Truly bizarre, David Lynch levels of weird, dream. Inside is my friends office that he used to share with his folks at the family business. Of course, dream logic being what it is, the office looked NOTHING like it actually did. It was white and absurdly long. He and I drink coffee from a Kuerig-style pod brewer. We then take the pods and crush them flat, like you would a soda can. On TV, in the office, was an ID-Discovery type true-crime show about a murder that happened because a celebrity tweeted a photo of himself at another celebritys modest LA home, and stalkers were able to track the home down and murder one of the party guests. Drinking coffee we watch the program, and discuss his upcoming trip to Disney World in Florida. I see a sign for a business outside that I think is funny, so I get up to take a picture of it. I step outside, and its different. Outside the office, its Los Angeles. Inside, its central Wyoming. But out here, its warm and humid LA, about sunset. Try as I might, I cant get a clear picture of the sign advertising the business Wine & Shit. I desperately want to post the picture with the caption Where I get all of my wine, and most of my shit. However, no matter where I stand, I cant get a good picture of the sign. Giving up I hop up and sit on the hood of a long creme colored convertible. Like Id always been sitting there, and had only gotten up a moment ago. Flipping through my phone I see a singer of some note has posted a twitter picture of himself outside the house of an actor of note. Saying hell be performing an impromptu concert on the driveway. I recognize the neighborhood and think to myself I should check that out. Another part of me sees the irony, and recognizes that time has looped back, and someone will be murdered at that party. Sitting on the hood of the car, a few friends who live in LA walk up. Havent seen them in a while. We catch up briefly, and Im reminded that I owe one of my friends a cartoon sketch of a monkey suggestively eating a banana. Embarrassed, I excuse myself back into the office. My friend sips coffee watching TV, his family enthuses in the background about Florida. The TV continues about the murder. For a brief second, I make the grim connection, then say I guess it already happened. Cant do anything about it NOW. I sit down with scratch paper and draw a rude and rudimentary monkey eating a banana, suggestively. I leave looking for bigger, cleaner paper. Into another long white room. Full of desks and computers. I recognize several of the couples seated around various desks. I put a friendly hand on a friends shoulder and its shaken off angrily. I notice that none of my friends are happy. It dawns on me that theyre all getting divorces. And I feel terrible, as it dawns on me that this is just about every married couple I know. Quietly I walk back to the door, and open it. As I do, my friend and his family in the office open their mouths wide and begin a long sustained scream. Looking back towards the divorce office, they all are screaming. Through a window, my LA friends are screaming. I open my eyes, to the sound of wailing sirens on the street, not far from my window.
Posted on: Tue, 06 Jan 2015 05:24:09 +0000
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