That Doesn’t Make Us Friends…

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It’s a little nuts what your subconscious will hold on to. I had a pretty normal evening last night and we hit the sack early because we’re starting a new regimen with our working out that will take longer to complete in the morning so that of course means waking up earlier. But the dream I had last night seemed like my subconscious was just reaching out and grabbing at anything. It was truly bizarre. I’ll try to recount as much of it as possible because only the end really stuck with me and made sense and made me think.

The setting was this apartment, which in and of it self is strange because my “home” in my dream’s eye is usually in queens where I grew up. So that shows some definite mental progression. And although I’m living here, in the dream, with my husband… this seems to be a headquarters of some kind for some secret operation that a few of us are a part of… a few friends… a couple of celebrities, namely The Rock (Dwayne Johnson). Just a handful of people commissioned by the POTUS to protect the secret of a new personal jet pack that is being tested and will be released to the public before long, but the details are sketchy and we can’t allow TMZ to get their hands on it. So we go about our day by day operations to keep it under wraps. An anonymous tip comes in one day citing that there’s something afoot that all of us don’t realize. A female voice sounding like she’d been crying states, “The ground isn’t always sure. We walk on it as if we know it won’t give…. but sometimes… it does… there is too much trust and not enough evidence,” and hangs up. Strange some of us think. But we don’t really give it too much credence. Until pictures of some of the agents on the team start to surface. Pictures of them, while they were supposedly on missions for our purpose, carousing with females or males that weren’t their spouses and acting out in outlandish ways. This breach in trust has everyone scrambling. In some ways it seems in this dream that I might be the captain or in charge of this movement. And it finally surfaces that my husband in the dream is also doing his own thing when I’m not looking. An audio recording of The Rock black mailing everyone that is getting found out is discovered and that’s when all hell breaks loose. He makes it to hq and li’l ole me essentially kicks his ass. I tear up the whole apartment in the process and someone keeps telling me that if I keep going this way, I’ll lose the deposit on the apartment when I move out. This as I’m breaking off pieces of the stair well to use like 2x4s and randomly whack The Rock in the back of the knees or in the stomach or ram his head into the wall. Obviously? I’m incensed. My husband in the dream caught it too. I ended up throwing him down the stairs and spitting on him … which, if y’all know? SO not like me. The spitting part that is….

No one at HQ can call 911 because again… this is a secret operation. So we have to call in this special team implosion prevention group (because there are groups like this everywhere, I guess and this kind of thing happens regularly). Their helicopter lands on the roof and we take the two guys I beat up and put them in the copter and I get in and ride shotty. We get them to the hospital and they get all cleaned up. No broken bones, just bruises and otherwise hurt egos. We begin our helicopter ride to DC, now because we have to report in on the debauchery that led us to this point. And I’m sitting next to The Rock… and I say to him, “Why didn’t you just tell me instead of use all this information for yourself. I thought we were friends.” Incredulously he replies, “No… what made you think that?? I’m not your friend.” “Why aren’t we friends? I let you live in my home… I looked out for you every time we served on a case together. I was always calling you and your family to make sure that you all had everything you needed… what more does it take to be a friend?” I shot back. He hung his head and mumbled, defeated, “That doesn’t make us friends.” And I sat there in the dream with my world completely rocked (no pun intended)… Well Gosh… if that doesn’t make a friend… what DOES? Dream ended off with a scenic pull away from the helicopter’s cabin as it flew over the Washington monument in the direction of the White House.

Beyond everything it was a well directed dream… the cinematic quality was of the utmost! LOL

But you know, I have to write these things down or else I’ll forget.



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