The Dream of Discontent

“It was a Friday night.
I just woke up and put on my shoes.”
She was like, “I’m (sorry) but. Who are you again?”
I said, “hh hh excuse,” to myself in front of her.
I was off.
Like a door riding molasses in Boston, I ran out the door.
“Jeez, this is amusingly awful,” I said abruptly.
“That reminds me,” I say out loud, “I should get this hole in my pants hemmed.”
“To the linen store!”
I could feel the wind in my hair. Then in my shirt. Then I flew….like a foot while falling over.
“It was still intense, mind you the uh, the stall…. I didn’t. Ouch.”
“There was no one left.”
“Excuse me, Sir? Did you say something?”
“No, Ma’am. It was just a dream.”
Then I woke up.