Honest Stuff I Make Up · · San Francisco

Dimwit Dimly Lit

I dreamt an episode of Friends. Sadly, my favorite Friend, Phoebe, isn't in it as the storyline follows my least favorite Friend, Chandler, and the shenanigans that result when he is made floor emergency leader at his office. Basically, he discovers he's able to set the circuit box to shut off power to his floor for thirty minute increments while he takes naps. Soon, all hell is breaking loose when Chandler comes back from one pasta lunch after another, pushes the button, and dozes off with a stupid grin on his face. Meanwhile his disoriented co-workers try to find him so he can distribute the emergency flashlights, but he's conked out. It's a hoot, really. Upon waking, I regret that the dream episode doesn't also include two of the other Friends—specifically Joey and his clone—stuck in an elevator because then it would most certainly be a sex dream too. Oh well. When I recount the dream to the person I wake up with, he says Ross is his least favorite friend: "I hate Ross like you hate Chandler." He also says my dream sounds more like an episode of Seinfeld. Then we lay in bed watching television and listening to the rain until the I Love Lucy "Mink Coat of Confusion and Anniversary Subterfuge" episode ends and we look at the time and feel like lazy dogs who need to be fed.

Tip of the hat to Jeff. Read his Friends episode.