So yesterday morning, my body decided to wake up at 7:45 a.m. I thought I would carpe diem and rearrange the furniture in my room. There were many logistical problems with the previous setup; mainly, I didn't have a bookshelf to hold the books, magazines, and CDs that I am using as sources for my thesis (the result being piles of stuff all over my floor).
Those of you who have seen (or helped me move) my furniture know that nearly all of my pieces are made of sturdy and heavy solid wood (none of that Ikea pressed board crap for me). In addition, many of you know how embarrasingly weak I am, and that I have had tendinitis in both of my arms since the age of 11 (thanks mom and dad for scheduling junior golf and tennis back to back).
As you can imagine, after moving my furniture around for several hours, I was pooped. I decided to read an article on participatory and presentational performance while re-aligning my back on my bed. Bad idea. I fell asleep (see My bed), and proceeded to have a really really strange dream.
My dream took place one year in the future. I had moved to either Chicago or New York (to get my PhD) and somehow with the advice of my friend Nate (see Things that Nate Likes), I had decided to move into an urban apartment with a bunch of hipster dudes.
Nate was helping me move, but I got tired and took a nap (yes a nap within a nap) and when I woke up one of the other inhabitants had arrived. I thought that there were only two bedrooms so I grew increasingly confused about how many people would be in each room (seeing how I didn't want to share a room with a dirty hipster guy). Shortly after I had this thought, I realized that the living room was another bedroom that was quite large.
Then another hipster showed up. He had long, soft and wavy red hair and ridiculous glasses. He was wearing a flannel shirt. This dude looked really familiar. I commented on this and he said something along the lines of "Sorry, I only keep in touch with people I like, so I guess that is why we don't remember who each other are." And I replied, "well... me too, but you look familiar." Then I figured out that he had been in my preschool class when I lived in D.C.
The weirdest part of all of this, is that when I woke up and thought about the dream, I realized that the hipster dude in that dream actually did look like my best friend in preschool in D.C. The only exception was that this person was a girl in real life, but they looked exactly the same (except one was a small three-year old girl, and the other was a twenty-something dirty hipster guy).
WEIRD.
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