I came home from work and--because I've been in a sleep deficit the last couple of days and look like the proverbial "hot mess"--took a nap. I slept deeply.
I'm meeting Jenny for dinner in a little while, and in my dream I was taking a cab to her house for some reason. (She lives about a block away.)
My cab driver drove all around the city, turning down random streets and alleys. For the first few minutes I wasn't paying attention, and I suddenly I looked out the window and realized we were nowhere near where I wanted to go. "Where are we?" I asked the driver. "And where are you taking me?"
Without looking at the road, he repeated Jenny's address I had given him. "You're certainly taking the long way," I told him.
"We'll get there," he answered.
I was frustrated and impatient, and said, "But I basically needed to go across the street. How did we get all the way out here?"
"Then why are you taking a cab?" he asked. "You're just making it more difficult."
He ended up dropping me off at Jenny's nearly two hours late and she was no longer at home. I had been trying to call her to tell her what was going on, but couldn't get her. Every time I'd try, the call would get dropped, or my fingers would hit the wrong buttons. Once I successfully connected with her but she couldn't hear me. At one point, as I was hanging up the phone from trying again to call her, a call came through on my phone. I didn't even look at who it was. I assumed that--at long last--I was going to get to talk to Jenny.
Instead, it was a man's voice on the phone. He said, "Hi," very casually; it was obviously someone who knew me. I was confused. I was expecting to hear Jenny's voice. "Who is this?" I asked.
He sounded wounded and said with confusion, "Um, okay..."
I looked at the caller ID, and saw that it was Jacob. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" I cried. I explained to him my confusion and my inability to get in touch with Jenny. He sounded relieved, and then I asked, "Did you get the email I sent you?" He obviously didn't hear me, and said something completely unrelated. "Jacob," I interrupted.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Did you get the email I sent you?" I repeated. "It's really important." Again, it seemed he hadn't heard me and said something unrelated to my question. "Jacob!" I cried desperately.
"What?" he asked.
"Can't you hear me?"
"Only some of the time," he answered. "You're breaking up a little bit."
I asked again. "Did you get the email I sent you? It's so important. Please read it. Okay? You have to read it."
"Are you talking?" he asked. "I can't hear what you're saying." I took the phone away from my ear and moaned in aggravation and frustration. I was walking down the sidewalk at the time, and other passersby looked at me in alarm. I had the strong sense that time was of the essence, and I was running out of it. I couldn't get where I was trying to go; I couldn't make myself understood.