Well that was one goofy-ass dream...

I was working in an office. I was told to fetch a file on one of our clients. His counselor was P.J. Walsh (a pretty brilliant comic everyone should see). He needed a form that was in the file. As I looked through it, it started to grow and get more complicated, which happens a lot in my dreams. A simple task becomes ridiculous and causes me to veer from the focus of the dream, which is usually way more fun than the task. This time the file became overly stuffed and included a box of old stuffed animals. I decided I could get that form online and left the file on the table. I went own the hall to find my boss's assistant. I went into my boss's (Barbra Streisand) office and found her on the phone, yelling angrily at someone. I retreated and shut the door. At the end of the hall was a storage closet. I knew the assistant was going to be in there. People were coming and going in and out of that room. They were busy setting it up so some dirty hillbillies could live there a while. I stood at the door for a second and decided I was in the way should step away and wait for the assistant to come out. A woman came out to talk to me with two of the hillbilly children. She said, "You can't disrespect these people like that. Looking at them is disrespectful." I guessed she was some kind of dirty hillbilly social worker. The two children said, "Yeah, you can't do that! You're stupid!" I knew it was useless to try to defend myself so I turned and walked away. I decided I'd go to the grocery store (also in the building) and get myself some lunch. The store was being remodeled and workers were restocking the low, open freezers. I wanted a chicken pot pie for lunch, but all they had was cartons of ice cream. I sat down at the lunch counter, which was really a row of freezers with a counter top, and waited for them to find the chicken pot pies. I felt a pair of arms encircle me from behind and a soft voice whispered in my ear. I knew that voice belonged to my dearest love, Michael Cera. We left the grocery store and went to the apartment we shared on the ground floor of that same building. I puttered around for a while. I looked up and saw that Michael Cera was driving away in a golf cart. The body of the golf cart was made of wicker (pretty cool, I thought). When he came back the cart was loaded with members of my family (none of them were my real family). As they got out of the cart they started arguing and accusing each other of several different crimes. They were yelling at each other and saying they all needed to behave because they were visiting me. I frowned at Michael Cera and he looked at me with a helpless expression. I knew then that he'd only wanted to surprise me with a visit from my loving family. --------------------------------------- I think I'm reading too much Game of Thrones.