Dream a Little Dream...of Rock Chef?
I dreamed it was Christmas - maybe not Christmas day, but that couple of days after where it's still festive and you don't have to be back to work yet.
I was at my grandma and grandpa's house in a teeny little town not far from my parents house. The husband wasn't there and about three quarters of the rest of my family were missing too, but we were celebrating anyways.
After supper I went to lay down on the couch to try to sleep off some of the junk I'd been eating when there was a knock on the back door. My grandma Annie went to answer it and I heard her talking to a man. Odd - I thought I heard an English accent. Ah well, I closed my eyes anyways until I heard someone standing over me saying "Ali?" in that same voice.
"Yeah?" I asked as I flicked my eyes open.
"It's me, Rock Chef!"
I stared at him blankly for a second and then jumped off the couch and started shrieking, asking him why he was there and how he got here from England so quickly.
Apparently he and I had been talking via email that day and had some sort of argument, so he hopped a plane to Canada to explain his side of things. Never mind that my grandparents live in the boondocks of Ontario and the closest major airport was 4 hours away.
I don't remember what we were arguing about, but I remember my mom and grandma fussing over him and making him a big plate of food. My grandpa just kept smiling and nodding while I tried to explain that I met John over the internet, and that we both had blogs. He had no idea what I was talking about.
After John was finished eating he asked me if he could lay on the couch, having traveled so far to explain things to me, he was very tired. (Apparently somehow through him eating turkey and cabbage rolls we telepathically worked out our little issue - who knows.)
So he laid down on the couch and my grandma covered him with a blanket. My mom walked out with the camera and asked if she could take a picture of the two of us together since she had never met a real "English person" before. (I promise, my family is very well educated in real life, and half of them have been to England for god's sake!)
John asked me if I could just come sit on the couch beside him because he was so tired he couldn't possibly sit up for a photo. I was a little cranky at this, but my mom was all gob-smacked by his accent and told me to quit being so snotty and to go sit beside him so he could rest.
Next thing I know I'm waking up on the other couch, and I can hear my mom and grandma talking to John, telling him he was just the sweetest man for coming over to explain things, and that sometimes I'm too dramatic for my own good (that's family for ya).
So I jumped up to find out what was going on and met John in the hall, all dressed to head out into the snow and head off in his rental van - which was a hideous teal Pontiac Trans Sport van with bald tires.
He explained to me that he had a dental appointment he couldn't miss in Atikokan - which is another small Ontario town where I used to go to the dentist - and that he had to be there soon or his plane back to England would leave without him.
I begged him to stay, saying that he could come back to Winnipeg so we could visit and he could meet some of the rest of the gang, but he leaned over, kissed me on the cheek and said Clare was already mad he had come to Canada anyways, plus, he had a cavity.
He left me standing at my grandma's crying.
Now...what do any of you make of that little dream? Sheesh.