Pharmaceutical Stalk

BambooA common practice of mine is to make a large pitcher of Crystal Light. Today I am at the pharmacy preparing my brew of Crystal Light.  I have a 5 gallon pitcher.  Questionable sanitation has been on my mind so I decide to throw in a small amount no more than a couple teaspoons full of nail polish and bleach to improve the water quality into my 5 gallon brew.  Diluted I don’t think it would kill me. The pharmacy has a bathroom that adjoins it.  They have my wrong identity (address).  Thet tell me the correct address which matches my Rx is 1228 not 1328. For a moment I become lucid to wonder with myself, could I even remember where you lived if you were in a dream?


My only possessions in this realm are a bicycle and my winter coat. The bicycle would be cheaper to ship to Los Angeles if it had no wheels.  In conversing with the pharmacist he tells me there are no CVS’s in Los Angeles but I vaguely remember there was one somewhere.  I’ll just have to find it when I get there.  It used to be so easy to call in a prescription while I lived in DC.  LA’s dispensation of drugs is the old fashioned way by last names not by Rx numbers.  The Oriental man at the pharmacy counter is cruising my friend who is sitting in the waiting area waiting for me to complete my transaction. I suspect he is looking for an opportunity to be alone at the counter with him. 

The pharmacist goes to the back to process my refill request.  In the meantime, I step into the men’s room to relieve myself.  As I walk in I notice there is a door which has been left wide open between the enclosed side of the pharmacy (behind the counter) and the men’s room.   

A female staff member of the pharmacy is going on a 20 min lunch break.  As she leaves, she pokes her head in to tell me she’ll be right back.  This message comes while I’m standing at the urinal with my zipper down.  She is standing on the customer side of the counter.  Why did she feel the need to tell me this?  Her message is traversing 3 distinct regions, Customer area, Pharmacy Staff area and Adjoining Men’s Room.  I turn to acknowledge her and glance at a shinny penny on the floor next to the pharmacy cash register.  She can’t see it because she is on the other side of the counter…whereas I have a clear line of sight with the penny.  Can I cross the line and take it a as a sign that my friend will now have a private moment to meet with the Oriental Pharmacist “alone.” If I reach in across the line of separation to grab the penny would it be stealing?  Pennies are after all intended to be my sign from above that everything is on track. 


Bamboo shoots with beautiful ornate leaves are growing in the bathroom through cracks in the floor.  They are even growing out of the trash bins. These weeds are springing forth from every nook and cranny.  It gives the appearance that this décor is intentional but I know they are weeds of neglect and not some Oriental theme.  The bamboo show signs of having been pruned before but that only strengthens the stalk. 


I turn full circle thinking again, why would they have left the door between the Pharmacy and the Men’s Room open? 


When I do finally arrive home in Los Angeles, if it had not been for my dealing with the pharmacy I would not have known my address because I apparently can’t remember my address while in a dream.  Upon arrival the car leaves me on the street in close vicinity to my given address. Both addresses 1228 and 1328 are right next to each other side by side.  They both look identical but from having just been to the pharmacy where I found the penny I know my home address is a 2 not a 3.  It is the penny that assures my return home.

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