I heard my front door open and immediately snapped out of my unconscious state. I've never actually had someone break into my home before, but I've gone through the scenario in my head enough times to know exactly what to be aware of and how to react. I turned my body toward the bedroom door and saw a shadow coming down the hallway. I blinked my eyes and she was there, standing in the doorway. I rubbed my face and shook my head to clear away the fuzziness and force my eyes to focus. At first I was certain I was hallucinating, but as my vision cleared and adjusted to the darkness, I confirmed it was her.
I got out of bed and started moving closer to her, she didn't move, but her eyes followed me as I walked toward her. I wasn't concerned with how she got to San Fransisco, or into my house, or what any of it meant. I just wanted to touch her, I wanted to put my fingers on her face and feel her skin, I wanted to kiss her lips and hold her securely in my arms. As I got closer, however, she turned and continued walking down the hallway toward a room at the end of the hall I had never seen before.
She opened the door and revealed an empty room with two stools, centered, about three feet away from each other. Perched on the stools were two cats, one that I immediately recognized to be my Ivory colored, well fed, and rather arrogant cat Lemon, the other was a dark colored, long haired cat with a rather scraggly overall appearance I had never seen before.
I looked up at Elle, bewildered and dumbfounded, with the hope that she could bring clarity to this bizarre scene. She pointed to the cats and told me to choose. Choose? I thought as I stepped up to examine the cats more closely, they were each wearing a collar with name tag pendant. I looked at Lemon's tag and confirmed it was her, I wasn't about to have two strange cats in my home. I looked at the name tag on the second cat, but my vision blurred at first and I couldn't immediately make out what it said. I rubbed s my eyes to regain focus, although it was still blurry, I was able to make out the name, "Bay-Bay," and in surprise I took a step back and felt the floor give way. I fell backward and began a free fall into darkness, the only light I could see was the hole through which I had just fallen as it quickly faded away.
Before I hit the ground I awoke from my dream with a jolt that launched Lemon off the bed in surprise. I was going to apologize to her but she gave me a snotty look and walked out the door.
"Fuck it," I said out loud to myself, "she won't even remember in 15 minutes anyway, because she's a cat."
I picked up my phone to find two new messages waiting for me, Allen had called saying they were going out again tonight and it was compulsory for me to join them, that was, of course, if I was able to "get all the sand out of my vagina," which I assumed meant sleep off the rest of my hangover. I had. The other was from an old friend of mine, my best friend from high school actually, whom I had not seen since the last time I was home for spring break during college. It had been years since he and I last spoke and I was curious to see what prompted such an unexpected call. Before I could listen to his message Allen beeped in and I had to switch over.
"Hey buddy, how's the --"
"The sand in my vagina?" I asked dryly before he could finish his sentence. He laughed, well pleased with his own joke, and happy to hear I was feeling better. He told me they were coming to pick me up in twenty minutes. I made it sound like I was unsure, but by now I was well aware that I didn't really have a say in the matter, and tonight I was actually pretty excited about joining them.
I put the phone down and started getting ready, I couldn't help but dwell on the peculiar, yet vivid dream I had during my nap. I looked in my living room hoping to see the scraggly dark furred cat, I even checked down the hall to make sure there wasn't actually a door at the end of it. I came to the conclusion that it was just a dream, then I hopped in the shower to get ready for another night out.
Nobody gives a shit about what you're saying right now, you don't know the weatherman from the local news channel, you didn't play golf with him, and no one would care if you did. I gave Tom my usual friendly head nod and escaped the break room with my morning cup of coffee without being trapped by one of his inane questions. He was on another one of his insanely idiotic monologues, a conversation which started with him asking a few of the younger guys how their weekend was, and then immediately became a one sided lecture about his weekend golf trip with a local celebrity. He was an older man, out of place with the younger core of employees throughout the office, and while he was doing his best to impress us, nobody had the heart to inform him that we don't watch the news, especially not for the weather. We get our information from Google, like normal people.
The day crawled forward, I was discovering that alcohol has a combined effect, and can wear on your mind and body for days after your last drink. At least that's what I remember from the healthy drinking class I took my freshman year of college. Whether or not it was true, my mind was still fuzzy from the unlikely yet intense drinking I did over the weekend. It was also wearing on my patience.
My awareness of the people with whom I worked was heightened to the point where I possessed the talking points sufficient to verbally destroy half my co-workers before I finished my morning coffee. The little things didn't bother me, you could tap a pen, clip your nails, whistle all day long, I didn't care, I normally had headphones on anyway. It was the inconsistencies in logic, behaviors which revealed absurdity in character, or just the utter lack of purpose that I couldn't stand.
Whether it was the sales guy in the break room who couldn't shut the fuck up for two seconds to realize he did more talking than actual work, the IT guys huddled around a computer screen, entranced by a blog post about a car that can MySQL inject police speed cameras, or the secretaries working together to figure out some trivial problem which validated their miserable fuck existence. It was the lack of substance, the who-gives-a-shit moments where you can't help but ask yourself "why is this person talking to me?" What got me the most was the underlying assumption that there was something more to life which transcended this one and justified not taking advantage of every waking moment.
Normally I don't have a problem keeping these thoughts to myself, since keeping my job depended on the ability to play well with others. Today, however, my mind was cloudy and my patience was wearing thin. I was dangerously close to telling one of the account managers who worked near me that the raw food diet he kept going on about made him sound like a fucking douche bag, then I saw Allen coming around the corner. He saw me and gave back a big smile, then stopped and asked me if I was up for lunch later. I wasn't sure if he was still being nice to me because my girlfriend had just dumped me, or if I had made an impression on him over the weekend, either way our short exchange was just the breath of fresh air I needed to get through the rest of my morning. Ridiculing Jerrod's raw food diet would have to wait (it did make him sound like a twat), I suppose I had work to do anyway.