I had another weird dream last night. It started out normal enough… but it took a turn.
The extended family of my childhood had all gotten together to have dinner at this seafood restaurant that we were apparently very familiar with. In reality, I did not recognize this place at all. But in the dream, it was obviously a place that our entire family went to on the regular.
We knew the staff. We knew the management. We knew the owners. And they knew us… all of us… by name. Not saying we could get away with whatever we wanted in this joint, but yeah, we could pretty much get away with whatever we wanted. Clearly, this is not reality because, to my knowledge, no one in my family holds this kind of sway over any local eatery.
In the dream, our family was seated. And then we were moved. And then we were moved again. All before we had a chance to even place our drink order. When we were moved yet again, I got angry.
This is also strange (but it’s a dream, so that comes with the territory) because it’s not like I was the head of any part of this family. Like I said above, this was the extended family of my childhood, including my father and grandparents. In the dream, I was an adult, but I wasn’t the adult, if that makes sense.
But I’m the one who demanded to see the manager. I was told not to. Our waitress even tried to stop me. But I would not be stopped. I marched right back to the manager’s office and pounded on the door.
And here’s where it takes a strange turn…
Are you familiar with the DC Comics character, Lobo? He’s this alien bounty hunter who rides this enormous space motorcycle and whose weapon of choice is this gigantic hook attached to a chain that (I think) is wrapped around his arm. Clearly, I’m super familiar with him.
Mostly I know of Lobo because he would occasionally come to earth to pick a fight with Superman.
Anyway… Lobo was the manager on duty that night. And I knew this. I was warned that he wasn’t in a good mood. Which, if memory serves, he never is. Which generally leads to someone’s violent death. But I wasn’t exactly in a good mood myself. I may not have any super powers or a gigantic hook and chain to carry into battle, but I was going to be heard.
I’m pounding on the door, practically trying to break the thing down. And then it does break down. Lobo’s sitting at his desk, teeth chomped down on a cigar, and he looks legitimately stressed out. Like he just found out that the restaurant is about to be closed on his watch. He just looks up at me and says, “I really don’t have time for this, Aaron.”
See… they all knew us by name.
“Well, you’re gonna make time!” How’s that for a response? Then I launched into a tirade about how we’d been there for however long we’d been there and we’d been moved four times and I’m throwing in some choice cuss words here and there.
He stood up slowly. Pretty sure he was about eight feet tall. He lets the hook hang down by his side. He says, “You really don’t want to do this right now.”
I didn’t back down, though. I just looked up at him, every bit of my five foot six frame, and I said, “Try me.”
That dude went off! But, surprisingly, he didn’t attack me. He just started trashing his office, like he was Kylo Ren who just got some bad news about a misplaced droid. Lobo was swinging that hook around and just obliterating everything in sight, but purposefully avoiding me.
Then I woke up. Never did tell the waitress what I wanted to drink.
I’ve gotten to thinking about this dream, though. A guy like Lobo being stuck as a restaurant manager might be kind of funny. And I’m guessing that’s really how a guy like that would deal with disgruntled customers. Actually, no, I think the reality of a comic book story following this plot line would end a lot more violently. And I don’t mean violence against office furnishings.
But, hey, I’ve been there. I’ve worked customer service. It’s not easy. And in my banking days (not that I was ever a manager), I definitely felt that urge to smash things with a giant hook and chain.