Don’t you hate it when this happens?

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You’re at work and all of a sudden your smart phone starts screaming at you. Screaming. Loud, brash noise, static amped to 11, and your fingers are racing around the damn thing trying to figure out what’s wrong. Is it a low battery? No. Has your son installed some sort of demonic app? No. Ring tone from hell? No.

Is it, most unfortunately, the new Geiger counter app you recently purchased? Apparently so.

And now as you race away from where you were, the counter starts to calm down: dull roar, insistent mutter, and finally a sedate click, click, click-click, click; and you’re wondering exactly how long you stood in that spot where the counts were so stratospheric your smart phone’s speakers nearly melted, and whether you’re now merely sterile, or will you die of cancer within the year, or will your colon melt over the next 36 hours?

The doctor’s no good. He’s misread your chart, which is evident from the first words out of his mouth, “Sorry to tell you this, but the cancer has come back.” Kind of hard to do when you haven’t had cancer in the first place. Employee Health ain’t much better. You didn’t work in an area known for its radiation levels (except of course you DID) so you were never given a badge.

Your boss is smarmy and well practiced in denial. He’s been doing it to the press all afternoon, and now it’s your turn, and before you get a chance to rip out his throat, you effing wake up.

As I’ve said many times, my subconscious is out to get me.

Walnut, May 23, 2011. Category: Dreams.