That's Not A Bus

I had an interesting thought while I was lying and trying to sleep, so it's good that I have been keeping a legal pad and pencil there by the bed. I'd had a dream where some people drove to me house to pick me up. I wasn't expecting them, and they may have been celebrities or something, because I don't think I really felt that I knew them. It was this weird carpool sort of thing, and I naturally wondered what had made me dream it.

It occurred to me soon enough that it could have been connected to a pair of incidents that occurred before Toastmasters meetings on consecutive weeks. I take the bus to reach those meetings, and it could be a more convenient route that I take. I have to catch a connecting bus, and the stop for that bus lies where a freeway offramp is. It's really the worst intersection at this spot, or at least it would be the worst if bad intersections weren't a local specialty.

I spend around ten or fifteen minutes waiting for that bus, and it hasn't been a problem so far, so I haven't minded it terribly. A curious wrinkle has been thrown in each of the last two weeks. A fellow member of the club has passed the stop in their car, seen me, and stopped to give me a ride the rest of the way. Each time they were somewhat incredulous that I would be there waiting for the bus. I guess I can see it their way.

It's kind of an unnerving thing when a car you don't know honks as it passes and pulls over a short distance away where you can see the driver (not well enough to identify them) waving at you to come over. I approached somewhat cautiously, as if I was a police officer making a traffic stop. Once close enough, I could see it was someone I knew and relaxed. Really, I did appreciate the ride, although even a favor like that is disruptive to my routine and mental state.