I Dreamed I Lost My Shoes
I Swear I Do Not Have a Foot Fetish, But So What If I Do?
I dreamed I lost my shoes. What an odd thing to dream about. It began with me driving away from the office for home. Suddenly, I remembered removing my shoes while I was taking a break and I forgot to put them back on. How does one forget to put his shoes on and not notice? In any event, I went back to the office to get my shoes. When I arrived, the building was crowded with people. A seminar of some kind was going on, like they have in a fancy hotel ballroom or convention center. The place was set up with tables and chairs and a stage and microphones and projectors, and all that stuff. Someone whose name tag said “Rosemary” offered to help me find my shoes. She took me to a pile of shoes under a table along a wall, reached into said pile, pulled out a very small shoe and said, “Here’s one, is this yours?” I told her “No, that’s way too small.” Then Rosemary left and it was up to me to find my own darn shoes. I paused for a moment to figure out my next move. Suddenly the lights started flashing and loud music began to play and people began to dance. And, I thought, “Well, that looks like fun.” I started dancing, too. I danced and danced. Then I remembered that I don’t dance. I looked down and saw that my shoes were on my feet.
I dreamed I lost my shoes. I looked high and low for my shoes. I looked all over but I just could not find them. I was sad and down and depressed about not finding my shoes. I decided to go to a bar to drown my sorrows. I saw that just ahead there was a bar called the Sky Club. Their slogan was “Join the Club and Get Sky High!” Or something silly like that. I thought this was as good a place as any to drown my sorrows over my shoe misadventures. I opened the door and as I peered inside, I said to myself, “So this is what a dive looks like.” It was dark, dank, and smelled of beer, urine, and cheap perfume. I thought, “This is exactly where I need to be. This place could not be more depressing. It’s perfect for sorrow drowning.” I went up to the bar and sat on a grimy, fake leather stool and asked the rather large bartender for a Boilermaker. I had no idea what a Boilermaker was, but I must have seen it on TV or something. Then I remembered I don’t drink. I looked down and saw that my shoes were on my feet.
I dreamed I lost my shoes. I knew I could not go around barefoot the rest of my life. I searched everywhere without success. I started feeling anxious and concerned. I needed my shoes. So, it occurred to me that perhaps I should pray on it. Yes. I’ll ask the Lord to help me find my shoes. But, it had been awhile since I prayed and I was a little unsure of the proper procedure. God supposedly is all seeing and all knowing, so, what, I just start talking and he’ll hear me? I thought “Well, maybe I should find a church.” There were lots of churches around but I didn’t know which one to choose. There were big ones, small ones, old ones, and new ones. Why were there so damn many churches? I began to realize that it did not matter which church I chose, I should just pick one and go in and sit down and pray that I find my shoes. Then I remembered that I am an atheist. I looked down and saw that my shoes were on my feet.
I dreamed I lost my shoes. I called my dog, Tex, to help me find them. “Tex, hey Tex, hey come here Tex! Tex! Help me find my shoes, Tex!” He came running over and said, “What is it now?” I explained that I had lost my shoes and I wanted him to help me find them. And he goes, “This is my problem . . . how?” I said, “Aren’t you supposed to be man’s best friend? Well, Friend, I was hoping you would help me out here.” Tex says, “I am man’s best friend, but I am some other man’s best friend, not yours.” What a revolting development. I called out for him again. “Tex! Hey Tex!” Then I remembered that I do not have a dog. I looked down and saw that my shoes were on my feet.
I dreamed I lost my shoes. Good gosh, again? This is getting ridiculous. I wondered what I could do about this embarrassing, recurring problem. How could a grown man continually lose his shoes? I said to myself, “The hell with it. How bad could it be to live without shoes?” Well, it was awful, is how it was. My poor feet were battered and blistered and bruised and in very bad condition. I needed shoes. There was a really old guy in the bunk next to mine and I thought that after he passed out, as he did every night from drinking too much cheap wine, I would take his shoes for myself. My feet hurt so bad and I was a good person, more or less, and I deserved to have shoes, unlike the flatulent, alcoholic old geezer next to me. He wouldn’t even miss them. So I made a plan to take the guy’s shoes. Then I remembered that I may be shoeless, but I wasn’t a thief. I looked down and saw that my shoes were on my feet.
I dreamed I bought a new pair of shoes. I swore I would never, ever lose these shoes. Never, ever. I would wear them everywhere and never take them off. Never, ever. I vowed to wear them to breakfast, to school, to work, to the beach, in the Army, and when I played 3rd base for the Pittsburgh Pirates. I would even wear them in the shower. I got ready for bed and looked down at my feet. My shoes were there, right where they should have been. I pulled down my cozy, handmade quilt and my favorite sheet - the one with the ducks on it. As I was about to get into bed, with my shoes on, of course, I said to myself, “This is silly. Only a crazy person wears his shoes to bed.” Then I remembered that I am an insomniac. I looked down and saw that my shoes were still on my feet. My beautiful, beautiful shoes. I smiled.
