let’s see…a dime bag plus s&h…

Posted by beth on March 18, 2008

Well, first of all, one of my students (the one who has prophetic dreams) told me today that supposedly, people who remember their dreams are a sandwich or two shy of a picnic. She and I high-fived over our newly formed crazy club.

Now, last night, I dreamed that I was driving a truck. It might have been an SUV, but I think it was a truck, and I think it had a bench seat…my favorite.    Anyhoe, I was stressed out about something in the dream, and I reached over into the floorboard of the passenger side and picked up a box that was packed full of joints. They looked like professionally-wrapped cigarettes (like commercially produced), but somehow I knew that they were marijuana. And I contemplated smoking one, but then I decided that I shouldn’t do it, and that I should also get rid of them asap. So I took them to the post office to mail them, where I ran into a police officer who informed me that they’d been having problems with people mailing drugs, and he’d have to search my packages.

I pulled out the pot box, pointed at the return address and said, “Well, this one has my name on it. Why would I put my name on a box of drugs?” This logic worked for him, and we moved on to the next thing on my person, my purse. It, of course, was clean. And the last thing I had was a box of towels, which he didn’t even look in. He just shook it, decided that it felt like towels and waved me on through the line. Rather than mailing the pot box, however, I ripped the part with the return address off and threw the whole thing in the trash.

I remained concerned that someone would find the box and get my finger prints either off of the box itself or off of the one joint I considered smoking, but then I woke up and remembered that I’ve always been too much of a goody-goody to have anything to do with that sort of thing. Except for the bench seat. I’m all about that.