This one tops ’em all.  Last night, I had the craziest dream of all times, I’m pretty sure.  Here is my attempt at getting this craziness told:

Some background: I have a wonderful friend named Margaret.  She works as an administrative assistant to a district manager of Starbucks in Cincinnati.  I don’t drink coffee.  My Uncle Randy is a bit round with lots of facial hair.

I was in high school.  I was almost ready for school, so I walked over to where Margaret worked, which was of course near Flying J in Walton–a mere five mile walk.  I walked in and she said she was working but I could hang out until school started.  We realized it was time for school.  She offered to drive me to school.  First, she made a weird turn in an abandoned lot for no apparent reason.  Then, I decided I wanted some milk, so we stopped at a gas station on main street in Walton.  I had two dollars and seventy-six cents.  Margaret gave me a dollar so I’d have enough money, even though I had plenty for a single-serve bottle of milk.  When she gave it to me, she made a sing-song “woooo” sound effect.  We laughed.  The gas station had no milk, so I decided to try some Starbucks bottled coffee which, to my surprise, was about half full of coffee grinds.

I went to the cash register and it rang up for 28 cents; I gave the cashier lady (a plump African American lady with ringlet curls) a quarter and she gave me back a penny.  I got back in the car and Margaret said that it was a good kind of coffee–very delicious.  Then, I realized I had to pee –and I mean REALLY pee–like to the point where I was nervous and a little sweaty… and we were late for school, so we decided to stop somewhere, since I was late, anyway.  I told Margaret that, if we didn’t stop, I wouldn’t make it.  She felt my cold hands and decided I was serious; I said that I felt that I was going to smell all day like a forklift, a word both of us said at the same time.  We stopped at some Walton City building and all of the sudden we were in a forklift which we used to bust through some of the warehouse-style doors to get in.  After getting off the forklift, we acted like I worked there and I was training her for her new job.  I told her to take the cart and deliver the files, that it was pretty self-explanitory.  Everyone else believed us, or at least didn’t pay attention to us.

I quick-stepped down the long hall, looking for a restroom.  The hallway had black cubicle walls on the right and bright, flamboyant offices on the left.  Finally, I found a restroom but decided I’d use a bowl outside of it first, then take my wastes into the restroom.  Then Uncle Randy showed up, just as I had unbuckled my belt and unbuttoned.  He worked there (and looked very different–he was very thin and had no facial hair) and had printed some posters and asked me the best way to phrase a sentance.  I helped him fix the sentence, then decided it’d be better if I used the actual restroom.

Then, I woke up.  And, yes, I was sweaty, really really craving milk, and felt as though I needed to pee.  I drank a fat glass of milk, used the restroom (just a little bit), and went back to sleep.  For about twenty minutes.  Because my alarm sounded.