The Dream

I hadn’t had a dream in a while. At least not one that stayed with me the following day. And then last night happened.

I wake up in my apartment, which is apparently now part of a duplex. I’m heading out the door. It’s a Sunday morning. I start to get into the back of a large van when I notice that the home across the street has burned down. Then I notice that the street is lined with emergency vehicles. It takes me a moment to realize that the other half of my duplex is also quite charred. No one thought to wake me or evacuate me, I suppose.

I am now standing up in the van; a firefighter approaches. He’s a sort of plump, jovial young guy. He tells me that houses are burning down. And then he asks for my number. Naturally, I tell him that I don’t typically give out my number to strangers. So he calls over the fire chief as a character reference. Seriously. I don’t know what to do, so I agree to give him my digits. As I fumble around for a piece of paper, he bends down and starts to draw shoes on my bare feet with a Sharpie. It hurts, but I ignore him and scribble my number on a scrap of paper. By the time I’m done, he’s wiped off the marker shoes completely.

Cut to hours later.

I’m back at home. No smoke damage in my half of the building. I get a phone call. It’s the firefighter, who asks me about my morning. I tell him about church, which almost instantly kills the conversation. All of a sudden, another voice is on the line; this time, it’s a guy asking me about Koinonia. I tell him I don’t go there very often.

The end.

Yep. That’s about it. Any Daniels or Josephs out there who want to do some interpretation, go right ahead. I think it’s pretty clear that A, I sleep through anything, including my street being engulfed in flames, and B, I’m not afraid to use church as a way to repel guys. Oh, and C, Sharpie shoes fit better than real shoes.