Juice-buying heebie jeebies

I parked on the street when I got home from my evening out, because I had the intention of running my rent check to my landlord's house and stopping by the store. However, I found that I was very tired. Tired enough to fall asleep awkwardly on the couch. You know, mouth agape. No drool this time, surprisingly.

Well, I woke up just after midnight, remembering that I promised my friend I'd buy some juice for Sunday Conference breakfast. I felt weird about leaving the house. I couldn't figure out if it was because I was tired or if my subconscious was trying to tell me that it was technically the Sabbath Day and the need for juice was no ox-in-the-mire.

I left for the store anyway.

The whole time I was gone, I felt weird inside, like something was wrong or something bad would happen.

When I got home, I parked in my usual spot in the back. As I was pulling in, I noticed that the door of the neighbor's car was open. I was sufficiently creeped. I wasn't sure if I should pull back out. I tried to look in the car to see if the neighbor was in it. I couldn't see anyone.

I sat paralyzed for several seconds trying to decide if it was safe to get out of my car.
Fortunately, there were two women on the porch of the next door neighbor's house. I figured if something went wrong, they'd hear my scream and call the police. Unless of course, they were involved in the crime scheme.

I considered knocking on my neighbor's door, but I figured it'd be safer to go straight inside.
Not sure entirely what to do, I called the Salt Lake City Police non-emergency line. I explained the scene and told them my car had been broken into last week. They sent a patrolman to check it out.
I heard the officer knock on the neighbor's door and ask him about his car. The neighbor sounded panicked and went out to his car. A few moments later, he returned to his apartment and closed the door, and the officer left. I assume that means that nothing was stolen.

I am trying to tell myself that it was simply an error on the part of the neighbor. He left his car door open on accident.

But, of course, I've watched enough crime dramas to imagine otherwise.

Now, my mind is imagining that someone was breaking into my neighbor's car. The deviant saw my headlights pulling in and hid behind one of the open carport storage doors beside the abandoned bbq grill or in one of the empty storage rooms. Fortunately, this deviant is non-violent, non-confrontational, so he/she waited for me to go inside and then left non-chalant, with the two women being unphased by his/her exit. (My short haircut made it impossible for them to know if driver of the vehicle that had just pulled in was a girl or boy. So the deviant could've been either sex and the women would've assumed that he/she was the car driver walking out of the alley.)

So, my conclusion. I am a hero. I stopped a burglary in action. My neighbor will never truly understand how blessed he is that I kept his vehicle from being robbed, stolen, or vandalized.
But my hero status doesn't make me any less scared. I wonder if Batman was scared every time he was involved in stopping a crime or remedying criminal action but followed through anyway because he's a hero and that's the expectation.

Thanks for listening (reading would be more appropriate unless you use a text reader and have the computer software read you all your internet text). This exercise helped me type out my fear and return to my sleepy state. Keep yourself safe this weekend, because this hero hasn't honed all of her superhuman skills yet. I don't know if I can do much beyond startle a would-be thief with my timing.

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

I have been having all sorts of life-like dreams lately.  That's how I usually dream.  I don't dream the bizarre.  I dream things that actually could happen.  And the stars of my dreams are the people who I interact with regularly.

Last night, I dreamed I met the guy of my dreams.  He was everything I've ever wanted (and many things I never knew I wanted).  We hit it off immediately.  I was totally into him.  He was totally into me.  The evening was progressing quite well.
My friend, Jared, happened to stop by. 
Jared and I have been friends for a little over a year.  He is one of my favorite people to talk with.  We can talk for hours.  And hours.  And hours.  He and my roommate used to spend a lot of time together and so often, he'd be at my house when I'd come home at night.  One of my favorite conversations occurred one night when I came home to a pitch black house.  (Supposedly they heard me pull up and turned off the tv to scare me.  Sure, I believe it.)  I followed my usual routine of getting a drink of water, never turning on the lights.  And then my roommate said my name.  Having seen Jared's Jeep out front, I greeted them both.  Jared and I started talking right there in the dark.  I don't remember what we talked about, but I remember it being a great conversation.  For several hours.  In the dark.  Needless to say, with all this conversing, Jared and I have formed a very solid bond.  We have talked each other through some challenging life experiences and have spent many a good hour out and about enjoying life.
Back to my dream.
Sometime during the evening, Jared got really sick.  I mean really sick.  The kind of sick that he needed the care and attention of someone else to endure this sickness.  I began tending to Jared's needs and almost entirely ignoring my dream guy.
Well, a dream guy can't be perfect.  This guy possessed some jealousy issues and maybe lacked some confidence.  Upon seeing the intimacy in the way I cared for Jared (being able to anticipate his needs and communicate with him without talking much), my dream guy assumed this meant that I was secretly and madly in love with Jared.  My dream guy abruptly left before we could naturally end the evening and before I could seal my fate (you know, by securing future dates and such).
Once I realized this, I got Jared taken care of well enough that I could dash out the door.  Of course, I was barefoot and there was snow on the ground.  (Because of my real-life distaste for snow, I think snow in my dreams symbolizes when something has gone awry.)  I ran as far as I could before my feet couldn't stand it.  I ran back and grabbed some shoes.  Of course the only shoes I could find were heels.  That didn't make for a quick journey in the snow.  He was already gone.
Now, I have to somehow convince the man of my dreams (literally and figuratively) that my compassion represented true charity and not passionate romantic love for Jared.  But I'm not worried.  If anyone can convince anyone of something, it's Jared.  (Most of the conversations I had with him were essentially debates.)  Jared will just convince my dream man that these actions speak volumes of my character and the kind of love he can anticipate throughout our relationship.

Too bad it was all just a dream.

I also dreamed last night that I was hiking in Zion National Park when an earthquake struck.  The roads were destroyed or covered in rocks, so my friends and I had to hike out of the park.  And for some reason, I was wearing Converse sneakers.  Not sound hiking shoes.

I probably shouldn't have gone to bed with sore feet last night.

I'm thankful for 911

Weird. Weird. Weird. I hope one day my brain will recover.

I went to the movies tonight with Eliza and my sister, Casey. Never would I have imagined the way my night ended.
We left the theater ten minutes after eleven. We were at the cheap theater and got out of the latest show, so there were only about six cars in the parking lot. The car parked next to us had a few running lights on, so I assumed that someone had used their keyless entry to unlock it from across the lot. However, there was no one walking in the same direction as us.
I walked around to the passenger side of the truck away from the car. Eliza said in a very light-hearted tone, "Do you think that kid's dead?"
(You read it right. This story is going to be crazy!)
What kid? I hadn't seen anyone in the vehicle. I got out of the truck with Casey behind me. There was a young man in the driver's seat slumped over with his head lowered on the passenger's side. We waited a moment thinking that he must just be looking for something. Yet he didn't move at all.
Casey, which coincidentally means Brave, practiced courage as she walked over to the passenger window and starting knocking. She knocked and knocked and knocked. After the fourth or fifth time of knocking without a response, I suggested we call 911.
After a short moment, Casey knocked again. Finally, the kid slowly sat up. He never looked in her direction. He started rubbing his face the whole while she stood in the passenger window. He started nodding as one does when extremely tired.
She knocked again. He sat up slowly again touching his face with his hands. Still he did not look in her direction or notice that Eliza and I were also staring into his vehicle.
Casey walked around to the driver's side. He must've had his window down as she immediately began asking him questions. Again, he wouldn't look at her. That was when I called 911.
Casey asked him over and over again, "Are you waiting for someone? Did you just fall asleep in your car? Are you okay? Do you need help?"
He never looked at her and she said he never enunciated a clear response.
As I spoke with dispatcher, he sat there with an absent look and a lifeless body. Casey finally came around to the passenger side of Eliza's truck.
Shortly after I walked to the back of the truck to get his car make/model and license number, he started revving his engine. I told the dispatcher that if he could get the vehicle in gear, then he would likely start driving.
All the while, I wondered why we didn't have an emergency response vehicle yet on the scene. I pass numerous cops every night. Where were they now when I needed them?
He finally put his car into reverse. He backed up about four feet and then stopped. In the mean time, I had passed the phone to Casey so she could tell the dispatcher if she saw any paraphernalia or smelled anything strange.
As she explained that there was no physical evidence of drug or alcohol use, he managed to put the car in drive. He drove right over the cement curb. He swerved to miss another cement divide and then stopped.
He stayed there for about ten seconds, then he started driving again. He stopped. He stayed there for a moment.
Still there was no police car on scene.
When he started driving toward the light to get onto the main road, Eliza had us pull our doors closed and she started following him.
He very slowly rolled into the main road and turned right. Fortunately, the car in his lane was attentive enough to slow down and move out of the way.
Finally, a police car pulled in behind him. Two other cops were right behind.
We came around the corner to find the car successfully pulled over in a business parking lot. We pulled in as per the request of the dispatcher. An officer came to our window and we explained that we had called in the incident. He had us fill out witness sheets.
It was very evident that this boy was looped out on something. Watching the search process and sobriety tests, it was obvious that he was not coherent. The only way I know how to describe him in the car and standing with the cops is to say that he looked like a zombie or a body without a spirit.
The officer that took our statements didn't give us much detail but told us that prescription medication was found in his car. Likely, he overdosed.
The officer told us thank you a few separate times as this boy could have killed someone tonight had he tried to drive farther.

This leads me to the gratitude section.
I'm thankful for
1. Eliza and her dad's truck. Had we gone to the movies in her tiny car, none of us would have seen the boy. Because Eliza had to climb up into the tall beast, she was able to see right into his car. I'm also glad she said something, even in jest. She explained that she said it that way hoping that it would really be a joke and that he'd sit up and catch her looking in his car.
2. Casey's courage. I hope I would have been able to knock on the window and attempt to talk to the boy like Casey did. Anything could have happened, so it took much courage for Casey to do what she did.
3. 911 and cell phones. I don't know what we would've done had we had to handle this on our own. Also, I'm glad we didn't have to leave the scene to get to a phone. Who knows what would have happened.
4. Nice police officers. The officer who took our statement was so very kind. I know I'm in good hands with kind and knowledgeable officers like him.

Read Eliza's take on the evening.