Since the doctor took me off my thyroid hormone in preparation for next week's radioactive-iodine treatment (a precaution to ensure the cancer doesn't return), I have been waking up more frequently during the night, resulting in more remembered dreams. Some of them are pretty funny.
Last night (a couple of days after the delivery of my new cell phone), I dreamed my new life-size Terminator doll was delivered—the latest model.
I thought it would be smart to have my previous model calibrate this new one, to make sure its settings were correct so it wouldn't start gunning things down as soon as it was unwrapped. So, without removing it from its giant shrink-wrapped display box, I stood the new model up in my coat closet until the previous model came home from work.
The previous model arrived immediately thereafter, walking with an even more comically robotic gait than usual—bowlegged, in fact, because its summer-casual dress included flip-flops made for the life-size Malibu Ken. I guess even in dreams, life-size Terminators like West Coast style, though they look pretty goofy in it.
Then my real-life phone rang—or maybe, in my light sleep, I confused its ring with my neighbor's, as no one was on the other end when I picked up.