Dancing Around in Dreams

As he looked around his livingroom, Joey was awestruck. He could not believe what was happening. Someone had taken his wildest fantasies and made them real. If he were not experiencing it for himself, he would have thought it a figment of someone else's imagination. Yet there he was, sitting in what could only be described as the most comfortable reclining chair ever constructed. It felt like a second skin. As if he were being cradled by a loving, nurturing parent. As if he were born in it and returning to the womb.

He let himself settle deep into the chair. The cushion's wrapped themselves around him in an embrace as the recliner pointed him towards the television. It ergonomically fit his posture perfectly with the headrest positioned at just the right spot for maximum comfort. And as he sunk deeper into the cloud-like cushions, resting his head in the crook of the chair, it seemed to speak to him telepathically and it reassured him that everything in his life was going to be great and he should never worry about anything ever again.

If being his therapist was not enough, the recliner also had a cup holder for his beer, a pouch for his remote, a retractable tray to put snacks on, and speakers in the headrest, resulting in a near complete immersion into whatever show or movie he wanted to watch. As if he were being dipped into a pool of endless entertainment.

He would have been content just sitting there, in this miracle chair, enjoying some random television show. Or perhaps even another viewing of Die Hard. That would have been heaven. But the universe was not done rewarding him, because, for some inexplicable reason, standing before him were all the women of Baywatch. Yasmine, Pamela, Nicole, Erika, Gena Lee, and even Carmen, who he was still not sold on as a solid replacement for Pamela. Nevertheless, he was excited that she was there with the rest of the voluptuous lifeguards. And all of his misgivings about Carmen Electra were quickly wiped away as he watched her saunter about the room. All of these beautiful sexy women right here. in his apartment, doting on his every need. Hanging on his every word as he described how to construct the perfect sandwich.

At first, when they appeared, the women were all vying for his attention. Competing with each other as they took turns slinking into the chair next to him so they could press their perfect lifeguard bodies against his. They spoke softly, with a sultry flair as they talked about Hollywood, modeling, and their lingerie preferences. Joey was even further impressed as it seemed they were all rabid thong enthusiasts.

Just when he thought he could not take anymore, they all surprised him by popping open a suitcase filled with bikinis and offered to try them on for him. A fashion show for an audience of one. He could not believe his luck, especially since they all agreed that they would change right there, in front of him. All of the women of Baywatch, ready to twist and turn as they showed off every inch of what Joey could only assume were the bodies of elite, Olympic level swimmers.

Just as Pamela leaned over and asked him to help her loosen the knot on her top so she could remove it, David Hasselhoff burst into the apartment. He deftly moved past the foosball table, and spun in a circle around the counter, all while balancing a tray of meatball subs that were piled as high as the ceiling. A smirk twitched at the corner of Joey's mouth to signal how impressed he was by Hasselhoff's athletic reflexes. No doubt honed by years of fighting crime, saving lives and tearing down the Berlin wall with the power of his music.

Joey, while excited to meet one of his heroes, was still in repose on his new recliner, unable to resist its comforting charms. He reached out for one of the sandwiches as they passed by, but David pulled them back and shook his head disapprovingly.

"I'm sorry Joseph, but these are for cast members only."

Joey pouted and whined. "What? But that's not fair! I love those sandwiches. I can smell the sauce and the melted cheese. They look so warm. They want to be in my belly."

David sat down on the table and place the tray next to him. "Well, like I said, I am sorry, but you can't have one."

Joey folded his arms and huffed as he let an aggrieved eyebrow arch high. All the women in the room began to snicker. He was beginning to feel insulted by their behavior and gestured as if he were about to get up and storm off to his room. Show them how wounded he was at their amusement of his torture. But before he could make a move, David Hasselhoff pulled out a clipboard and a pen from his black leather jacket, that could only have belonged to him when he was playing Michael Knight on Knight Rider.

"You can't have a meatball sub, until you sign this that is." David dropped the clipboard in Joey's lap and shoved a pen in his hand. Joey looked down and could not believe his eyes. He looked back up at Hasselhoff, almost in disbelief. David smiled back, intimating that what was happening was real, and not in any way some kind of cruel joke. "That's right Joseph! It's a lifetime contract to join the show! Me and you! Saving lives and fighting beach crime together!"

Pamela leaned forward between the two men and smiled as she traced a finger along Joey's thigh. "That's right! And I am returning to the show. And you get to be my love interest. Maybe after you eat, we can start rehearsing the love scenes."

Joey swelled with pride and smiled. He gave Pamela Anderson his best bedroom eyes and was about to let loose with his patented "how you doing" until he was cut off as Carmen Electra shoved her aside.

"What! I was told I would have Joey as my boyfriend on the show."

Soon, all the women began to push each other out of the way. Each one trying to be in the forefront. A chorus of "No! He's mine!" reverberated about the room. The carnal desires of several beautiful women bouncing across the walls of his apartment.

David Hasselhoff stood up and gestured with his hands for the beautiful actresses to calm down. "Ladies. First thing is first. He signs this and then gets to drive K.I.T.T. around the neighborhood."

Joey leapt up from his reclined position and giddily signed the papers. He tossed the clipboard back down onto the table and clasped his hands together with childlike excitement at the prospect of driving a talking, crime fighting car around Manhattan. He then regained his composure and tried to speak in a calm, debonair tone. "He's right ladies. Besides, you don't need to fight. There's plenty of Joey to go around."

Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, Joey saw Monica standing in the room. He was surprised since he did not hear her enter the apartment or notice her when she walked in, but there she was. And she did not look happy. He was not sure what threw him off more, that his friend was intruding on his most triumphant moment, or that she was not wearing a bathing suit like every other woman there. He leaned towards her and tried to appear nonchalant in front of the Baywatch beauties as he let out a panicked whisper.

"What are you doing here?"

Monica stood there silently. Almost expressionless.

Joey smiled lasciviously. "Are you on Baywatch too now? Funny, I always figured Rachel would be better suited for it, but okay." Joey then excitedly glanced back at the Baywatch actresses. "Someone, give her a bikini!"

Monica finally opened her mouth to speak, but she was looking off and not addressing anyone in particular. "What are you doing here!"

Joey glared indignantly back at her. "I live here."

Monica stomped her foot and folded her arms. "You stole my apartment!"

Joey looked around, confused. "Mon, this is my apartment. What's going on? Does Chandler know you're here? Did he get a part on the show too? Because I'm not sharing any of these women with him."

Monica, still looking off at a dark corner of the room, let out a loud, exasperated sigh. "Have you been living here the whole time!"

Joey, now annoyed enough by Monica's interruption to act, angrily kicked the footrest back into its locking position and stood up from the chair. As he tried to move, he felt restricted, as if his feet were tied together. He attempted to approach Monica, but he lost his balance, and his entire body crashed to the floor with a heavy thud.

Suddenly, Joey found himself on the floor in his bedroom. His legs tangled in the sheets that were half-ripped from the mattress. He tugged hard to pull them free from the bed, which allowed him to finally stand up. He bunched them up and wrapped the sheet around his waist loosely to cover himself. His eyebrow arched up angrily and he could have sworn, he heard Monica yelling from the other side of his bedroom door.

He walked out of his bedroom and grumbled under his breath. "Coming to my place and yelling and ruining a perfectly good dream."

Joey angrily looked around the apartment, but he had trouble focusing as his eyes were still filled with sleep. He rubbed at them to try and shake the cotton from his brain. "What's going on out here! Why are you yelling! You're ruining my nap!"

Rachel and Phoebe looked back at him, both clearly resenting his tone and his accusations.

"That's not us. Monica is yelling from the hallway."

Joey's face grew still as he squinted at the door to the apartment. "Wow. She's so loud."

Rachel nodded but then twisted her face up as she leaned her head sideways and stared between Joey's legs as her eyes caught sight of something she was not expecting to see. She quickly averted her eyes and squealed in shock and disgust. "Joey! Pull that sheet tighter."

Phoebe turned to catch a glimpse before Joey covered himself and then licked at her top lip with a salacious glint in her eye.

Joey smiled bashfully at Phoebe's wordless compliment, but then quickly regained his ire at having his sleep disturbed. "Well, I'm gonna give her a piece of my mind. Yelling at this hour." Joey stormed passed the livingroom towards the front door.

Rachel perked up inquisitively. "At this hour? Joey, it's not even dinnertime yet."

"This is naptime Rachel, and everyone knows Joey needs his naps!" He swung the door open, ready to castigate Monica, but found the hallway empty. He craned his ear, and then winced as he heard another shouted expletive from across the hall. He then turned back to face Rachel and Phoebe, who had followed him to the door. He gestured with his thumb towards apartment twenty. "Wow. She is really, really loud."

'Sir. You're going to have to wait until your group is called."

Ross huffed and darted his eyes towards the man shuffling down the jetway. "Why is he getting to board the plane now? I bet everyone here would really like an answer to that! Right people?" Ross looked around, as if to rally the other passengers to his cause, and join him in his umbrage, but no one was paying attention. Too distracted with books, newspapers, magazines and morning coffee.

The gate agent gestured with her thumb at the man she let pass by. "He's blind."

"But I'm a doctor!"

The gate agent let loose with an exasperated sigh. "Sir, I told you when you first got here, that doctors do not board early. Especially ones that would not be useful in a medical emergency. You know, real doctors."

"Real doctors! Would you say that to Stephen Hawking? I bet Doctor Hawking would get to take his seat now!"

"Of course he would."

Ross let out a forced, smug chuckle as he felt that he had successfully outmaneuvered her with his cleverness. He turned again to see if anyone had witnessed his triumph, but still, no one was looking his way. He turned back to the gate agent and let out one more smug laugh. "Oh, I guess his PhD counts more than mine?"

"No." The woman looked up, as if reconsidering her words. "Well, actually, it does mean more than yours, but that's not why he would get to go on the plane. Doctor Hawking would get on the plane early because of the Air Carrier Access Act. People with disabilities get to board first."

Ross's features became still as he felt a slight tinge of embarrassment. He turned quickly and noticed that most of the other passengers were now staring at him and muttering under their breath. "Oh, now you're all paying attention."

He could hear Rachel's voice in his head. "The word 'doctor' means something Ross, it isn't about knowing what dinosaur died a million years ago."

Finding one last gasp of indignation, Ross stomped his foot and whined out a subdued, "I am a real doctor" before making his way back to the row of hard, plastic chairs where he left his carry-on bag. He stewed a bit as he fidgeted with his boarding pass and then resigned himself to looking out the window as he waited to board the plane.

It was still early, and the sun had not yet risen; its arrival coming later and later each day as foreshadowing of the winter months to come. All Ross could see were the blinking lights of the tarmac breaking through the shadowy reflections cast on the pane from inside the gate. He focused on his own image, which more resembled a macabre caricature of himself, something perhaps from one of Goya's Black Paintings rather than his own countenance. His sunken eyes darkened by shadows. His jaw line distorted and stretched from the curve of the reinforced glass. His mouth tight and obscured. Almost as if he were staring at some kind of demonic apparition. The devil on his shoulder. The one who indulged him to act at his most brash and unreasonable.

He had to look away for a moment, and noticed the gate agent glare at him; shooting daggers with her eyes. The other passengers glancing over at him as well, with a sense of embarrassment. Like they were a parent of a child who had a meltdown in the middle of the store because they did not get their way. Ross found their reactions upsetting, which was odd for him. Usually, he was able to brush off the opinions of others in moments like this. The judgmental stares from a roomful of strangers meant nothing to him as long as he stayed true to his principles. But this feeling that washed over him seemed to be about more than just his tiff with the gate agent. Something had been gnawing at him for weeks now, and this vexation only intensified each day. It hung over him ever since he woke up this morning. A sensation that made him feel as if everything and everyone was conspiring against him. The universe committed to thwarting his happiness.

Ross's brow furrowed and then he looked off, an expression of epiphany flashed across his face. And in a moment of reflection, he realized that this melancholy and petulance that seemed to envelope him was not about the agent at the counter, or the rude service, or the gawking passengers waiting to board their planes. It was not about his sister sleeping with his best friend or the two of them hiding it from him.

This was really about one thing.

One person.

It was about Rachel.

All of his bravado and bluster these last few months after they broke up was just a cover. And hearing another woman echo one of Rachel's favorite criticisms of him, that his PhD was not as impressive as he thought it was, allowed him to put everything in perspective. His wounded pride had not fully healed, and because of that, he was easily irritated by everyone around him. Coworkers, friends, family, strangers, they all faced his wrath; no one he encountered was spared his sharp tongue. And they did not all deserve that. Except maybe Dennis from the museum's geology department. But most of the others were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Especially Monica. She didn't deserve his ire, or frustration. Whatever was going on with her and Chandler, he realized it was unfair of him to bring all of his own baggage into it.

Just then, Ross heard the ticketing agent call his group to board, and he was briefly snapped out of his self-reflection. But as he slung his bag over his shoulder, he knew what he had to do. When he comes back home and sees her on Thanksgiving, he would to make this right.

Joey braced himself against the door to apartment twenty and flinched as he heard Monica's shrill, exasperated and scolding shout reverberate through the hallway. He then looked back at Rachel and Phoebe. "Wow. I haven't heard her like this since that time she found out Rachel didn't wash the dishes for a month."

Rachel scoffed. "What! I always cleaned the dishes!"

Phoebe rolled her eyes and then let loose with a sarcastic chuckle. "Oh, okay. Sure. You wash dishes."

Joey chuckled as Rachel's eyebrows arched, clearly aggrieved by the aspersions being cast about her by the two of them. Suddenly, her face got still as she snagged onto a thought. "Wait. Are you telling me Monica yells at me when I'm not around?"

Phoebe nodded. "All the time! And from what we hear, you're a terrible roommate."

"What!" Rachel's face twisted into an angry pout.

Joey, realizing that perhaps they went too far, made eye contact with Phoebe and tried to nonchalantly gesture towards Rachel with his head. Wordlessly imploring her to give Rachel some words of encouragement to change her mood. Phoebe caught on and nodded.

"I mean, no, she never did that. You're a wonderful roommate." Phoebe then leaned in towards Joey and smirked with a sense of self-satisfied smugness. "That probably worked. Rachel is very gullible."

"Hey!" Rachel shook her head intensely. "I'm right here! I can hear you!"

Phoebe leaned in and whispered to Joey once more. "She also has ears like a cat!"

Joey decided to defuse the situation by slowly opening the door to the girls' old apartment, hoping to distract them both with whatever they would find inside. He poked his head in-between the crack of the door and looked around the kitchen.

"I don't see anyone."

Phoebe gave him a slight shove forward. "You have to go all the way inside."

Monica shouted one more time, but she was out of view, and Joey began to grow nervous and uneasy. As if he was entering some house of horrors, filled with shadows and the screams of the unknown. He turned back nervously. "I don't wanna, I'm scared."

Phoebe eyed him with a mix of sympathy and disdain. "Oh Joseph."

Rachel grew frustrated and pushed past him, making her way through the kitchen. She stopped when she saw Monica and Chandler standing in the middle of the livingroom. They were both facing the bathroom, their eyes wide. She spun around and came face-to-face with a wet, hulking figure that was draped in a large towel.

"Treeger? What are you doing here?"

Monica folded her arms and tapped her foot angrily. "That's what I would like to know!"

Joey and Phoebe rushed over to join the others. The five of them now squaring off with Treeger making the apartment look more like a professional wrestling ring, with the opponents taking their corners before the no holds barred match was to begin.

Treeger looked around nervously as he searched his mind for some plausible excuse. "I'm, uh, well, you see…I'm inspecting it. Yeah. I do this with all the apartments we are trying to rent out." He nodded, satisfied with his answer and then gestured with his thumb towards the bathroom behind him. "Shower works."

Joey shook his head in disbelief. "You do all your inspections naked?"

Treeger looked down at himself, and tugged at the towel that now felt as if it were barely covering him. "Well, uh…."

Phoebe looked around the apartment and noted the threadbare furnishings. "Are you living here?"

"No." Treeger tried to avoid their eyes and he glanced down at the floor. "Okay, yes. Yes. I am living here." He made his way towards his couch and plopped down with his legs spread wide.

Joey and Chandler both immediately turned their heads and gestured wildly as they groaned with exaggerated disgust. "Oh! Come on man! Close the curtains!"

Treeger looked down and quickly pulled his knees together and flopped some of the towel across his lap.

Phoebe waggled her eyebrows and gently elbowed Rachel. "First Joey and now this. If I knew I was going to get this kind of show every ten minutes in this building, I never would have moved out."

Treeger checked once more to make sure he was covered up and then glanced back at the five of them; a sheepish look of embarrassed guilt on his face. "When you guys moved out, I may not have actually gotten the landlord to evict you. And maybe I moved in here instead. And, maybe I clogged the toilet a few times."

"What? Why?"

"Well, I probably eat too much red meat…"

"No no no." Chandler cut him off and gestured for Treeger to stop elaborating on his unhealthy diet and his irritable bowel syndrome. He then pursed his lips as tried to maintain his composure. "Not that. Why are you living here?"

"Have you seen where I live? That dump on the first floor?"

Joey nodded in agreement. "Oh yeah, it was awful. It was like a junkyard. Everything in there smelled so bad. I thought I was going to throw up." Joey lifted his nose and took in a breath through his nostrils. "You know what. It's kind of like how this place smells."

Treeger glared at Joey. "I was talking about how small it was! Not the smell!"

Joey looked down sheepishly. "Oh, yeah, that too."

Monica, having heard enough, leaned in towards Treeger. "I want my apartment back!"

"What? No way. This place is great! I can't give this up! Besides, you were living here in violation of rent stabilization act of 1968! You were illegally subletting from your grandma!"

Rachel looked down at the end table near Treeger's couch and spied some mail piled up. "Okay, but I bet, you are too."

"What?"

"You just said they still think that Monica lives here, which means they still think Monica's grandmother lives here. So, you're violating that rent stabilizing thingee, and you're committing mail fraud!" Rachel reached over, grabbed an envelope and waved it in everyone's face. "Look! It still has Monica's grandmother's name on it!"

Everyone gasped as if they were part of some murder mystery, dinner theater troupe where the culprit had finally been revealed.

Phoebe shook her head. "Is there no end to your crimes. I mean, Mail fraud. That's ten-to-twenty years easy."

Joey waved his finger at Treeger. "And don't forget about making girls cry."

Monica glared at the trail of water that followed Treeger from the bathroom. "And you dripped water all over my nice wood floors."

Rachel slid beside Monica. "And making me cry!"

Chandler leaned over and spoke softly in Rachel's ear. "Joey already said that."

"Yeah, well…that's a big one." Rachel then jabbed a scolding finger at Treeger. "Well now you better move back to your dump or we're going to call the landlord and we're going to make sure you lose your job. How about that. Who's making who cry now!"

"All right, all right! I didn't even really want to live here. I just wanted to impress Marge. I figured, I missed Supers Ball, and I don't really have a lot of money, and I'm shaped like a big potato…but if I had a nice, clean apartment, not some dumpy closet like most supers in this city, then she'd have to like me. But…"

"What?"

"Well, she wants me to make her a meal, and I don't know how to cook. I haven't made anything that takes longer than three minutes in a microwave since 1986."

Monica held her stomach and shuddered at the thought of a near twenty year diet of microwave burritos and hot dogs.

Phoebe nodded solemnly. "Well, no wonder you clogged the toilet."

Joey's face lit up and he snapped his fingers. "Hey Mon, you can cook."

Monica stared at Joey with a confused look on her face. "Yeah? And?"

"So, how about this. You cook a meal for Treeger to pass off as his own, he impresses this Marge chick, and then you move back in and he keeps his mouth shut about your whole rent stabilizing thing."

Rachel nodded and smiled proudly. "That's actually a good idea Joe."

Chandler chuckled. "Suddenly someone wants to sleep with a woman and he becomes Sun Tzu."

Phoebe beamed. "I think that is kind of sweet." Then her face turned to one of disappointment. "And also, kind of creepy. As a woman, I am deeply offended."

Monica's face twisted a bit as she realized going along with this plan would mean gaslighting a woman she did not know, but she weighed that against getting her apartment back and found her resolve. "Okay. I'll do it."

"Great!" Treeger jumped up with excitement, causing his towel to shift again.

"Woah! Oh! Oh!" Chandler, Joey and Monica all raised their hands and averted their eyes as Phoebe elbowed Rachel once more with a gleeful smile.

Rachel turned to glare at Phoebe. "Really? Treeger?"

"What? I am a woman Rach."

Treeger quickly covered up again and rushed himself out of the livingroom towards Monica's old bedroom. "Great. I was thinking of having her over for Thanksgiving."

"What?" Monica's eyes quickly widened, but before she could protest any more, Treeger was gone.

Joey nodded with a sense of accomplishment and made his way over to the refrigerator and opened it. "Well, I guess that's taken care of…ooo…burrito."

Monica shuddered as Rachel turned to look at her old room. "You know, I think I am going to see if he did anything to my room."

Phoebe ducked behind Rachel. "Ooo. Do you think he did sex stuff in there?"

Rachel turned her head and shot back a look of disgust. "Phoebe!"

Rachel shuddered off the image her friend put in her mind and then made her way to her old bedroom. Phoebe followed and the two women disappeared from the livingroom.

Monica looked up at Chandler with a worried expression on her face. "Dammit. Do you know what that means?"

"Yeah. You are going to have to really clean this place. Especially your bedroom if that's where he sleeps."

Monica rolled her eyes. "No. We're going to have to spend Thanksgiving with Treeger and his girlfriend."

Chandler looked back at her with confused eyes. "So."

"So?" Monica glared at him with impatience.

Chandler's only retort was to shrug his shoulders.

"So, this is, you know, the first Thanksgiving we get to spend together."

"What? We've spent a ton of Thanksgivings together." Chandler scoffed and Monica slapped him on the shoulder. "Oww!"

"I mean since we started….you know." She looked over at Joey to ensure he wasn't paying attention and then pressed herself close to Chandler so she could clutch at his fingers.

"Oh! Right." Chandler nodded.

Monica released Chandler's hand and started to look around the apartment, already cataloging everything she was going to have to do to get this place back up to her particular standards. She then glanced at Chandler. "Hey, what did you want to tell me before we came in here?"

Chandler froze. The moment he was building up to, telling her he loved her, seemed to have lost steam. It felt as if that moment was hours ago and not just a few minutes. Now, he felt as if it would be anticlimactic to say something. Unable to organize his thoughts clearly, all he could utter was a slow and timid. "What?"

Monica turned away from him and walked over to the wall as she ran a finger against it. "Is this grease?"

"What?"

Monica turned to look at Chandler once more. "Are you okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I just, wow….you have your work cut out for you here. I think I'm going to go across the hall." Chandler started to move through the apartment with exaggerated gestures. As if his haphazard motions would somehow convey that he felt completely at ease and that everything was normal.

Monica stared at him, puzzled by his swift change in demeanor. "What is going on with you?"

"Huh? Nothing. I'm just so excited for you. You're going to get your apartment back." Monica took a step towards him, but Chandler hurried out the door with a terse "okay then, bye bye."

Once out in the hallway, Chandler rested his head against the door with a sigh.

"That went well."

He put his hand on the door handler. "Just go in there and say, 'I love you, and also everyone knows about us'. That should go over well while Joey eats an old burrito and Treeger walks around the place naked."

Chandler sighed and turned towards his apartment. He needed to find the perfect moment to tell her. The perfect words to say. He did not want to screw this up. Not with Monica. He grabbed the knob to his door, but, before he could open it, he stopped as a flash of pained discovery bounced across his eyes. He looked down, deflated, and shook his head at his own dumb luck.

"Oh crap. I'm going to have to do this on Thanksgiving, aren't I?"