Last night’s dream took a while to get going, but it ended in a classic BFST way.

I am sitting in the back seat of a van in the driveway of my childhood home in Yakima with my two estranged stepsisters and one’s husband, drinking a concoction that the younger stepsister made from lemonade, vodka and whiskey or something.  We are sitting and talking awkwardly, and the husband calls me by a different name, so I say automatically, “You mean Todd.”  He gives me a little laugh and shrugs it off.   I set down my mostly full glass, stand up, climb out of the van, and walk across the front yard into the house.

As soon as I get inside, the dream’s location changes to that of a busy office setting.  I duck into the bathroom, pull down my pants, and start to. . .um. . .go Number Two.  As I’m doing that, the door starts to open.  It’s C, one of my real-life friends, so I tell him, “Hey, I’ll be out in a second.”  I reach over to lock the door, but the lock is broken.  I stand by the door, pants down, and try to  maneuver the door into position in such a way that it will latch and lock.  C says, “Oh yeah, I think they said something about the lock being messed up.  Here let me just [he opens the door enough to reach through] try and jimmy it.”

I say, “Just. . .hang on.  I’ll be done pretty quick.  Let me finish up in here first.”  C ignores me and continues to fidget with the door.  Pretty soon, there are five or six people walking around in the large bathroom, which turns out to be sort of a hallway that leads elsewhere in the building; a very high-traffic area normally.  I tug at my pants and tell everyone that I’m almost done, and that they should be patient for just another minute.  I finally get them corralled out the door, when a co-worker of mine runs into the room, smiling mischievously, knowing that she’s consciously disturbing me.

I make a sort of growling noise under my breath, and she asks, “What?”  She has her hand over her mouth, and is clearly trying not to laugh, which makes me totally furious.

I can’t contain my anger anymore.  “I’M WIPING MY ASS, EVERYONE,” I say loudly and exasperatedly.  “GO AWAY.”

She runs out the door, and I wake up, laughing at another crazy ending to another crazy dream.