I really must stop taking Advil at 3am!
I had a dream that included a friend from JoAnn's, the JoAnn's store, my ex-husband, a man who lived across the street in a small bungalow, with a pool in back and the ocean a little farther back, and my old neighbor from when I lived in a trailer park--but not my neighbor, no. Her son's wife, who was no longer married (the son, not the mother, although she wasn't married either, but I digress. And if you could keep up with all of that, well, you're a better man than I am, and that's for darn sure!).
The dream began with me in a JoAnn's store, and my friend (who resigned from the job) was trying to figure out how to put together a classy display for the front of the store. We were shopping together, and we took all of our cart contents to the back of the store--when the day was over, I went "home" to my ex husband, and life as his wife, bored to the teeth desperate housewife--that was me.
The man across the street turned out to be a tax evader. He was "in the railroad business". Well, he certainly was a loser. He tried to railroad me pretty hard, even though he knew I was married to my ex husband. Wait, did I just type that? It was an interesting, although confusing and complicated dream, and that's how I know when it's a dream and not reality, when I'm something that I would never be in a million years--my ex husband's wife.
One of my old school chums was in the dream too, and he was helping my husband (er, ex husband) to protect my honor when this guy reaches into my dress and undoes my brassiere. Of course, I slapped him--are you kidding? I'd seen the parade of loose women come in and out of his bungalow. I know I was being flirtatious, but it didn't merit THAT.
I tried to palm him (rich guy, good looking, great space) off my my neighbor's ex-daughter in law...after slapping her a couple times because she was being STUPID about it. Never did like that girl.
All of a sudden, there's my ex husband, tackling this guy with the friend from high school, they taped his hands and half of his face and beat the living snot out of him, that's when I went inside the bungalow and found the shoes. Funny how you remember certain things, and not others, isn't it? He kept a pair of matching sandals (silver slingbacks with 2" heels) in his bungalow in a size that he could wear and a size big enough for a transvestite, so I presume that he was a tad perverted, too. Perfect for my neighbor's ex-daughter in law. (You have to understand that I didn't know about the tax evader stuff until after this cursory "search" of the bungalow.)
I stepped out the back, and that's when the cops came. I slipped down into the deep end of the drained pool to hide, then decided I'd look guilty, since my ex husband and the guy from high school were responsible for beating the guy senseless, and presuming that the guy had called the cops, I figured I'd better get out and start back to the front of the house to meet the cops from the yard, rather than from the inside of the house. I hadn't disturbed anything, but those shoes surely disturbed me.
When I got to the front, they were hauling the guy to the squad car in cuffs, and my ex husband puts his arm around my waist and says "He told you most of his business was in another country--Luxembourg--in railroads. Fact is, the feds have wanted him for years for tax evasion, and finally caught up with him."
It was about that time that my neighbor's ex daughter in law showed up in a stunning long white crepe gown to go out on a date with him. When she saw him being stuffed into the back of the cop car, she came up to me and tried to slap me, but I stopped her easily. We watched the cop car fade into the distance on the main road.
That's when we threw a party, and all the local tugboat captains came.
That's when I woke up.
So don't say "I want some of what she's drinking!"
It was the Advil. I swear it was the Advil!