Dream

Posted on June 7, 2011 in Dreams

I’m distracted from talking to my mother while playing a video game. I open the front door and find a fit-figured guy wearing a small box over his head. “Chato?” ((Not the Chato I know in real life. It’s funny how I don’t see these things while I am dreaming the dream.)) I ask. Something is wrong here. He’s come all the way around the block to see me. An episode has come over him and he needs help. “We’ve got to do something,” I say to him. “There’s a meeting that is both a DBSA ((Depression Bipolar Support Alliance)) group and a Toastmasters’ Club.” He agrees to go. The club is holding a speech contest. We decide to get dinner first — some egg rolls at a Chinese takeout. As we are going to get them, an Argentinian grabs me by one of my belt loops and begins telling me how I should order my food. I squirm away from him. When I get the food, I realize that I have to tell the people at the Toastmasters’ club that they will have to make a choice: they aren’t doing much to help people with bipolar disorder, just using the affiliation to attract members. I think I can tell them nicely that this has to stop.