Monday, April 04, 2005


(Wow. This post is quite long. Uh, sorry in advance.)

This weekend included was an exceedingly lazy Saturday. It was raining all day, dampening (HA!) any incentive I may have ever had to get dressed and leave the house. So, I spent a good part of the day sleeping, and wondering whether there was anything to eat in the event I should, you know, actually decide to put some food into my system.

I watched a DVD of "Splendor in the Grass" which, for some reason, kept putting me to sleep. Damn those old movies with no excitement and loud noises designed to cater to the ever-shortening attention span of the American public!

Two strange dreams hit me when I finally gave up and went to the bedroom to nap. I share them with you now. Each of them requires a little background which I haven't yet shared with the readers of this blog.


Even longer-term readers of this blog probably won't remember, but I went to Seattle to visit with some of my best friends over Thanksgiving. I didn't elaborate on it then, but my one friend C.W.T. I later referred to as "wildly tactless." Apparently I still bear some subconscious annoyance of what happened that weekend.

While having coffee with C.W.T. and two other friends from high school, C.W.T. uttered probably the meanest thing I have ever heard anyone say to me in all seriousness: "Dennis!, you are the most superficial person I know."

I could get into a slew of details about how offended I was; how C.W.T. himself would probably be the most superficial person I knew if I bothered to give any amount of thought to it; and how that makes C.W.T. the most hypocritical sonofabitch who ever walked into my sphere of existence, but I'll pass and spare you all the details. But I do think that most annoying of all was the fact that C.W.T. and I met in the eighth grade, yet he clearly knows very very little about me. Also insanely aggravating was the fact that the other two people present for this conversation have also known me for over half my life, and while C.W.T. was hurling this invective at me no one thought to come to my rescue and tell C.W.T. that he was wrong. (Instead, for some reason, everyone thought it would be fun to discuss what, exactly, it is that makes Dennis! so superficial because, well, clearly he is, and there's no point in even arguing the opening premise of this discussion.)

So for some reason this entire scenario popped back into my dream on Saturday afternoon.

In my dream, C.W.T. and I were, for some reason, having lunch or something. How this came to pass, I don't know, because I have promised myself that I will not break bread nor talk with a "friend" who thinks I'm the most superficial person he knows again absent an apology. (Besides, who would want to spend any time or effort keeping up with the most superficial person he knows anyway? I'm sure C.W.T. wouldn't.) But there we were. I know I wasn't in the mood to speak to him, that's for sure, and since it was just him and me at a cafe or something somewhere, this made for a fairly tense and quiet lunch.

C.W.T. kept making random comments about things; I refused to engage him in any conversation. I just sat there, concentrating far too much on whatever food product was in front of me, making sure not to eat it too fast or too slow, but certainly just praying for an expeditious end to the meal.

At some point, C.W.T. decided to be more explicit, and actually uttered the word "superficial" -- this time (probably because this is my dream), with enough tact to divorce it from circumstances accusing me of being that way. I felt my body rankle at the reference, but I maintained my resolve not to speak.

C.W.T. finally spoke up further, and gave me the most heartfelt apology for saying what he did. I don't recall the exact words, but I know it made me feel "good" hearing it. Actually, I recall it wasn't really that I felt good; I think I felt more vindicated by his apology.

I don't think the dream continued through to where I actually responded to his apology.

But it's all in my head anyway, because I sincerely doubt that the apology I apparently seek will ever come to pass before Kristi Yamaguchi does a triple lutz on a skating rink in hell.


Recently, I had dinner with a few people whom I would normally consider friends, except that they managed to piss me off beyond belief that night.

DD and Lana are among my better friend in this city, but sometimes they can work my last nerve. We were having dinner along with Kim, who I'm sure is a nice girl. I say "I'm sure" because people say she is, but every time we're together -- which invariably means that DD has invited her to join us -- she turns into megasarcastic "Mean Girl" bitch. I'm sure she thinks it's fun and cool. I hit tolerance limits for such behavior very quickly.

So we were having dinner and talking like we usually do. And I was getting picked on, like I normally am. I guess it's just my personality that bring out the mean side of other people. Most nights I can take it. For some reason, this night I was not in the mood.

At a standard break in the conversation -- you know, where one train of discussion has pretty clearly ended and the next one hasn't yet begun -- I decided to bring up a new topic. No, it wasn't related to the last conversation that had just ended. Perhaps it was something of a non sequitur. But still.

"So I judged a moot court competition this weekend..." I began...

... whereupon all three girls at the table burst out into hysterical laughter.

I don't understand what was so funny. To this day, I don't get it.

"What?" I asked, bewildered and more than a bit peeved. No answer was forthcoming, despite repeated "What's so funny?"s.

I gave up. Whatever story I was going to tell about my experiences judging this moot court competition evaporated in a puff of smoke, or, more appopropriately, in the smoke the was gushing forth from my ears.

"No, really," Kim piped in, the three of them finally recovering. "Tell us your story."

"That's quite all right," I responded. By this point, I'm just happy that we've already paid the check and are just dawdling here, because if we hadn't received our food yet, the rest of this night would be crazy awkward.

"Aw, tell us," Kim said, probably feeling just a little bad. "You're such an amusing storyteller."

"Apparently," I rejoined, "I'm pretty damn amusing before the story even makes it past my lips!"

I truly hated sounding like such a pissant whiny little bitch, but that outburst of laughter was just so uncalled for I really didn't feel like being Mr. Congeniality. I felt like a recalcitrant child, and I really did hate myself for that. But it is how I felt, and I couldn't help it. It's fun to laugh with people; it's certainly no fun to be laughed at.

So the story never got told, and I basically clammed up until we finally left the restaurant some ten minutes later, save for the occasional "Thank you"s to the waiters who were still refilling our water glasses while we sat there and they talked.

My dream this Saturday apparently picked up on my yet-unresolved (and indeed, undiscussed) animosity stemming from this incident.

In my dream, I come home to my apartment, except that it's not in the state I left it. Currently, in real life, it's a mess. This is because I am a slob of the highest order. In my dream, I came home to find my bedroom and living room completely redecorated and insanely clean.

"I can see my floor!" I exclaim. "What the heck!"

I start walking around my bedroom, marvelling still at the fact that I can see my floor, and yet wondering where all the crap went. Part of me thinks Have I been robbed? but most of me just thinks how cool it is that the place is so clean. I look into my closet (most of the crap in my bedroom right now is clothes that have gone through the laundry but have yet to make it back onto to hangers) to find that all my clothes have been hung up nicely. I even identify some new storage boxes which appear to contain clothing which otherwise would have been scattered all over the floor.

I climb into bed (and "climb" is the right word, for indeed, it has now been elevated, forming something of a loft bed, creating more space beneath it) and look around. Someone has provided an excellent angle to see my television from the bed. The television now sits atop a nice dresser (which now lacks protruding clothes) and I can still see my floor.

I'm still wondering who the heck did this, and how they gained access to my apartment. (Part of me is also just slightly embarassed because of how messy the place was before the elves worked their magic, and because there was some, uh, compromising material in plain view in the living room.)

Then I look over to my right, where a small, inconspicuous sign is posted near the head of the bed. It's from DD, Lana, and Kim, and it says something like "Enjoy the new room! Sorry for the unfortunate rudeness of the other night."

For some reason, I think this scenario is even more unlikely to play itself out in real life than the one involving C.W.T.

I'm starting to think that I'm in desperate need of new friends.


katie said...

I would agree that you do indeed need new friends. I would also say that the dream with the clean apartment is awesome. Maybe you should actually arange your stuff that way? Could be your subconcious telling you your friends suck, but your apartment has great potential.

Dennis! said...

Katie: Unfortunately, as often happens in the stuff of dreams, the actual dimensions of my bedroom with a full size bed (not even a queen, mind you) do not comport with my dream space. There is no way I could fit the stuff I saw in my dream into my actual room. *sigh*

Matthew said...

So, you're utterly convinced that you're not superficial? I don't know you nearly well enough to know if this is true, or not, but coming from a relatively neutral P.O.V., it's something that crosses a person's mind (that maybe your friend(s) are right?

It's also important to remember that who we've chosen as friends are really representations of ourselves, to an extent. In other words, what about you has led you to have friends that you are now on the verge of despising? It's important to self-analyze here, for if you do end up kicking them to the curb, make sure you don't fall into the same habits that will make you choose similar new friends.

This has been Matt, commenting yet again on your blog. It'd be nice if you returned the favor sometime.


Melissa said...

I'm glad to see (read) that I am not the only one with shitty friends.
; )