The Big City Hotel Okay, I must admit this dream was a little weird, and I don't know what to make of it. However, it was very vivid and real, and soon after I woke up I wrote it down before I forgot the details. In the dream I was driving to New York City with my daughter Jennifer. This was weird right off, because having been raised in a small upstate town I would have had my head examined before I drove to The City! Anyway, we needed a place to spend the night. There was a reasonably-priced hotel nearby, so I stopped in front of it and a manager came out of the lobby to greet me and Jennifer. The odd thing is, he resembled Yassur Arafat, complete with military uniform and a black and white checkered [i]keffiyyeh[/i] on his head. He welcomed us to the hotel and offered to take our suitcase to the lobby for us. It was a large suitcase which Jennifer and I shared.
Then he came back out to the car and said there was no vacancy in the hotel. He apologized and put the suitcase back into the car. One problem--it was not my suitcase. It was a smaller, battered one. "Excuse me," I said, "but this is not my suitcase." "Yes it is," he replied in a Middle East accent. "Look," I huffed in exasperation, "I know my suitcase and this is not mine. Don't take me for an idiot!" "It is yours," he said with finality. I shouted in Arabic, "Ana bahib al-haka'ibby!" "I want my suitcase!" "Thak al-haka'ibbik!" he replied. "That's your suitcase." In a fury I stormed into the hotel and found my suitcase in the lobby. The guy was not there, but I was satisfied that I had gotten my own suitcase back and went out to the car again. I threw his crappy luggage out of the car and put mine in its place. "Now," I said to Jennifer, "let's get out of here and find a good place to stay." I turned the ignition key. There was no response except for a click. I tried it again. Click-click-click. I folded my arms and lay my head against the steering wheel. "He stole my starter!" I wailed. At this point I knew the dream was not going well, so somehow I managed to wake myself. Usually I have very pleasant, entertaining dreams. But when they start becoming uncomfortable that is the time to get out while the getting is good! And why I managed to dream in Arabic is beyond me!
