I quit smoking this morning. Basically, after 9+ years of smoking, I finally decided enough was enough. Every cigarette I smoked, and I smoked about a pack and half a day, tasted like trash and made me feel like trash, but I’m a nicotine addict. So I asked my girlfriend to buy me “the patch” for Christmas, and she did. I was going to wait until the first of the new year to start the program, but I honestly thought I’d be dead by then, as the anxiety of a set date made me smoke even more. So after getting home from work this morning, I said to myself, “Just do it today.”
After a nice long shower and some relaxation, I applied the patch as directed to a hairless section of my body. Being of Latin-Mestizo blood, this was a rather easy task (finding a hairless spot, that is). Immediately, the spot where I placed the patch started to itch insanely so, but after a few minutes the itching subsided, and the welcoming wooziness of a morning cigarette set into my brain. Having errands to run, I didn’t get to sleep as I usually do after a night of work, so I set about my tasks. I didn’t smoke on the long drive before me, and I didn’t smoke after a good brunch after my errands.
Having to attend a meeting later on in the day, I decided to take a nap, as my fatigue caught up to me. Then the Nicoderm CQ Nightmare commenced. It started with my girlfriend dropping me off in my old neighborhood, to pick me up later after her own errands. While on a familiar block from my childhood, I came across an old friend, and we decided to hit a diner for some snacks. This is where it got a little weird.
The diner was located on a section of an avenue where there is no diner, but in the dream I didn’t seem to mind. We took a seat but ordered no food. We were just talking and joking, and I was talking very loudly. Most of the other patrons didn’t seem to mind, and were rather amused by my obnoxiousness. However, there was one Fat Man who didn’t appreciate my loud mouth, and he made it rather clear in his own obnoxious manner. The first two times, I ignored him. I wasn’t looking for a fight. But on his third attempt, I had enough, approached him, and invited him outside. He gave me a stare and said nothing. I bet him one hundred dollars that he couldn’t beat me in a fight, and at the mention of the money, he accepted my challenge.
As we stepped outside the diner, I took off my shirt and quickly rotated my shoulders to warm up, and the fat man quickly conceded before the first punch. As he made his way back into the diner, I yelled behind him that he better have my hundred dollars when I got back inside. Sure enough, he was counting out the bills as I again approached his table. Then it hit me: this fat man was not the Fat Man who insulted me earlier. I quickly apologized for issuing the challenge and told him to put his money away.
At this point, my friend received an emergency call over his radio (he’s a cop) and he had to leave. I couldn’t remember where I parked my car, so he offered to give me a quick ride after I couldn’t make out the gibberish he spoke when giving me directions to where I parked. We jumped in his car and pulled off. When he parked his vehicle, we were still at the diner. That’s when I saw the real Fat Man staring at me from the diner window. Suddenly, I realized that it must’ve been the Fat Man who stole my car!
Again I approached his table to confront him, when he and his female companion left the diner. I didn’t follow the Fat Man because of what I saw crushed into the booth where they were sitting. It was my car! I stood frozen in shock. I didn’t know what to do. I asked my friend Josh to help me pull my car out from under the table. With ease we did so, and that’s when I could see the total damage to my vehicle. Immediately it hit me that I didn’t have the money on hand for the insurance deductible, and I wasn’t even sure if my insurance covered “car crushed into a diner booth”.
I reached for my phone to call the cops, when all of a sudden I recieved a text. At first, the message made absolutely no sense. But after a little thought, I remembered why this had to happen to me, and why the Fat Man hated me – I was a complete loud-mouthed jerkoff in the diner. While I made a few people laugh, most were annoyed by my manner, and meals were disturbed.
If there’s a lesson to be learned by this nicotine-patch-inspired dream, it’s in the title of this entry, and the text that I received from an Unknown Texter:
“God fogs no bar.”
Think about it.