213, 310, 818, 626, 562, 909, 424, 323 . . .

I awoke from a deep sleep the other night screaming “424!” like it was coming to get me, a drooling, snarling creature from beyond, and then, dear God, I realized with horror that it wasn’t a dream.

For those with an aversion to numbers, I have nightmarish news. New area codes are (Run! Scream!) advancing on L.A.

In addition to 213, 310, 818, 626, 562 and 909, you’re going to have to start thinking in terms of 424 and 323 before too long.

And if your business or pleasure requires dialing elsewhere in Southern California, like beyond 805 and 714, begin fixing 661 and 760 in your head and leave a little room for one more code still to be determined for 619, I mean for San Diego.

Actually, as it was explained to me, 424 isn’t really an area code but an overlay. Oh. What this means is that a second series of three numbers (4-2-4) will be dropped into the same region that is currently occupied by 310.

Those who live in 310 will continue to be 310, but those new to the neighborhood will be assigned 424. Wait. There’s more. Everyone in the Overlay Area will have to dial 1 plus the area code plus the number even if it’s the same area. This applies to celebrities as well as the rest of us.

In other words, beginning next July it’s an 11-number dial no matter where you’re calling, even your own area code, if you live in 310/424. Also in ‘99, if you’re still with me, the area surrounding downtown will receive the area code designation 323.

“Downtown businesses will still be 213, while those around it will be 323,” said Alison Costa of the California-Nevada Code Administration. She added: “Think of the 213 people as being the hole in a doughnut.”

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It seems that not long ago we had only three area codes in California. It was 415 for the north, 916 for the central area and 213 for us’n down here. Now there are 20 in the state, with six more coming over the rise with their claws extended.

In three years the number of area codes nationwide has jumped almost 70%, and only the devil himself (area code 666) knows where it’s all going to end.

It may be too much for me. My mind is already clogged with home phone numbers, cell phone numbers, fax numbers, pager numbers, Internet numbers, ATM numbers, checking account numbers and the number of women Clinton has left strewn in his path. I don’t need another area code to plunk into my failing memory.

I’m not even always sure what ZIP Code I’m in, and if I hadn’t written down my Social Security number years ago, it would be completely lost to me and I would never receive what my mother used to call an old-age pension.

I do, however, remember my Marine Corps serial number, due to the creative manner in which it was assigned.

“Your stinkin’ body will lie out there forever and nobody’s gonna want your stinkin’ body if you don’t remember that number!” a D.I. warned us. I didn’t want my stinkin’ body lying there ignored, so I remembered it.

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This just in: I have spoken with Alison Costa again. I said to her, “What if you’re a 310 and order another phone line into your house when the overlay is in effect. Would that new line be in area code 424?”

She said, “Probably.”

I said, gasping, “You mean it’s possible to have two area codes in the same house?”

“That’s possible,” she said cheerfully. I imagined her smiling, not fully understanding the situation.

The Age of Overlays may be our undoing. If you own a business in an area where overlays are superimposed over overlays and you order new phone lines, you could end up in half a dozen different area codes in the same room.

“Where will it all end?” I hear you cry. I suspect that at some point there will be family area codes or maybe even individual area codes. When we run out of numbers, we will have to create new ones. My grandson already has: “eleventeen, twelveteen, thirteen. . . .”

The problem has become so severe that the Federal Communications Commission has ordered an investigation. Since nothing is ever made better with Washington involved, one can envision a time when the whole system will simply break down in terminal confusion.

You won’t know what area code to use, and your stinkin’ body will lie out there forever and nobody’s gonna want it.

Al Martinez’s column appears Tuesdays and Fridays. He can be reached online at al.martinez@latimes.com