They say your dreams reveal your inner self

Potrzebie

I'm not sure if this fact should worry me or not.

I don't always remember my dreams, but I remember dreaming last night that I lost my hat. Now if you know me, you know this is not necessarily unusual. "Do what you do best," that's what I say, and I excel at forgetting where I put things. When I forget that I put them under my seat at Safeco Field until two days later, or that I put them on the bus that just left, that's when things get dicey.

Anyway, last night I dreamt I left one of my baseball caps at the movies. This was a bit unusual in that I left it at a theater in Redmond, and I think the only theater I've ever been to in Redmond was the Bella Botega multiplex, and that only once. So why I dreamed I left it at a theater in Redmond, I don't know. But then, this is a dream.

So, I'm on the bus to go get my hat, and oddly enough, I'm heading across the 520 bridge, but toward Seattle, away from Redmond. And then things take a turn toward the surreal, because next thing I know I'm in front of a multiplex on North Congress Avenue in Austin, Texas. Now keeping in mind that this is a dream, it's still pretty peculiar because:

• The bus ride from Seattle to Austin would take several days;
• The last time I was in Austin was 14 years ago;
• At that time there were no multiplexes on North Congress Avenue, at least the part I was familiar with (between the Capitol and the river);
• And if someone were to build a multiplex in central Austin, it would not be on North Congress Avenue, which is most likely one of the most expensive pieces of real estate in central Texas.

Anyway, there I was, in one of the back foyers, trying to find a manager to ask about my hat. I was just standing there, minding my own business, when some revelers in what I vaguely remember as Mardi Gras regalia splashed some cold water on me. Up here in Seattle I would have been outraged; down there, I just remember wanting to find a manager after this had happened, but still to ask about the hat. (If you've been in Austin in July you know that a splash of cold water can be a blessing.)

Well, the manager finally shows up. I do a bit of a protest about the water and ask about my hat. She has me follow her down a maze of twisty little passages, all alike . . . and at the end of the maze, she drenches me with ice water.

At that point I woke up and decided to go do something sensible, like work on a router I'm building for my home network.

And the moral of the story, considering that this was all a dream, is probably: A cat can look at a king, but not both. Is it lunchtime yet? Where's my hat?