Farrell: More numbers to dial in Lowcountry might be stuff of nightmares

In my second-most frequently occurring nightmare, I am at a checkout counter, and it's my turn.

But I don't get waited on.

Instead, time and again the people behind me get to pay and leave. Over and over. Pay and leave. Pay and leave. And I stand there, smiling and waiting like an idiot, not wanting to cause a problem for anyone.

Just waiting, waiting, waiting.

Until I blow.

It starts with a laugh. I turn to the other customers. "I'm sorry," I say. "But this is ridiculous. It's my turn."

I try to explain the injustice.

"You see this, right? I'm in front of you, physically in front of you, yet you're getting to pay and leave, and I still have to stand here and wait. This isn't how lines works."

No one listens. No one sympathizes. No one offers to let me ahead of them.

So I'm left with no choice but to eviscerate the clerk. I talk through my teeth. I bang the counter. I say horrible things about the clerk's very existence, creative things I never knew I was capable of saying about or to another human.

And then I'm embarrassed.

This is my second-most frequently occurring nightmare.

I have no fear of it coming true.

My first, though? That's another story, and with the Lowcountry set to make the switch to 10-digit dialing Saturday, I was reminded of just how often my dream actually does manifest in real life.

My nightmare is this: It's an emergency, and I cannot dial the phone. Either I get to the end of the number string and press the wrong button. Or my fingers won't dial. Or I accidentally hang up the phone after it rings once.

It's stressful, and in the dream I get more and more frustrated.

On Friday morning, I called Justina Lasley to find out what it all means.

Lasley is a dream interpretation expert who lives on Hilton Head Island part-time. She is the author of "Wake Up to Your Dreams: Transform Your Relationships, Career and Health While You Sleep," and she's the founder of the Institute for Dream Studies.

It took me three tries on a landline to dial her number right.

First I dialed seven digits.

What?

Then 10.

This can't be happening.

Then I added the +1.

Ah.

"Oh yes," Lasley said when I told her the details of the dream. "It's very common. I had that one the other night."

Can't-dial-the-phone dreams, she said, are really calling-for-help dreams.

"When you have these dreams, you have to ask 'what is it in my life that I need help with?'" she told me.

In fact, she recommends keeping a dream journal.

"(Dreams are) the wisdom we are given at birth," she said. "That's why I'm so passionate about it ... it is our wisest part. We stay so busy, and (dreams are) our guiding light for life. It's God's voice."

I believe this.

In real life, she said, there is probably someone with whom I need to connect or communicate, but for whatever reason I cannot.

She is correct.

But back to phones.

The switch to a 10-digit dialing system is a sophisticated move for the Lowcountry. I don't know if that is an accurate observation, but it seems this way to me. After all, major metropolitan areas have been doing this for quite some time.

When I moved here 12 years ago, I was used to dialing 10 digits to call the person next door. Not that I ever called the person next door. I did not know that person, but I do know that her son stole the Nissan symbol off my car and vandalized my backyard.

It was that kind of city.

Maybe this is why returning to seven digits at first seemed so quaint to me, so neighborly, so indicative of a time when you memorized phone numbers and could prank someone without them knowing it was you.

Seven digits. So very simple.

When I was younger, I used to marvel at the number printed on my aunt and uncle's rotary phone. JAckson-1, it said, and there was a four-digit number that followed it.

The four-digit number was technically their phone number, I think. JA1 (or 521) signified their neighborhood. I could never wrap my head around it, but I really liked dialing their phone.

The sound of the rotary was lyrical and satisfying.

I'm pretty sure I could still identify my best friend's number just by hearing that soft and fast tumble of clicks again.

Or rather, that soft and fast tumble of clicks along with the annoyed slam of a receiver, which seemed to happen a lot.

Because I dialed the number wrong.

Follow columnist and senior editor Liz Farrell at twitter.com/elizfarrell and facebook.com/elizfarrell.

Related content:

• Farrell: 9 reasons Beaufort County may have best fall around, Sept. 14
• Farrell: Burton man gets hit with ashtray? How about Beaufort woman loves her duck, Sept. 11
• Farrell: Food Network makes stars of Hilton Head Island chefs on 'Beach Eats', Sept. 10

This story was originally published September 18, 2015 at 6:16 PM with the headline "Farrell: More numbers to dial in Lowcountry might be stuff of nightmares."