Dreams are hard to interpret. The abstract side of the brain is underutilized by the unimaginative. Most people only see with their eyes what is directly in front of them. Only a fellow dreamer can give substance to things not yet fulfilled, things to be constructed. That simple trait set a worker apart from an owner.
    Greg gave his pitch to Ben, a likewise visionary, with nothing in the bare concrete room to support it. Greg described his aspirational dream. Ben dawdles behind Greg, looking with skepticism at the bare wiring and cobwebbed pipes above them.
    "We can lay down some more carpet here," Greg envisioned, "If I get a  counter installed, we can put all the monitors up there. Another register thereWe can--Ben, what's wrong???"
    Ben had an ashy color that was not healthy. He was clutching his chest with one hand, all while wheezing harshly. Donny is beside himself with worry.
    "Ben?!?!" Donny asks shrilly, "What's the matter???"
    "I--I think I'm having a panic attack," Ben stutters. Greg locates a tattered dinner chair with brown cushions and backing. A swatch of the material is ripped, and yellowish white cotton pokes through like scruffy dander. Ben sinks to the chair, gripping his legs, his upper body rising and falling as he struggles to catch his breath. Donny leaves to grab a glass of water. Greg drops to his knees, wincing as his kneecap rests upon a stray rock. He readjusts his sitting position and touches Ben's shoulder.
    "c'mon, this room isn't that bad, is it?" Greg says, trying to alleviate stress through humor, "Do you have a heart condition?"
    "No," Ben says powerlessly, "I just can't catch me breathI just--"
Donny arrives with the water and Ben swigs it gratefully. After gasping from his sudden intake of H20, ben speaks.
    "Michelle said she was gonna leave me," Ben says openly to whomever. Donny's eyebrows rise with astoundment.
    "your wife Michelle?" Donny asks, "I thought you guys were doing great."
"So did I," Ben says with scorn, "I left the house today, and told her I was going to a meeting with a potential business partner. She laughed, and it was really cruel. She said 'still pretending to be a big boss, huh? While I stand back and watch us get further and further into debt. When are we gonna have children? When is your stupid dream gonna be over? Because I tell ya, Ben, next year i'll be 35, and I'm gonna have a baby, with or without you. I've only got so much time left.'"
    Ben breaks this news with a sad tone of defeat in his voice. one of his wavering hands still holds the waterglass as he gestures in a wide arc.
    "It's all coming down, man," Ben says frantically, "Michelle and I have been married for ten years, and we kept holding off having kids, cuz we didn't have money. And now, the banks set to foreclose on my house, and there's no more stalling."
    the water heater kicks on, and the airy rush of flame is the only sound in the cramped quarters. Ben sinks his face into his hands and rubs furiously. Greg can actually hear ben's eyes squelch in their sockets. The former Carpet King Gus had a similar predicament and it did not turn out in Gus' favor. This matter needed Greg's undivided attention. Greg purposefully trots out to the front door, turns the front sign over to closed, and locks it.    
    Greg then returned to the vacuous room, devoid of anything upon the walls or floor. Was this sterile place really going to hold the stuff of ambition??? It was time for Greg to sell his case, while Ben was on the ropes, undecided.
    "Look, Ben, all bullshit aside," Greg begins, "I know I'm not exactly your first choice for an associate. But right now we need each other. My store has come back, but not enough for me to keep going the way I have been. We need to rethink this, for both our sakes. Remember the plan, my friend. Let's stick with that."
    Ben lets out a quavering moan, and tilts his head back, running one hand roughly through his moustache.
    "I can't loose the house," Ben says in a choked voice, "and I can't loose MichelleWe can go ahead and do this, but we need to start immediately. I can't afford to fuck around anymore."
    Ben's decree reverberates throughout Greg. It was time to take this racket to the next level. Ben does not currently impose a galvanizing figure. He, like Greg had been, was at the end of his rope. And he, also like Greg, would pull out of it. Greg was sure of it.
    "Do you wanna smoke some weed?" Donny asks lightly.
Ben raises his head and studies Greg carefully.
"No," Ben mumbles, "I don't smoke weed."
    Donny tsks Ben, dispatching his hesitance.
"Greg's cool," Donny vouches, "he smokes too. We've gotten high plenty of times."
"That's right" Greg says agreeably. Ben bites his lip in consternation.
    "That does sound pretty nice right now," Ben says, "I haven't been able to afford a bag this month. It's been almost three weeks since I smoked."
    Greg's hunch on Ben's pothead status proved correct. With no further delay, Donny retrieves the joint from Greg's desk and they light it up. Ben's spirit improves immediately. They don't talk much at all, just puff and pass continuously, but Greg sees the weight of Ben's problems lifted somewhat. The room fills with a thick cloud of cannabis smoke. It drifts through the air easily, filtering the glow from the single bare bulb above them, their only light source. Donny has again procured some fine grade marijuana.
    The joint tapers off to a roach, which Donny extinguishes. Donny then places it in a wrapper of cellophane from cigarette pack, along with an extra bud of green goodness. Carefully rolling the plastic wrapper around the weed, Donny seals it by melting it with his lighter. His task complete, Donny hands it over to Ben, who stuffs it hurriedly into his pocket.
    "thanks Don," Ben says with real feeling, "I though I was gonna lose it there for a second, dude."
    "Don't worry about it, Ben," Donny says, "You've smoked me up plenty of times."
    "Well, I guess my secret is out," Ben says with an anemic smile, "I'm a pot-smoking hippy geek."
    "Without weed, the world would descend into chaos," Donny says, as he extols the benefits of pot, "If only those fucking cops would catch on, and just legalize it."
    Upon this, all three men are in agreement. They murmur to themselves as the thought of a weed-free earth is conjured up.
    Ben's phone rings loudly. Ben puts a finger to his lips, signaling no further talk about weed.
    "Hey Michelle," Ben says, clearing his smoke-covered throat, "What's up? OkOh. Well, I'm sorry too. I know you are. It's not right, I want kids too. Yeah."
    Ben snaps up from his chair and begins pacing towards the front. A black garbage bag hangs above the doorway of the backroom. Greg hastily put it up some time ago, to act as something of a barrier. Greg had pulled it down once they started toking. Ben struggles through the bag like it was a curtain. He seems somewhat dazed and foggy-headed. His tolerance for weed must've dropped since he went without for such a long time. Ben manages to clear the way, and turns towards Greg one last time.
    "I'm taking off, Greg," Ben says, holding the phone to his chest to muffle their talking, "I'll call you tomorrow to start hauling those computers over. they're already assembled, they just need to be movedOkay?"
    "Thank you, my good man," Greg says formally and waves him off. Donny and Greg still sit, Donny on an old ice cooler, and Greg on a canvas foldable camping chair. Greg breathes deep, wanting to suck in as much second hand smoke as he can, knowing he will not be partaking again any time soon. Greg couldn't be smoking all the time now that he was going to be around Julie. Besides, love was the strongest drug there was, putting the comfort of weed to shame. Greg was overdosing on Rebecca, and this OD never felt better.
    "So, are we done for the day?" Donny asks sluggishly
"Yeah, shit," Greg says dismissively, "I've got nothing left to haggle for anyways. Consider the impound fee repaid."
    "And the other?" Donny says. Greg pauses. Donny was referring to the value of stolen pills.
    "I'd say Ben needs a lot of help lugging those computers over here," Greg says thoughtfully, "If you help him out, all debts are forgiven."
    "Alright, dude," Donny says, taking off his work shirt. He tosses it indifferently onto a small coffee table and jumps up from the cooler.
    "Can I use your phone?" Donny asks, "I've gotta call Gus for my ride. He wasn't expecting me until 6pm."
    "I can give you a ride," Greg says, "Providing my shitty Lebaron doesn't break down again. Gus needs to save his gas. Where is Gus keeping his blazer now anyways?"
    "We found a parking lot of an old grocery store that went out of business," Donny explains, "Other cars park there all the time and never get towed, so we know it's safe."
    Greg texted Rebecca again, and let her know he would be swinging by to pick her up. "Where are we going?" Is her worded reply.
Greg had thought of an activity they not only would enjoy, but should do out of respect.
"Just dress nice" Greg texted.

LINK TO PART 57: http://www.ebaumsworld.com/blogs/view/82464864/