I Dream of Target



Some months ago I’d dreamt I started working at Target. I don’t recall much about it other than I walked around all day doing very little while wearing a red vest. At the end of the day somebody noticed I wasn’t wearing my name tag. I hadn’t worn one all day because I didn’t have a name tag. It didn’t seem to matter. Everybody knew I worked there because I was wearing the vest.

This morning I had a second Target work dream. As best as I can recall I’m working a register at the dream’s opening. That’s probably not where it started but that’s as far back as I can see. Today I’m not wearing the red vest. Nobody is. I seem to work several registers without logging in or out of any of them. I’m just going where the people are and ringing up their purchases. I’m thinking the running several registers at the same time is probably not correct but I’m not going to tell on myself.

After I check out my last customer an attaractive brunette with a dazzling smile comes up to me. She’s my boss but not the boss. She tells me I still don’t have a name tag yet but to follow her back to the offices and she’ll make sure I get one. She pushes through the throng of people at the front of the store. I follow along behind her. She has a fantastic butt. I’m not really thinking about following her anymore. I’m following the butt. It’s spectacular. Somebody should right a story about it. I guess maybe somebody is.

Anyway… my progress is suddenly impeded by 2 enormous women pushing shopping carts. The vision of the amazing bottom is replaced by these 2 moving very slowly and backing up traffic behind them. Another woman comes from nowhere and hands me my name tag. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing at this point. I haven’t hit a time clock all day. I have no real instruction or direction. I head on back to the offices to see where the emperess of butt is. I go through the doors and it appears to be another world. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with Target at all. Lots of people typing in a mass secretarial pool. As I walk down the hallway, a door opens and about 8 or 10 men wearing very expensive looking blue suits, wrap around sunglasses and slicked back hair exit and walk past me. Somehow I know they are from corporate but what it is they do is beyond me. I turn around and head the other way. I can see through the glass doors at the other end of the hallway. The garden department is visible outdoors. I go to check it out. Just before I reach the door I enter an atrium which is a guitar maker’s studio. Apparently Target makes their own guitars. Who’d a thunk? I pick up the schematic of one currently being assembled. It’s a Stradivarius. Target makes Stradivarius. This one is a custom for a special customer. It has 5 main strings but then an extra 2 outside the fret board.

I start to wonder how long I’ve been back in the back horsing around and wonder if it’s time to go home yet. I head to the front of the store where the crowd has cleared. Only a couple lanes open now and a few customers. There’s a small cubby hole of an office in the front of the store up a few stairs. Some woman coming down the stairs accidentally swipes me with a pen across the face as I enter. I park myself in a chair and tie my shoe. The brunette with the dazzling smile appears and hands me some papers. I briefly peruse them and see they involve me getting one of the blue suits. Cool! She says someone has written my name on my face, but that I’ve still got my name tag on and that if I take it off it shouldn’t happen again.

Some guy comes in, we exchange greetings and he sits at a desk across the room. I head back down the stairs and see my buddy Kyle talking to some other manager. It looks like he’s just been hired. He’s cut his hair and is wearing an odd looking sweater. It’s kinda freaky. I say hi, he talks about golf and that’s about it.


  1. Let’s see, pauses to tap her temple with her index finger. Tap. Pause. Tap.

    What’s my favorite part? So many to choose from. Your single-minded effort to follow the brunette with the fantastic, um, smile is most amusing. I love how you are shut down by not one, but two, big chicks with carts.

    Completely bitchin’ that Target makes *custome* guitars. And Stradivarius to boot. Sweep the Leg!

    I do think this is the best part — when someone swipes your face with a pen and then it’s your name written across your face. And bonus! Here comes the brunette with a new job offer and the news that you no longer need to use the old-school name tag on your shirt.

    My favorite posts are dreams. I am aware that no one else is into dreams, but I am.

    Thank you.

    • I had another pretty good dream a couple weeks back. This one was fresh in my mind so I got it down while I was still barely out of it. Maybe I’ll get the other one down in the next week or so.

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