Bad Blog-Related Dreams
You blog-pals of mine - you know who you are -and I know you through your comments here and from reading your own posts, have shown up in my dreams from time to time. Never mind that I haven't seen pictures of some of you. I just made your images up if had nothing else to go on. Most of these dreams have been nothing to speak of. Maybe running into you somewhere or having a conversation in some setting. Until last night.
I owe this one to Claypot, and her magnificent blog on life as a humanitarian aid worker in the Zambian bush. So, dear lass, I write this post for you:
In this dream, I was visiting you in Zambia, along with a handful of others who I assumed to be bloggers as well. When we arrived, we found you in some sort of medical facility that was rather grubby and was packed with AIDS patients. (See what all those AIDS posts did!!) I remember needing to use the facilities and...uh... it kind of freaked me out because, lets say, it was not the luxury to which I've become accustomed.
You decided we'd gad about some and you would show us the sights here and there. For some reason, you gave me a stack of checks inside of envelopes to hold along with a piece of native fabric to wear as a wrap. Spared the experience of the Coach from Hell, we walked to a rail station and were going to Lusaka, (though I gather from your posts that there is no such transportation.)
As we walked, I noticed -and this was a very bad thing- that I had no shoes on. There were vendors at the station (which was very third-worldish) selling shoes and wraps and things, so I tried to find some that fit, because it was obviously a grave problem to be without them. We had very little time and everyone was getting aggravated because this proved to be more difficult than I expected.
Then, a Zambian woman tried to pull my wrap off of me (I had clothes underneath it) and we had a minor verbal altercation.
Then I messed up my train ticket by sticking some kind of little tag that it required in the wrong place. That caused more aggravation to the group.
Then I was pickpocketed, and lost my camera. Shortly thereafter, my purse disappeared, despite having no recollection of ever having taken it off my arm. And what was in my purse? Just all my cash, credit cards, passport, all identification, and your stack of checks.
Please, somebody, WAKE ME UP!!!
Thankfully, that's all I remember. Unfortunately, I didn't get to meet Fat Patsy, Lovely Catherine or Chief, nor did I get to see any cute (in my opinion) squirrely-mousey things, neat-o moths and birds, nor the pterodactyl. And happily, I was spared the snakes, Mr. Ratty, flies, (living or as spider victims), snakes, bats, flying wormy things (but we have those things here, too, twice a year), the chicken bonanza, and any of a variety of other bush beasts... and did I say snakes? Those, too.
I don't think you'll ever have to worry about me coming to Zambia for a visit! And if you ever come to New Orleans, you already be way ahead of the tolerance curve on mosquitoes, flying roaches and other such vile insects, flying wormy things (which we just call termites), various and sundry rodents, and extreme heat and humidity.
If any of you readers have not checked out, 360° of Zambian Sky, a funny, entertaining, informative and smartly written chronicle of Claypot's bush life (plus an assortment of interesting articles and other web amusements she finds), I highly recommend it. Personally, it's my preferred method of experiencing life in the Zambian bush.
(I see a disclaimer appearing on Claypots blog: The author does not give any warranty or other assurance that bizarre aberrations of the content of this blog will not appear in your dreams and should this happen, disclaims all responsibility for any befuddlement produced as a result.)