I didn’t intend for this journal to become a linkfarm, but I see that I have succumbed to that fate recently. To make up for it, I offer up this dream, which occurred to my coworker, Paul, but starred me.
The warehouse at work had been transformed into a large ship anchored off the Florida Keys. We were all meeting in the breakroom. Jimmy Buffett was secluded inside a small cabinet with porthole windows, making margaritas for everyone. Paul and I were chatting with him. While talking, Jimmy’s hair was visually receding while his beard was growing, as if the hair was migrating southward.
“You know, I used to have a pretty good following, but I’m happier now. Here Paul, let me make you and your buddy a drink.”
Jimmy then pours a trashcan-sized pitcher with two handles and slid it out of the cabinet.
“Jimmy, you know I don’t drink anymore.” Paul quit drinking 10 years ago.
“That’s OK, Larry can finish it for both of you.”
At this, I lifted the pitcher in both hands and slowly drank the entire (20? 30?) gallons of margarita. No one else seemed to find this strange. My eyes turned glassy, but I didn’t act drunk. We kept talking to Jimmy about boats and work.
Later, Paul and I walked out the backdoor, onto the deck of the ship. I stepped to the rail and started peeing into the sea.
“Paul, I don’t think I should have drunk that whole thing...”
Just then, Jimmy yelled something and Paul and I turned around, causing me to pee all over Paul’s feet.
Paul awoke to discover that his toddler son had climbed into bed and peed, soaking the sheets.