Creepy dreams..

This blog will (not so boldly) go where no blog has gone before. I’m unsure about publishing this, so if you get to read it, then it turned out as “publishable”.

As an avid reader you will no doubt recall that I have been riding my bike for the last month as part of a Tour De France challenge.  The tour and the challenge are over and so is the getting up at 5:51 am to go ride. I have set my alarm the last two morning, but turned it off and gone back to sleep.  This morning after turning off the alarm, I went back to sleep and experienced a creepy dream. Hopefully by writing it down, I can figure out what it means. And no, I don’t usually remember my dreams.

A bit a background to make the dream “make sense”.  My first real job back in the day was working in a wholesale seafood company as a truck driver (in North Jersey).  After two years I was in charge of production at the business until I left for a different job after 5.5 years of employment. My next reasonably long-term job was in the wholesale fish market in Philadelphia where I worked for 13 years. I met quite a few characters in the fish market being that the work hours were from 3 am to noon time five days a week.  I went to computer school after 13 years of the fish market and left the seafood industry in 2002.

Fast forward to the dream..

The setting was the fish business in North Jersey. I had been “away’ from the company for a while (years?).  My job that morning was to go into NYC with the market truck and get the fish for the day. The dream starts with me pulling into the yard at work with the truck loaded with fish. I walked into the back of the business and met one of the owners of the Philadelphia fish market where I had worked. He told me he was going home early and that I was in charge. Then he took me outside and pointed out the fleet of blue vans in the yard and said that work would be slow and that we should use the vans for deliveries that day.  (Have I lost you yet?)

Back inside I go for a walk through the building to see what is there since I had not been in the building for many years. As I am walking from one section to another I notice that I am not wearing shoes. I am barefoot on the cold, wet, slimy floor. Hmm, I notice this and wonder where my shoes are. (A self-aware dream?)

I walked into the fresh crabmeat cooler and see the guy who ran the crabmeat cooler in Philadelphia, working at the fish business in North Jersey.  I picked up a can of fresh crabmeat looking for something “nice” to sample. I pulled the top off the container and it contained a nail clipper, some screws, nuts and bolts and underneath that, crabmeat. I did not tastes it since the metal objects were in the can. The guy working there said they were ‘samples”. The next package I picked up was a combination of fresh mozzarella and fresh crabmeat.  In one package. The pieces of crabmeat were big, pinkish red in color (should be white), but they tasted good.

I walked back out to the production area to watch the owner of the business walk by without acknowledging my presence. I looked down and now I had socks (not sure of the color, maybe white) and flip-flops. Standing next to me where three guys looking to buy fish. We rarely had walk up customers in North Jersey but always had them in Philadelphia. As I was looking to write down their order I could not find a pencil, pen or paper. What I found was stubs of pencils, pieces if pens, damp paper and a fine-line highlighter that did not write too well. (Pretty realistic)

I slid open the window to the billing office to ask for a pen, paper and a price sheet and the guy in the office was also a former employee from Philadelphia. I said hello since we had not seen each other in years and put my hand out to shake his hand. He stuck out his hand, the hand shake was awkward, limp-wristed and not really sincere (from his side). I told him to shake my hand like a man, and he did.

So, no price lists were available, no paper or pens to share.  Just get the work down. I turned back to the customers and one of them was holding a bag with salmon in it. He said I have three salmon that weigh 27.1 lbs. I took the broken pencil and started the order: 8/10 salmon – 27.1 lbs.  Looked at the paper and the writing was bad. Tight, small block letters like a really old person who was having trouble with arthritis might write. This was disturbing since I had written the words. My handwriting isn’t the best, but it certainly is legible.

They also wanted some flounder fillets and some frozen shrimp.  I went over to the production table where there were tubs of various fish fillets waiting to be packed. The flounder fillet was a little past its prime. I flipped a piece over and smelled it. Fair, saleable but not something I would take home to my family. I wrapped up their 5 lbs of flounder and returned to the order table where I was writing up their order. They open the package and decided they did not want the flounder after all.  The customers that I was working with were a composite of several frequent customers during my days in Philadelphia.

Then I woke up, glad to be in my bed, not back in North Jersey in the fish business.

What does it all mean? I don’t know. It was just so vivid. I can still see some of the scenes in my head almost 6 hours later.

No pictures (just in my head)