August 30th, 2019

Blow My Mind

Last night I had a dream. You weren't in it.

Ah, dreams. I think about them a lot, and after last night's I had this wider thought:

Many, many, many descriptions of dreams boil down to "Something that shouldn't make sense, made sense!"

At some level, many dreams do make sense to the dreamer, but without all the filters in your head to help reflect and refract the dream's sense, that description will often become really boring and pointless to anyone who listens to you describe it.

The most I'll describe about the events of my dream last night is that they involved a hotel room, driving away from the hotel and taking a complicated route to do something based on a plan I hadn't nailed down with other people, realizing I'd forgotten an important thing to do at the hotel room — SHOULD HAVE TURNED OUT THE LIGHTS, DARN IT — and having no luck getting back before the dream ended...

...but seeing interesting stuff on the way. Like a food cart that literally could not be seen when looked at one way, but could be seen when looked at another way. In other words, this dream-food cart was somehow disguised unless you knew where to look for it.

Getting even further into the weeds of this dream, I looked at the cart as I passed and thought "Oh! That kind of reminds me of the food alley!" Which is a dream location I often dream about, this alley between brick-and-mortar restaurants which has more eateries. Portland obviously has food carts, but it doesn't really have alleys like this, other than a block of road in Old Town/Chinatown (around the corner from the original Voodoo Doughnut) that was converted into a pedestrian-only alley. The food alley I picture is narrower, more eccentric, very DIY with its furnishings and hangings to protect people from rain...and with wonderful food.

Yes, of course I dream about good food.

Thinking about the big conflict of the dream, where I needed to detour back to the hotel to turn off a bunch of lights, I can realize now that I'm awake that all I would have needed to do was JUST CALL THE HOTEL AND GIVE THE STAFF PERMISSION TO ENTER THE ROOM AND TURN OFF THE LIGHTS THEMSELVES. And also, likely, because I'm me even in my dreams, to thank them for doing so and to apologize for making them do so. See? That would make sense.

Maybe this all would make sense if I keep talking about it, but, you know. Boring and pointless to others.

But I'm glad I like my dreams.


(Title paraphrased from a Randy Newman song, because I'm me.)
Clay. Bill...Clay.

Money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, moneeeeeeeeey

While I was out today — driving to Moreland/Sellwood, stopping at the library, walking around the neighborhood's antique shop district and people-watching — I stopped at a branch of my bank. For maybe the first time in my life, I deposited not a check but cash: the bulk of my August tips from work. I'd come up with a cunning plan: save up that money to, eventually, do something with it, and why not put it in my savings account? Then it could do a little work itself and help me get those little bits of interest while I decide what, perhaps, to do with it later.

Satisfied with watching an ATM swallow those $5, $10, and $20 bills* and tell me exactly (and correctly!) how much that was, I continued on my day out, got home, and went online to where I could do an electronic transfer of those funds from my bank to my credit union.

I couldn't, turns out.

I think I know why it didn't work, and it's probably related to the credit card balance I have with my credit union — don't worry, I'm working on paying down that, it's manageable and I accept that I have a balance to pay — but I also didn't want that tip money to stay in my main account that I use most often. So I wrote a check to my credit union for that same amount and mailed it off. My tip money will go where I want it to go.

Am I more of an adult now? I got excited about financial transactions.



* Once so far, a few months ago, a customer tipped me a $50 bill.**

** I wound up not saving the many $1 bills I'd gotten; I decided at one point this that it made more sense to add those to my pocket change. Meanwhile, I'm working to be a better tipper of other people, and having cash to do so helps...


Entry title a quote from this.