Dream Journal # 6

Meanwhile, in a divergent reality stream....I awoke in the woods, somewhat cold and damp. Two moons stared down at me through the tree branches overhead....looking like baleful glowing eyes of evil....tinted red, like moonlight after a forest fire. The sun rose eventually, fat and squirming with those sunspot things that make you feel like maybe you got some of those tainted drugs from overseas at the four dollar generic counter at the supermarket. I could hear a highway sound down the hill....I made it to the roadside, and tried to hitch a ride, but the big trucks all had robot drivers who looked just like crash test dummies....they looked neither right nor left, just stared straight ahead and kept rolling. I kept walking with my thumb out when I heard something coming. A pink Cadillac came cruising down the pike, looking like one of those Mary Kay jobs. The brake lights came on just after the lady went past....I could see what had to be a peroxide wig....."Jump in, honey." she said. It was the Phyllis Diller robot from "Space Balls"....or maybe that was Joan Rivers, I get those two confused. We rolled on down to a truck stop, to get some eats. Clark Gable and W.C. Fields were in a booth by the window, in black and white. Betty Boop was our waitress, and Dagwood was behind the counter, flipping burgers. Indiana Jones came out of the mens' room, wiping his hands on his slacks, like when there aren't any paper towels, and you have to use that silly air blowing thing. Come to think of it, I had seen a motorcycle with a sidecar out front. We slid into a booth, and ordered two burger baskets with iced tea. My robot friend got her's to go, since she's a robot. She said I could have the extra meal later, as we rolled on towards evening.