I had a dream last night that I woke up so angry from this morning. First thing I can remember I was on campus at my university attending some sort of special lecture. It was night time and I was there with my friend Oli. Anyway the lecture is in what looks like a highschool gymnasium and there are a bunch of folding chairs out. Immediately I tell my friend I don't want to stay and we should leave. He agrees but for some reason we stay. Shortly after the lecture starts this ugly black girl sitting in front of me starts picking at my jeans. I get very angry at her. "What the fuck are you doing? You don't just pick at another person! What the fuck?"
Then this other girl on my left looks over and says, "Well you've got all this tomato sauce crusted on and it's gross." I look down and sure enough she's right but I let her know that it's none of anyone's business what I have on my pnats and they should keep their hands to themselves. Then I storm out with Oli close behind. I axe him if he wants to go smoke a joint.
"Nah, I got tickets to the Senators game tonight."
"Oh yeah? What time is the game?"
"Nine." I glance up at the clock and it's 9:42.
"It was past nine when we got here man."
"shite." That's the last appearance of Oli in this dream.
Later, and I'm not sure where exactly this fits in, I find out from another friend of mine that Oli's girlfriend dumped him the previous night.
So I'm driving home. I should note that recently somebody hit my car in the middle of the night and put a big fucking dent in it, so I've already got some car rages in me. Anyway I pull in at this convenience store because I've got no food in the house. I'm barely parked when I look back and see some kid tampering with my trunk. He's obviously finished whatever he's been doing and runs back to his buddies' car when I lean out the door and yell, "HEY COCKSUCKER!" He looks scared shitless but he has already made his escape. Its then that I see the guy driving their car is a guy I used to work with named Mark. I let him know that I know where he lives and that I'm going to ruin his shite. He doesn't seem to care. At that point I remember that all I have in my trunk is some soccer balls. They're driving away and I'm yelling at them that I don't care about those soccer balls anyway when a very large beaver runs right at me through the parking lot. I'm briefly worried but it goes right past me.
I look around in the convenience store for a couple minutes but it's incredibly tiny. There's barely enough room to turn around, plus the girl working the night shift has decided to spend some time painting and has set up an easel that's taking up most of the room. I leave empty handed and inspect my car in the parking lot. There's some damage around the trunk where the fucker pried it open and it looks like they tried to do something to the inside of it but didn't get very far.
Back on the road and my car no longer has power steering and I'm lurching all over the place. I slam on the brakes. "At least those work," I remark to myself just before the car starts sliding forward from a full stop for no reason. Right about then I woke up in a fit of rage.
Behind closed doors.
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