Bitchin’ Camero

I had a job that was more like a class. The office was dark and there were rows of school desks filling the room. The entrance was in an alley in a very urban area. The people sitting at the desks were high school age. My friend from high school John B. was in the class.

When I arrived at work, John B. beckoned for me to come sit near him. I was happy he was there, but when I went over to the empty desk, a mean black girl sat in the seat just as I was about to sit down. I told her to get the fuck out of the chair and she pretended not to know why I was pissed.  I grabbed her by her hair, and since I was unable to punch her as physically hard as I wanted to, I began squeezing her face as hard as I could. She was mocking me for not punching her, and would not get out of the chair.

Suddenly I was arriving at work again. It was the following day. It was unexpectedly snowing, which was good because I was late. When I got in, I apologized to the boss for being late and blamed the snow. He was understanding. He was my old boss from the Magic Corner.

Then I was in the alley outside of my job, in the passenger seat of John B’s white camero. He was telling me I should have punched the girl from the day before. I told him that since I was having a dream I couldn’t punch her as hard as I wanted. I was aware I was dreaming as I answered his question, but not before or afterward.

John B. complained about the shitty gas mileage the camero was getting as he started to do a 3-point turn in the alley. Partway through the turn he stopped the car and got out. He got on a bicycle and I walked. I wasn’t sure where we were going, but I was irritated that I was walking and he was on a bike.