the timboucher experience

So after I woke up and checked my email this morning, I went back to sleep for a while, cause I was unusually tired. I ended up having this really long involved dream. In the dream, my parents owned and ran a religious bookstore, which I somehow worked at, but also lived in the back room of. I was very unhappy about this arrangement and made sure it showed in my working at the store. So anyway, this one girl comes in looking for candles or something of that sort. I’m basically unhelpful and brush her off and go do something else, continuing to be mad about the whole situation. Then she comes over and takes me aside and tells me how I’m being an asshole and stuff, and that’s when I start to like her. Then she ends up staying and hanging out at the store with me for like several hours until it gets dark. She has tattoos of flowers on covering big sections of her chest and back (she had a tank-top on - we didn’t get naked). I tried to identify them, but they were all wildflowers that I didn’t recognize. And then she told me that these particular blue ones on her back where lotuses, which I’ve never really seen before. But looking up blue lotuses online, they were pretty close to this. Anyway, we just talked and layed around on couches and stuff for a really long time. And it’s one of those things where afterwards - I don’t know if anybody else gets this - you think this person that you’re talking to must exist somewhere. Because they were too real and too vital. Although, at the time, I had no idea it was a dream.

Although, just before she left, we went to exchange numbers. I wrote down my phone number, looked at it, and was like “Wait, that’s not my number.” It wasn’t even enough numbers. The first one I wrote down was “410 - 123 - 123,” which is just ridiculous. Then I ended up writing down a 917 (brooklyn) number after that, which also wasn’t mine. I spent like five minutes in this dream getting myself to concentrate really hard and write out very clearly the numbers onto this sheet of paper. In fact, I actually said to her something to the effect of “You know how in a dream, it’s really hard to read or write down numbers? Well, that’s happening to me right now.” But I wasn’t tipped off by that, of course.

So right, and then her little slip of paper she handed me said, keeping with confusing written words, “Amandatana Christie Etienne” (or else it was spelled Amanditana). And I was like, well, which one of these is your name? And she said “All of them.” She also said something cool earlier about how she wanted me in her life, but she wasn’t sure how exactly. And I was like, yeah I can relate to that. In any event, we had kind of a quick couple kisses on the lips, and then she got in her car and drove off, and I woke up. Maybe it all doesn’t sound very weird or remarkable in the telling, but it definitely was.

Looking on Google, there’s no results for the odd spelling of “Amanda” but the name Amanda Christie belonds to somebody who writes pulp novels about that tv show, 7th Heaven.

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