the great dream was fairly uninvolved and perfect in its simplicity. long story short, a not-so-random guy and i are joking about our mutual desire to live in germany which leads to half-interestedly perusing various housing websites, then plane tickets, then visa registration until suddenly we realize that we've applied for an apartment, applied for visas and purchased plane tickets for the next month. next thing i know, we're squeezing each other's hands as we're boarding the plane.
the terrible dream was more typically disconnected from reality and obscure. the lighting was dark, in swimming reds and purples like most of my less desirable dreams. i was at work but work was now understood to be in some weird building that looked like a bizarre, skewed version of my normal store, like an alternate-reality pet people with tweaked dimensions and no retail shelving. the check-out counters had become a single small podium like the kind you'd find at a restaurant. it was late and i was closing with our newest employee, my crazy hippie next door neighbor with like three teeth. he was wearing his street clothes instead of a uniform: patchwork corduroy shorts and an over-sized orange and yellow hawaiian theme button-up, unbuttoned with a white undershirt. my problem with him was not his appearance or obnoxious tendency to play bad music at 2 am. my problem with him was that he was mentally retarded and no one could see it but me.
i mean literally retarded. he would coo and babble, drooling uncontrollably at times, and spend most of his time exploring his own face while laying curled up on the floor behind the podium. this stressed me greatly and it was even more frustrating when i would point at him doing something incredibly retarded and people would ask what the hell i was talking about, say that i was pointing at a perfectly normal human being. he would be babbling and flipping his lips with a limp-wristed claw-hand and customers would seem baffled, "he looks reasonably intelligent to me. what's the problem?" the other distressing issue is that the customers seemed either to be invisible or merely disembodied voices. in each conversation, i would obviously be making eye contact with someone standing somewhere but they did not actually exist. of course, it was not distressing that i might possibly be insane because this was all perfectly well and dream-logical.
at one point, i turned around and my retarded neighbor was playing with the money in the open cash register drawer. i have no idea where he found the dexterity to open the drawer at all, but he did and he was delightedly pulling bills from each well and slapping at the drawer with them. this culminated with him cramming his new paper toys into his pockets. the invisible customers also witnessed this and saw nothing wrong with it, asking why i was raising such a big fuss about nothing. "HE IS RETARDED AND HE JUST STOLE FIFTY DOLLARS. WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM UPSET ABOUT?!?! AAAAAAGHGHGHGH!!!"
that was about the extent of my dream. it's amusing now but i woke up pretty pissed that i had to go back to work for another shift with the tard.
last night, i had a great dream and a terrible dream. it's been a really long time since i've had non-abstract dreams that actually pertain to the stuff of my desires. usually, i am a giant gorilla carrying dakota fanning through some broken down fairgrounds. (i've had that dream three times now.)