
9 Don't ever let a kilt wearing man get away.
10 Oh and the biggest lesson of all - If I'm gonna write like this more I need to get an editor so i don't have so many gosh darn run on long sentences of the likes that plague this story.
originally posted October 7, 2007
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