I just had a really weird dream. I'm going to try to jot down now as much of it as I can before I forget....work be damned!
In my dream, I had just finished up some sort of performance and was wearing a tux. As I went into the dressing room, I decided to keep the tux shoes on because they did not grip the floor much, so I could thus dance in them better...and damn it I felt like dancing! And I decided to keep the tux jacket with tails on over the jeans and red t-shirt I had changed into, because I had seen on Queer Eye that wearing a tux jacket with jeans is cool. I felt great and liked the way my shoes slid on the floor when I wanted them to, so I ran out of the dressing room and slid across the hall. Then I did a pencil turn.
And the next thing I knew I was in the middle of a full-scale dance routine spilling out of the little hallway that connected the dressing room with the parking lot and taking place in the parking lot. There were flips and spins and lifts -- the whole works. The number was a cross between a cheerleader routine, with people stacked up on each other in 3-levels-high formations and tossing each other and doing flips and jumps, and an ice skating extravaganza, with triple axels and camels and lutzes, except in my dream I couldn't decide whether there was ice on the asphalt of the parking lot and everyone was wearing ice skates or whether everyone was wearing roller skates. I'll have to admit, my subconscious did quite a nice job with the choreography! We finally finished the number in a big tableaux facing out of the parking lot -- a nice final pose which we held for a couple of beats before everyone dissipated.
So it was time to go home, and I was giving my friend Indy a ride. My truck was there -- the only car in the lot -- and I put my stuff in the truck and turned the ignition to let it warm up. But then my truck wasn't there. Weird! So I looked around the lot. I walked down the short driveway and looked down the road. I looked around the hedges that separated the lot from another road (perpendicular to the first)... but I couldn't see my truck. And now I couldn't find Indy either, since he was no longer in the lot. But he called me on his cell phone. He told me he thought I had driven off and forgotten about him, but I explained that I was in the lot and had no idea where he or my truck were. I said I was afraid that maybe someone had stolen it.
But suddenly the truck was back in the lot. It just reappeared, as if it had been there all along and we just didn't see it. So I told Indy to get over here, wherever he was. He was on the other side of the row of hedges, so he walked around and got in the truck.
As I released the brake to back out, I noticed a cell phone under the hedges. Indy had dropped his phone after we had hung up! So I got out of the truck to retrieve it for him. As I walked back to the truck, it started to roll backwards, even though it was parked on a level grade. It started to roll backwards, and I couldn't catch up to it in time and Indy, on the passenger side, could't get to the parking brake which, if you recall, I had released. The truck rolled out of the parking lot, down the short driveway, across the road, and -- to my horror -- down a deep gully, rolling over several times on the way down and landing upside down in a wide ditch far below. I feared the worst for Indy.
I called 911. They asked if they could put me on hold. I objected, saying this was an emergency, but the woman on the other end said, "I'm sorry, there are no other operators," and put me on hold. My mind was racing a million miles an hour trying to figure out what to do while on hold. I shouted out for help, hoping maybe there was still somebody in the building or on the other side of it who would hear me and might provide assistance. I thought about climbing down the gully into the ditch to see if I could get to Indy and save him. However, the current in the ditch was strong enough that big waves were splashing violently around the truck, such that I probably wouldn't be able to get to the truck without getting knocked into the water and swept away. The 911 operator came back, and I explained my situation and tried to give her my location. I didn't know my address, but looking up I saw a street sign. "I'm on the corner of...," and tried to disinguish the print on the signs. I couldn't read one of them because of the angle it was at, but the other read, "Seventh & Bay." (!!!) As I read this to the 911 operator, the current in the ditch flipped the truck over, and the truck started to drift downstream towards a tunnel opening. I spied a glimpse of Indy inside the truck and could see that he was alive -- Thank God! -- and that the water inside was up to his midsection. I also could see him typing away on a laptop, no doubt trying to send me an e-mail or text message, since he no longer had his phone.
This is where the dream really became surreal. I was going frantic on the phone explaining that the truck was about to enter a tunnel, and who knows what horrors awaited in there. The truck finally drifted through the tunnel opening. I was losing hope that we would be able to get to Indy in time, but now there was a woman to my left holding what looked like the end of a balloon or condom. She asked what she should do. It became clear to me that this latexy thing was somehow attached to the truck. She could try to pull on the length of latex to try to pull the truck out of the tunnel, but then she risked snapping our lifeline and losing the truck in the darkness beyond. Or she could try simply holding on, hoping the current wouldn't take the truck too far or snap our latex lifeline, allowing rescue workers to get to the truck and rescue Indy. And, of course, if she let go of the line, we would have no way of tracking the truck through the tunnel system below. This is when I noticed that the 911 operator was there standing to my right and the scene has actually been transformed to a hallway in a hospital, looking down into this big ditch and tunnel. (!?!)
The operator told the other woman, apparently a nurse or orderly, to try pulling gently on the lifeline. As she did, there seemed to be little resistance, as if the truck was so buoyed by the water as to weigh practically nothing. I took over the pulling and lifted the truck out of the tunnel, clear out of the ditch, and held it dangling in the air -- for the truck was now about 2 inches high by 4 inches long, floating in a plastic bag of water like a goldfish from a pet store, with a miniature Indy still inside the truck! While I puzzled about the truck's changed dimensions and about how to restore Indy to his full stature, I woke up.
 I say this both in a general sense and in a specific "getting there on time versus writing down the dream" sense.
 I didn't really see this on Queer Eye -- or at least I don't think I did; it was just my subconscious giving me some excuse as to why I'd put on fading jeans and a red t-shirt but leave my tails on.
 Having danced in a competitive show choir for three years and having been in several musicals since I was a little kid, I feel qualified to recognize good choreography.
 It's so nice of the subconscious to help out. My mind new I didn't want to move away from the side of the gully, so rather than making me move closer to the sign to read it, it just gave me both street names on one sign. I no longer remember whether it was really "Seventh & Bay." It may have been "Blanchard & Bay" or something else that started with B, but it was definitely in the format of "-- & B--."
 And yes, we were both still talking to our phones, her with her little headset phone, despite our close physical proximity.