Introvert Nightmares...

I hate those dreams where you get stuck in awkward and uncomfortable situations, like the one where the temp agency mistakenly sent me to be the starting quarterback for an imaginary NFL team... the Smallville Ocelots or Anytown Meerkats or whatever. Then there was the one where I was trapped for an excruciatingly long 20-floor elevator ride with the Obamas, trying to come up with the sort of pleasantly apolitical small talk that one resorts to when one is trapped in a confined space with extroverted strangers.

Last night I dreamed I was in my mid-20s, and I had to go on a road trip to pick up my mom from the hospital and bring her back to my place. And accompanying me on this roadtrip was (also inexplicably young) Tucker Carlson. 

We took Tucker's Karmann Ghia, and I spent hours cooped up in a car with someone whom I was desperate to avoid talking about anything remotely political with. And then of course there's the return leg of the trip with mom crammed in the car with us and now I have to worry about her saying something political too.

I'd rather have spent sixty floors in an elevator with Barry and Michelle. Lordy that was an excruciating nightmare.