“Working Out” the Details

Last night I dreamed that I met a personal trainer. He resembled Jason Momoa only he was more clean cut with neater hair and fewer tattoos.  But his build was very similar – he was HUGE!  Normally I don’t like super-muscular men, but he was very attractive. He started helping me with something and had his arms around me. We started dating.

In the midst of this, there were large locker rooms with rows and rows of showers. There was a debate about whether or not the showers should remain, and I pointed out how many people were using them. I said that women used to just walk around stinky all day but now we have a better option. There were concerns about privacy, but no one really looked at anyone else in the shower. At one point, there was even a man in there, but he was looking down at the ground not at any of the showers.  It was strange that they had clear doors rather than opaque though.

Then we were telling someone (a family member? a team leader?) that he needed to make sure that the other personal trainer didn’t go with us on family vacation again, because this new one would be going. Apparently, we were going to pay him to work out with us. I was talking to another girl/woman and we wondered if this man was actually going to tell the old guy (who looked a lot like my ex husband Jeff) or if he was going to end up paying for both. We said that we have to stop adding things on and start paying things off.

Then “Jason” and I had gone to Honduras.  We were not going to stay for the whole mission trip but we had come to help plan and set up. As the clinics were getting ready to open, we got ready to go back to San Pedro Sula. I realized we didn’t have a ride or any money.  Penny Sisson was standing there so I went to ask her how to get a safe taxi. She was very upset with us and said that it wasn’t ok that we just showed up and put a strain on mission resources.  I told her not to worry, we would take care of it.  I assumed we would be safe because Jason was so big. No one could mess with us really. I figured as we walked, we could hitch a ride on the back of a truck at some point and/or get a taxi in Santa Barbara.

We got to the first city down the mountain and there were several storefronts. I wanted to buy some water but I didn’t have any Honduran limpira. A little boy started walking with us and I recognized him from the village. He took us to a shop where we could exchange $20.  He said I wouldn’t like the $50 note, and when I looked it’s because it had a picture of someone stabbing someone else on it. All of the notes were really big, and I asked him if they had changed. I suspected they might be fake, but I trusted him. That’s when I woke up.

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