Saturday evening, for the most part, is pizza night in the ol’ Purdy abode, and last weekend I must’ve ingested the right amount of cheese and peppers and green olives to make for one of most bizarre dreams I’ve ever experienced (that I can remember).
I was staying in a mansion of the Xavier Institute variety (note: I never discovered why I was there) and had popped into a break room/kitchenette of sorts to grab a cup of coffee. A woman standing by the bagels listening to music glanced at me and said, “I better leave before the invisible man tries to see my Spotify playlist again.” Then she booked it. I thought she was referring to me and found the comment quite rude. Next, I needed to use the restroom and as I was hurrying toward the bathroom an actual invisible man saw me coming and raced to beat me to the facilities. When I say actual, I mean he was done up in the bandages and sunglasses and a bathrobe??? I made it in ahead of him, but when I went to use the toilet it was clogged. In the room next door, I found two of my current coworkers (in real life) and lamented that I was going to have to ask the host for a plunger to unclog a toilet I hadn’t clogged, but would no doubt get blamed for.
I have a sneaking suspicion it was the invisible man from earlier.
Strange dreams indeed.