Dream Part II, The Less Direct Metaphorical

After having the first part of the dream (see previous post), I think I was ready to relax and have some fun. This one will likely be short and sweet.

I’m in a large grocery store. I have an understanding that it’s HEB, which is a store we have in Texas and a few in Northern Mexico. ¡Viva Mexico! (Subjunctive).

I notice, as I’m standing in line to check out, that self-powered scooters are rentable here in the store. I don’t know how much they cost, though my understanding is that they charge by the hour. I decide it’s a good idea to rent one, and do.

I’m not alone in doing so, no. I’m with a friend, who remained, for the duration of the dream, nameless and faceless. The important part is that I knew this person was a friend. It could have been any one of you out there, in fact. Thank you for your friendship.

I’m zooming around the store, barely missing people with my front tire. The scooter, incidentally, was of the three-wheeled variety, and felt quite rickety as I made turns in and out of isles of comestibles. At certain points, I am no longer in the HEB, at least it looks that way. Instead, I am in patches of grass, crossing small wooden bridges, themselves quite rickety.

All the while, however, I get the feeling that there is a single person who, more so than any of the others in the store, wants to kill me. Literally, I have the sensation that if she got ahold of me, she would commit homicide. She never gets to me before I wake up.

The scooter itself is quite interesting. As aforementioned, it has three wheels, one in the front and two in the back. The seat is from an elementary school classroom or library. Someone must have removed the plastic portion of the seat and bolted it down to the scooter. As for the self-propeller system, it’s quite simple. There is a PVC pipe, about one inch thick, which rises from the bottom of the scooter to about two feet above my head. It comes out from the back of the scooter, and runs along the vertical midpoint line of the plastic seat. I reach with my right hand above my head and grab the handle that’s on the end of the pipe. The handle is made using a 90-degree elbow, also made of PVC.

As I’m zooming, controlling my speed with the handle, an older gentleman with a mustache and glasses tells me that I’m doing it wrong (see Nelson from the Simpsons, petting Santa’s Little Helper, “You’re doin’ it wrong, you gotta pet him hard so he can feel it”). He instructs me to move the handle to the front of the scooter, and it’ll be much easier to get power. I do, and it is. Good Samaritans.

That’s all.