Perchance to Dream
He was so angry he could spit!
Those missing three buttons from his shirt - that was the dry cleaner's fault. How dare they refuse (absolutely refuse!) to fix what they broke.
“Our policy,” the new manager explained, “is that the customer has to point out any problems with our service before they leave the store."
“How,” he asked, “is anyone supposed to know that you broke the buttons on their shirt until they take it out the plastic bag to put it on? Do you really expect your customers to unwrap their clothing before they leave store?”
“It says right here on the ticket that you signed . . .”
“I know what the damned ticket says,” he interrupted, “but that’s just idiotic.”
“Well, I am afraid that there is nothing . . .”
He stood abruptly knocking the chair behind him.
‘“I have been a customer in this very store for eight years and for those eight years I have come in twice a week.. If this is how you treat your regular, loyal customers, I guess I need to find another a dry cleaner.”
He turned grabbed his shirt off of the counter and moved to storm out of the shop. He reached down grabbed the handle to the door and opened . . .
. . . his eyes to a darkened room.
To his left he heard the snoring sounds of his sleeping partner. To his right, the clock read 4:00 a.m. and he was hopping mad.
“It was just a dream,” he told himself as he railed against the stupidity of the shopkeep. “Why are you so angry over a dream,” he chuckled to himself trying to soothe his ire.
For the next ten minutes he tossed back and forth trying to set his anger aside so that sleep might return, but the to and fro motion only kept slumber at bay. To stop the tossing, he pressed his back to the mattress and stared at the ceiling, then closed his eyes and took in deep breaths to open the door to Nod.
“One,” he counted. “Two, Three . . .”
Visions of mathematical formula began to dance in his head.
“Stop!” He silently yelled to himself. “Do not think about work!”
He closed his eyes again.
“I wonder what would happen if I took that character in my new book to . . .”
“Stoooooop!” He shouted in his mind and firmly commanded, “Go . . . to . . . sleep!”
Again his eyes closed.
“How funny,” the thought, “The mind commands and the body obeys, but who commands the mind?”
“Oh my God! “ he interrupted his musings. “Would just go back to sleep already!”
Again, he shut his eyes tight and took in more deep breaths to calm his body and mind until he felt the pressure on his bladder begin to build.
“Great. Now, I have to pee.”
He rose from the bed and shuffled to the bathroom. When he returned to the bed he looked down to the covers and then to the clock which read 4:45.
“I give up,” he whispered to no one in particular.
He turned, left his bedroom, and quietly shut the door behind him.