One morning I heard Carlos get up to take his shower. I, however, was nowhere near ready to wake up, so I drifted back to sleep where I dreamt that Carlos had gone to some sunny beach spot for a work seminar. And I stayed home; except I didn’t.
I snuck off to surprise him. But when I got to the unnamed, though gorgeous, beach hotel—and let me just say, I dream in vivid color and detail, so it was some swanky spot—and buzzed Carlos’ room, he didn’t answer. I tried several times that first day and he never answered. I thought maybe he was at a seminar class, so I coerced a maid into letting me into the room where, and this is a dream, remember, so there’s no rhyme or reason, I stole his shoes. I guess I was hoping he’d realize it was me, except he didn’t. I still didn’t hear from him.
So, I called his cell phone; it rang and rang and rang, and when it finally picked up, it clearly wasn’t Carlos but some other man. I was pissed. And then I heard Carlos behind me ….
Sweetie pie? Sweetie pie? … It’s time to get up …
And there he was on the bed waking me up from my dream. And even after I told him what he’d done in my dream, he never apologized for ditching me and not answering his phone or explaining who that was who picked up when I called!
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