Churning, burning for your love

Yes, James Taylor did “Steamroller” last Friday. It was an excellent concert and I had a really nice time. Still thinking about it several days later. Other waters churn as well. My son’s time as a preschool is only about three weeks away from ending permanently, and then he will be a kindergarten pupil. I saw a woman with a baby in an Ergo carrier yesterday and thought, where did my little baby go? He was just here a moment ago, I swear. My mind is also churning. I had a dream last night that I had moved back to Los Angeles. In the dream, my old boss, who is a really swell guy, agreed to give me a job at my old company, which has now expanded a great deal (true, not just a dream thing), but he wanted to meet with me first to see how I could best fit in (that’s a dream thing – he is actually president of the whole company now, and lives in Chicago, where HQ is). When I lived there, my job was in this historic, small, old building downtown, and when I went there in my dream, the whole interior had been uber-modernized. It kind of looked like what I’d imagine Google offices look, crossed with the sort of giant, sterile setting at the Cleveland Clinic. I couldn’t find where the offices were and was wandering around lost. My friend Shannon from high school was there (who I just saw on Saturday, so that’s probably why he cropped up), on his way to his own job, and tried to give me some direction but I didn’t understand what he meant, so he said I could follow him until we got to where he was going. These Star Trek like sliding doors opened up and everyone was sitting in barber’s style chairs and I said, “are you getting a haircut?” and he said, “no, this is the cafeteria, I work here.” It was super weird. I thought I found the offices and wandered around inside but nobody was there yet, and finally I found a lady who had just come in and asked if I could borrow her phone to call my boss and ask where he was, and she said yes.

I got my boss on the phone and he said oh, sorry for the confusion, we aren’t even in that building anymore, we are now in Rancho Fire, which sounds like a pretty good name for a California town. He gave me the street address and I was about to say, “wait, where the heck IS Rancho Fire,” but he had clicked off. I didn’t even know how to leave the building, where the exit was, and the secretary lady I had bothered said, “It’s over by where we put the corpses.” I am not kidding. I was just like WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK KIND OF PLACE IS THIS. I just kind of looked at her and she pointed. “You know, the corpse elevator.” I was just like um, ok, and then I said, well, I guess I will figure out where Rancho Fire is, I’m guessing it’s 20 minutes away, and then I laughed. She just looked at me. I said, “Everything is 20 minutes away in LA, right? Doesn’t anyone say that anymore?” “No,” she said, “They don’t.” I went off to try to find the corpse elevator and figure out how the hell I was going to find Rancho Fire. All I could think was that moving back to LA was probably not a great idea, and why would they hire someone who couldn’t even find their offices.

I woke up, for real, at 5, when I got a text message, and half thought it was my boss calling to ask where I was. Not a restful night.

 

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