Yes, other people's dreams are a chore to read. But this is the only time I've awoken from a dream laughing out loud.
I'm working for an odd company. Some kind of warehouse or something. I open the place early by myself. It occurs to me that I could steal two bags of money from the office in the back room. Before anyone else shows up. So I do steal two bags of money from the safe.
I tip-toe up a flight of wooden stairs to hide my stash in the employee's lounge. I stuff the two bags beneath the cushion of a sofa. Just then, other employees arrive and begin filling up the lounge. I start sweating.
I come up with a scheme to distract everyone -- especially the boss -- from discovering the money bags beneath the sofa cushion. I grab two young Asian men (co-workers) and present them with purple suede Wild, Wild West costumes, with gun belts and neat hats. They are astonished but pleased and put on the outfits quickly. I now make them sit down close together on the sofa cushion, which is concealing my money bags. Cool. No one will discover my stash with these two guys in purple suede Wild, Wild West outfits sitting so close together on the cushion.
The boss wanders out of the room. He'll be back shortly. The other employees are sitting in chairs, casually talking and sipping coffee. Now is my chance to retrieve the money bags. To return them to the safe before I'm discovered.
I jump up from my chair and address the two purple Asian cowboys: "I just heard on the radio that there is a tornado in Kansas. Go save us all!" They spring up from the sofa and dash off. I lunge for the sofa, remove the cushion, and grab the two money bags. I then tip-toe back down the wooden staircase. Back down on the concrete floor now, I drop the bags in a dark corner. (Somehow, this seems an appropriate substitute for the safe.) I pull on a long hanging chain and open the large garage-style warehouse door. To let in all the newly arriving co-workers.
A while later, I end up in a different part of the workplace -- a sort of hectic, semi-retail environment. Apparently, I am some kind of department manager, though I haven't a clue what I'm supposed to be doing. I stroll absentmindedly among co-workers and customers. Just then, a female Assistant Manager says, "Hey, Tim. It's so-and-so's mother on the phone. Wouldn't you like to say hi?" I have no idea who so-and-so is but take the odd company cell phone anyway.
This phone is shaped like the face of so-and-so's mother, with nose projecting. She is a blond woman in her mid-forties. The back of her little head -- the back of the cell phone -- bevels gently for easy grasping. I hold her blond-haired, phone-face out in front of me and speak into it: "Hello..."
"Hi, Tim," she replies. "It's nice to meet you."
The Assistant Manager grabs the face-phone from my hand and says, "Actually, Tim, she is sitting in the boss's office right now. Why don't you go talk to her in person?"
I take the few steps over to the the boss's office and enter. I sit down in a chair in front of the sitting blond woman. I think the boss is sitting at his desk, but I'm not sure about that.
I look at the blond woman for a few seconds and then announce: "I will cook something for you."
"What would you cook," she asks, smiling.
"Roast ouch," I reply in a deadpan.
She looks directly at me for a long time, then explodes into gasping laughter.
I continue: "And with a side-dish of barbecued inch worms. Crun...chy!"
She stands up. Speechless with choking laughter. She is almost angry to have been so unexpectedly confronted with this hilarious menu. She keeps laughing incoherently.
She runs from the office. A few moments later, I see her through the office window. She is out in the parking lot. She jumps into her little red Corvette and guns the engine. She peals out, burning rubber. And then does one hysterical doughnut after another.
I wake up. This is all true, every detail.