Last night I went shopping with Nicole. Upon the request of Haras we looked for, and found a pair of jeans for her. Any one of the female persuasion reading this will know that buying jeans is far from an exact science. Size is nothing but an arbitrary number in the world of denim, and often the ratio of hips-to-thighs fabric leaves you looking like a beluga whale in a panty hose. (Bad metaphor courtesy of Haras) So, needless to say, I was a little concerned with picking out the right size and color. To my amazement when we got home Haras slipped the prized jeans on (they were only $12!) and they fit like a glove that was made out of denim and fashioned for the lower half of you body. They were neither too big (which would imply that I thought we was larger than she is) nor too small (which would imply that she was bigger than I thought she SHOULD be) (that's what we like to call a Lose-Lose-LOSE situation)
But amidst my personal triumph something slowly began to dawn on me. "This has . . . happened . . . before . . ." I slowly stammered out; quiet enough that my com padres couldn't here me over their own elation. "OH MY GOSH!" I shouted. They both turned and looked at me expectantly. I could see the terror in Sarah's eyes as she searched the floor for the most likely (in her mind) cause of my outburst. But the lurking spiders would live one more night in peace, for what I was about to say trumped them all.
"I dreamt this EXACT thing."
I could tell that they were impressed; their blank stares revealing the astonishment that I had known would overpower them. But something was wrong. The stares continued for much longer than they should, they couldn't really be this dense could they?
"I don't think you understand," I continued. "Three years ago I had a dream that for some reason I was buying you jeans, and I was really concerned about getting the right fit and color and everything . . . " A small flicker of recognition showed in their faces and I saw my opportunity to pounce.
"Nicole, you remember! Forever ago when I told you I had a dream that I was on a date with Daryl from home and then two years later I WAS!" Pause for dramatic effect. "IN THE SAME CAR!" More drama. "AT THE SAME INTERSECTION!"
I still couldn't be sure if they grasped what I was telling them, but gradually their countenances changed. By the looks on their faces they were either contemplating the sheer magnitude of what I'd said, or how high the set of costs would be for a small, in home, psychic parlor.
Sarah's final comment summed up what I had suspected all along. "If you ever have a dream about, say, who I'm going to marry . . . be sure and tell me about it."
My response? "Give me a quarter, I read your palm."