Saturday, April 21, 2007


Yesterday I met up with my old boss for a beer. He was a really great boss, but he left just a couple weeks ago to take a much better job within the company. I miss having him around, but I was looking forward to hanging out with him in a purely non-work capacity to see if he'd let his hair down a little.

Well, the guy doesn't have much hair left to let down and, as it turns out, he still keeps it pretty tight. He was the most professional and diplomatic boss I've ever had, but his goofy personality and his penchant for the f-bomb (sprinkled liberally like only a real New Yorker can) gave me hope that, once we were out of the boss-subordinant role, he might really open up and be more real.

He was ok, but he still didn't behave any differently than he had in the past. We ended up talking a lot about work, his new job and the state of my workplace in his absence. We also talked about social services in general and my upcoming job search, but whenever the conversation strayed too close to our personal lives, he'd get a little squirmy. I also noticed that, whenever he'd ask me questions, he would fidget and look away when I answered, as though listening to my answers was just an unpleasant biproduct of the social convention of asking questions. Weird.

But he did tell me one story that ended up planting the seed for a really cool dream I had last night. We were commiserating about the flu we both recently had and comparing notes on our respective medications when he told me about a bad experience he had a few years back with Vicodin. He said he'd never taken it before and had no idea that, within two hours of taking it, he'd be vomiting and hallucinating. I said, "wow, you may as well have just taken peyote," and he said, "yeah, that would've been a lot more fun."

So last night, I had this incredible dream that I was hanging out with my mom's family, all my aunts and uncles, my grandparents, my mom. Some of them were the same in the dream as real life, and some were different, but I understood who they were supposed to be. And they were celebrating me for some reason, giving me presents. But the presents they were giving me were drugs!

First, an aunt came up with this huge brown bottle full of the prettiest, fanciest, greenest pot buds you've ever seen. They were huge and gorgeous and like something out of High Times magazine. And then, an uncle came over with a basket full of mushrooms, but they weren't the dried up, ugly little shrivles I used to see in college. No, they were huge and succulent, almost like some kind of fruit. And finally my mom pushed this tiny little pill across the table, the size of a bb and the color of beeswax. "What is it?" I asked her. "Ecstasy," she replied.

Pot, mushrooms, ecstasy. All from my family. And the coolest thing was that we were all going to use it together. I started slicing the mushrooms up into bites and ate them one by one with that same excitement I used to get back in the day. You never know what's going to happen, but you know it will probably be really cool. My uncles were rolling joints and everybody was really happy and really excited. It was pretty sweet.

It's weird b/c it's not like drugs have ever been a major part of my life. I haven't done *any* drugs in years and don't really plan on starting any time soon. But there was something so exciting in the dream about getting altered, the possibility of entering other worlds, of hallucinating... so interesting. And with my family! I'll have to spend some time on this one, sorting it out. It was a good one.


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