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I'm in a house - I don't think it's mine - the others are out somewhere and there's a map here that's very important - belongs to someone who's out. 2 or 3 people, including a young blonde girl, come to the house - they're not visitors, exactly, maybe they present themselves as having business, but they steal the map - the others come back and find them outside nearby and challenge them on it. They're defiant, claiming they didn't steal it they had this one all along. [Mostly I'm feeling girlish and helpless through all of this and the last dream, too.] | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm out someplace pretty far from home and I want to get back, but have no car. There aren't any buses out here (at least not on a weekend) and I don't really know what I'm going to do. I'm certainly not going to hitchhike - I'm not sure if anybody I can call could come get me. There's a tour bus here, and people are coming up to it. Eavesdropping a bit, I learn that it's a natural-history sort of affair. It has pretty much only older folks along, but they don't seem to be exclusive, and it doesn't cost much, so I think I'll try to sneak on. I wait for a couple of people to check their places on the list the driver's got, and when I get up to him I'll say I was late registering and didn't get on the list. It works just fine and I get on the bus with the others, we're leaving shortly. The bus is an old yellow schoolbus. Right now I don't know whether or not I'll just disappear when we get there, or offer some excuse why I'm leaving the group (like I phone home and they tell me I'm needed), or maybe I'd even like to stay and see. But I've got to get home. I think I'd prefer to call somebody to come get me because using the buses means waiting a long time, then going downtown to transfer. Or I could walk. A long haul, but maybe I could get to one of my own bus lines. I'm at the entrance to the Faire, or perhaps another, but I want to go there anyway. I'd been planning to go later after going home and changing clothes, but I find myself here anyway. (I'm not sure how - is this where the bus was? Or where the bus stopped? [Or another dream?]) I'm wearing shorts and have a big shoulder-strap bag and a parcel or 2nd bag with me, not heavy but awkward to carry and I have no place to leave it. I'm hesitating, weighing the possibilities of not going in and seeing it now, when I'm already here, and being burdened with these things and not free to enjoy myself. The entrance is a kind of big tunnel, short, call it more like an underpass - you arrive at it from a residential street (nice place too); on somebody's lawn, quite large, one of those rises off the street but not too high. There are people outside, just hanging around talking, and you can see the Faire through the tunnel. I think I've made up my mind to go ahead and take advantage while I'm here but I get halfway in and decide this is not practical and I can wait long enough to go get more comfortable. I'm fighting a fear that it'll go away if I leave now. I can picture myself inside, looking up at a display (like the earring lady's) - everything looks more like a carnival. I'm in a very large room - gym-size - in an institution, perhaps - and there are lots of people (all more or less my age) who, I think, have to do with LT. There are bathroom-stalls set up inside the room in long rows and it may be morning and everybody has bathroom-stuff to do. Lots of movement. I'm looking for a free stall because I have to use the toilet, and I find one at the end of a row. These have 2 doors, one each side. The other door is open, and there's another girl in here. (These are 2-person stalls, you see: they have sinks and mirrors and so forth, too, actually quite nice), and I ask her to shut the other door. Which she does. That's all. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm on a bus with a couple of guys - one's the regular driver, nice neighborly sort of guy, and the other may be my father and I may be a kid. [Hard to say, but my relationship with these people is I'm younger and along for the ride. They're the ones with business to take care of.] This is a small town, I think. Lots of trees. People know each other. Friendly. This bus is a school bus, but it's Saturday and there's no school, so we're going someplace else instead. Involves leisure, but I don't know quite what. I'm sitting up front with the driver, looking at a newspaper propped up on the dashboard. It has an article in it about a kid, a boy maybe 10, with a picture. Dorky looking. The article says the kid did something interesting - or he may be missing. Anyway somebody's a little bit concerned about him. We go through a couple of nice residential streets (I think we started in a little green-surrounded parking lot of a small office or similar building) and we come to a shopping center. It's really cute, with an eclectic design to it, and interesting little shops. It's an outside-oriented place, not a mall, you park in the middle, but today they've got things hanging on string all over the parking area. They're things from the shops, I guess, fun stuff, as a display, but there's rather a lot of them and the driver has to maneuver through them. It's rather tricky and they get thicker the further you go. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I live in a little house a bit like Grandmom's - that style, wood floors and screen doors, not fancy. I've called a TV repairman earlier, to come and fix a TV set, but haven't fixed a time (or a price, I think). I'm just now coming home to find this guy in the middle of my living-room floor, working on another set than the one I asked about. I'm very disturbed about his being there without my knowing about it. I ask him who let him in, but don't get an answer. He seems to think this is all perfectly normal and I'm bothering him. The furniture's mostly gone from the living room and I'm thinking burglary, but he says he moved it because he needed the room. He's worked on several things so far, including things other than TV sets. I'm quite incensed about the whole thing and we go back and forth about it. I point out that I didn't order anything else done and I didn't want it done and won't pay for it. I don't think he has any excuse beyond "I wasn't told what to fix so I fixed what was broken", but still I'm worried I'll have to pay, and I'm really anxious to find out how he got in here. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm on a bus, going to the dentist, across an open space. I have with me a yellow air tank that I just bought, and I've pulled the "cap" off of it by accident and it's bounced over to the other side. I'm going to go find it; a couple of men come in, one older, one younger but not very, and they take my seat. I figure I'll go tell them, at least get my tank back and they can stay there, but I'm putting it off for a minute while I (chat with somebody?)...I see the guy, the younger one, nearest the window, lift up the tank - they're talking about who left it there? and so on, and the guy throws it out the window. He thinks it's abandoned and it's in his way. I'm not positive that's what he's done, so I don't immediately jump on him, but I'm looking out the back window to see it. There's too much in the way. I can't see it yet, but then something yellow bounces into view. I'm extremely perturbed but not sure I want to confront this guy. After a few minutes I decide it's worth it, so I go tell him the tank was mine. He's sort of half-sorry (but only half - he's more amused at me). I tell him I paid $12 and something for it and I'd appreciate being reimbursed. He says he will and starts to reach in his pocket. We're getting near my stop, though, and I'm worried I'll miss it because he's taking so long. I've almost decided I'll have to give it up and get off because I have to make my appointment. But the bus stops, anyway, and we're all off now, in a large waiting room that looks like it used to be a high-school gym. We're all scattered around. I guess it's like a stagecoach rest stop or something, the journey's to continue soon. People are milling around, some in groups. I make my way over to the two men and ask for my money again. While I'm doing that, I'm noticing the door on the far side of the room, it goes to a hallway with offices coming off it, and the first one is my dentist's office. I also see a clock and discover that it's only just turned 7.00, the time of my appointment - I've made it, and I can be a couple of minutes late, he's probably not finished with the last patient. The guy still hasn't given me my money, though, and we're walking across the room toward the door, casually. At one place we stop and talk, but I'm very distracted by the exhibition next to me. A pretty girl with dark curly shoulder-length hair is on her back on the floor and she has clothes on, but her skirt is pulled up high enough to see her abdomen and somebody else is over her pushing on something - with her hands - very hard, hard enough to puff. I can't quite see what she's pushing on, though. It's a lot like CPR but not being done on the heart. There's someone else there, too, doing something, I guess, but maybe just watching. I saw them before, but it seemed then like it must be some form of exercise. Now I can see her face better and also pubic hair and by George I think it's some strange form of sex! I guess the others must not be taking any notice of it - nobody's told them to stop. The clock is now at 7.02, and the dentist and his nurse come out to say goodbye to the previous patient. Later, I'm back in my apartment when there's a knock on the door. It's daylight, so I go to the matchstick blinds and look out to see who's there. I'm pretty sure it's the man from the bus, and he's holding a "Meerschaum" pipe up to the window so I can see it. I recognize it and go to let him in - he must have decided he'd buy me a pipe instead of giving me the money. I'd mentioned in conversation that I liked them, but I really don't need one. I think he's a jerk anyway. When I open the door, he asks to come in and I reluctantly let him, but I won't close the door. I push something, a flat box, across the sill with my feet, and mention we have to watch to see the cat doesn't get out. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I've just gotten home from school - I live in this house with my Mom and Dad [not my real ones - a fairly nice pair of sitcom parents, we're loving and close]; I'm young but not little, and my attitude is light, cheerful; it's a nice day. I open the front door of the house, which is not facing the street but sideways to it; I had to pass between the side of the house and (the garage?) to come to the front door. There's a man inside the door; he's obviously broken in and is waiting to do me harm. I drop my book and run. I run back around to the street, screaming for help. Across the street a woman opens her front door, first a crack, then she comes out - now there's somebody else out, maybe others. I stop and look around; the man's not following me. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm looking for a boy - I'm my own age, probably, but he's around 20 - I'm asking a girl about him - she's trying to look him up in the phone book, under Smith, (Bobby?); then I call and ask for him, and he says the name was Williamson, and he recognized me. I'm surprised. Now we're together; I haven't seen him in years, I'm glad to be visiting with him, it's comforting to be back in my old home (town? neighborhood?) for a while. We went to feed his cats in a big old barn - it's dark; (we? I? he?) put(s) the light on. I pet the cat, and a friend of his comes in - she's a big, farm-girl type with long blonde hair and overalls or jeans and a (plaid shirt?). She offers us each a hamburger and brings them in. My friend complains that his hasn't got any trimmings on it; she says she's been working hard and he's lucky to get one. Mine, however, is big and has a lot of stuff on, kind of clumsy, as a matter of fact. She served them in bowls. My feelings are warm, friendly, welcoming, grateful, overall very pleasant attitude. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm driving a car, going into town on a road,there's some structure nearby overhead, and this may be a bridge. I'm by myself, got business somewhere, on my way. Not anxious or excited or up or down, just okay all the way around. Daytime, sky's a trifle overcast, weather calm. I'm in a train or bus station (about where Union Station really is) looking at a display of Dad watches. I intend to choose one but haven't decided. They're mostly all alike, large faces, maybe oval, with wide, colorful bands, some bright solids, some flowery patterns and plaids. [They remind me of the new shorts I've got, especially the pink and black flowered ones.] This is not a crucial matter, but I'd like to get it out of the way so I can get on with my business, and I am taking rather longer than I thought to decide. I can't actually see other people from here, though I'm aware there are some around. The display rack is sort of tucked in a corner, this is rather a tired little excuse for a station gift shop. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm lying in a large upholstered chair; Tom is nearby, and a female (unidentified). I'm shifting around in the chair and the upholstery tears and the seat sinks. I'm frightened, it's as though I'm going to fall into the chair and (drown? hurt myself?)Tom goes for help. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
As part of a trip to England, I'm visiting Pete Townsend, being taken by a man who'll introduce us; this is prearranged. We knock on the bedroom door [this house is kinda long and rangy, certainly not very English, I think it's on some water] and he answers - still asleep, really, very groggy, goes back in. I go to a forward room and look around, and then he comes out waked up and we visit. He's been to my place at home, earlier, when I wasn't there. I tell him about [gardens? "gardits"? can't read, don't remember] - he'd talked to an older man there, I don't know him. We go around to another room [a living room, I think, with a view] - his wife comes in, we're introduced - I ask her if she went to the Renaissance Faire that they had in London, and she says yes, she quite liked it. I'm glad. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm at a restaurant with Bill Wold and another male - (I'm? we're? they're?) harassed by the waiters about another girl. We all leave; Bill and I are going back to the Center. I'm going on the bus; Bill calls a friend to come pick him up. [We'd been sitting outside at an umbrella table.] The bus is slow and it's cumbersome getting off. Bill isn't here yet. I go to a room at the Center, where there's something that wants protecting. I've gotta wait for Bill and this door won't latch properly. The hook's too high for the loop. I try to keep the door pushed to, but it's too much effort. Bill and his friend nearly bust the latch off getting the door open. Then I'm being chased by a man in a mask, on a residential street. I run, yelling for help - a woman looks out of her door, then steps out, then others do the same. The man turns and leaves. Then I'm in a very strange public restroom with a central/circular configuration of toilet stalls with high- and low-separated partitions - you can see other women's upper bodies. I look at a couple of pairs of very pointy tits, extremely curious. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in an apartment with some LT people - we've been together for a while, been somewhere and come back. This place has a lot of people in it (not this apartment, the whole building) and there's a lot of activity going on outside. It's maybe dusk. There's some sort of commotion outside. I'm near the front door anyway, trying out a key (yet another old key I've been handed - it's got 3 fronts to it, they're all scratched up and bent backwards but I couldn't see that at first). As I look at it I can see it won't work, and I see how soft the metal is and it breaks off and so I do that some more for fun. I'm talking to 2 guys at the same time. The noise outside sort of erupts, I think, and we go look. MB is here, too, and as we look over the wall of the outside walkway (we're upstairs) there's other people ding around. It reminds me of a movie scene of a Mongol camp or something - I might've seen cookfires and tent-tops if I'd looked around. Down below, there's a couple of cops all dressed in motorcycle gear with helmets and goggles, apprehending a couple of bad guys. One of the cops hits a bad guy just because he didn't like the way he looked, I guess, or he said something the cop didn't like. Anyway it was unwarranted. He had the guy by the collar and swung his arm way up and around and hit him in the face. I was appalled. I think he would have beaten up the guy if there hadn't been witnesses. I was feeling very disturbed, and thought I hadn't ever actually seen anything violent happen before. [Though that's not true.] While we're there, MB gets up on the wall rather clumsily, and I'm afraid she'll fall, which she does. I get rather upset at this, even though I know it's unlikely she'll get hurt, because there's so many people and things below. I call out to them to help her out. However, when I look over, I see there's some kind of awning not far down and she's on that, starting to climb back up. It's a struggle but she does it. Oh good. I'm relieved. We all go back in after the cops get ready to take the bad guys away. Inside is, I think, really Sue S.'s apartment, and she likes having company, she likes having movement and people doing things. We come here after a Training, for instance, to do LT tasks/activities and be together. It varies, how many of us, and we come in and go out at intervals. I'm talking to a couple of people, one of whom is a pregnant blonde girl, who got that way because she's going with a guy that I'm in love with, which is rather frustrating for me. It certainly reinforces my self-consciousness. I'm feeling anxious, deprived, small, weak, pitiful. I go down the hall to Sue's room for some reason, can't remember what, but I don't want anybody to see me obviously poking around. I also want to spit, the way I do when I cough something up, and don't want anyone to see that. Someone (large, female, like Sabina) looks in at the door and says something, though, and I have to hold it. Starts to go away, I start to spit, she Dads back, etc. I give up. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in a department store. It's big and probably being remodelled, things are not where they should be and it's very unfinished-looking. They're having a huge sale and I'm aiming at some fur coats they're announcing, 50 only, something like $500. I'm not moving very well, I'm stiff and like it used to be with my legs. I have an ice cream cone or a dish or something, it's chocolate, partially melted. A couple comes up behind me and wants past. I'm in a place where I can't just dodge them, so I go on forward, but they jostle past me anyway. They don't push me over but since I can't get my footing quick enough I fall over, my stuff spills - I had other things to carry, too. I feel anger, suddenly, and outrage, and I want to punish the guy. (It was his voice I heard as they pushed by me, and he certainly didn't care about seeing what happened to me.) I want to push the ice cream into his face. I lie there for a minute, seething, then I get up with difficulty, scoop up some of the ice cream, and go after him. It takes a bit, but I find him, I think. He's sitting somewhere, maybe like at tables, or some seats lined up inside a walled-off area (waist-high, you can lean over it). He's in front of another man and they face the wall. This is maybe in a sporting-goods section. Dead-end part of the store. I'm not 100% certain he's the same guy, but I think he is. Got a beard and short hair - my age or a bit younger, slender. I confront him and the conversation is odd. He obviously doesn't think there's anything wrong and won't answer me, but the guy in back does. At least I think he does. Then I think it's my guy but he's not moving his lips, or I don't see him do it. I'm aware that it might be the wrong guy but by now I'm so worked up I no longer care. I grab him, rub my handful of ice cream in his face and leave. I'm afraid he'll follow me, so I move fast. When I know he can't see me I run a few feet, then slow down and walk, then dodge over an aisle or round something, speed up, slow down. Still aiming for the fur coats. I didn't get one but, leaving, I'm going down Hillcrest with somebody and we stop and visit with a large blonde guy who, when he hears of my infirmity, offers to work on me some. Massage, maybe, or something more exotic, I don't know. Another time I'm at my mother's. I'm putting something back into a container - been out for a while and I thought this was supposed to be cold but it's not now. There are cookie-things lined up in a tray - they look loose but they're stuck together with something, I thought ice cream and it would be melted but it's not, it's marshmallow. I want one but I know it'd show and I expect she's got them counted and it would throw things off. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
Lou Ann and June at the office - Judy and somebody have been to a program down the street somewhere on lunch hour and Lou Ann thinks she won't have time but wants to go. I encourage her. Place has a hallway, looks like a newspaper or somewhere you have drafting tables. Then I'm getting a job laying out and painting lines on a parking lot for a little old building - there are men around, I think the ones that hired me, they're not too informative. I meet a guy who invites me to a buffet lunch at a place like a country club. We chat at the table with some other people while they're setting things out. I'm a little confused about his interest in me, and this place, too - is it really something he's treating me for, or could I have come here myself? Can I really eat what I want, or do you snack? This might be a fashion show or something. While we're getting our food, Becky and Lisa show up, they're on their lunch hour from work. Now I know the place has some exclusive overtones at least or Becky wouldn't be here. We say hello and talk about the food. I get a paper plate from a stack - a 2nd choice - and find it's smaller than the other, so I get another one and remark on that. I like this guy I'm with. I hope I see more of him - not sure about his feelings for me though. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I've moved into a house - it's a nice little one-story frame house, not so terribly old, like VKian, as to have a style - more like a plain farm house-y look. Cabinets built-in, with screen doors, layers of paint, sturdy, darkish inside right now, late afternoon. I like it a lot. I may or may not have been planning to live with a roommate, but I certainly didn't know a bunch of LT people were going to live here too. They start arriving, and I'm quite concerned about this - I'm feeling deprived and disappointed, but looking at it objectively, maybe it will be fun and productive. However, something dawns on me all of a sudden, and far too late: I'm a long way away from work - this place is some such distance anyway, and I've got to drive to work! No bus! and it's so far! It'll take all morning to get to work. Damn. My mind pictures the road - it's as if this house is out in the country, and the road to town will be 2-lane, no development, most of the way, and I'm thinking maybe it won't be as bad as all that, with no lights and so on. But I'm feeling panicky all the same, not about the drive but about having moved in here without knowing these things and it's too late to back out. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm somewhere away from home, driving a (jeep-Bronco-sort-of-thing like Lori's), with a baby - maybe a toddler - for a passenger. We're going somewhere for an outing, just starting, and I'm realizing I have to go back for something. It may be just to put makeup on, because I haven't done that today. We go back to the kid's house - not mine - I'm staying there as a guest, and this outing is in the nature of babysitting. The house is rather suburban ranch-style, one floor, attached garage, rather upscale, yucca plants and stone outside. I pull up next to the garage, and a man either comes out or is waiting and takes the kid inside. He's maybe a friend of the family, or a relative, middle-aged, nice, helpful. I'm sitting in the driver's seat, taking out some toner and a cotton ball - I think I'll try to get my makeup off in the car, dash in and throw a face on - we're actually not so much in a hurry, but we want to make this stop quick and get back on the road. I decide the toner isn't such a great idea and get out of the car. When I open the door, a can (or something - it sounds like a can) falls out and rolls into the open garage. There are large hanging things (the size of meat carcasses, but they're not). I'm concerned about having to dig around in there to find anything, especially if it's just an empty can, but a couple of steps and I see there's not that much on the floor and the can is just a little way under something. I get it and bring it back, and go on into the house. The house is furnished the way the outside looks - rather like Joan's - semi-modern, slightly upscale, open space, clean, glass table tops. The parents of this kid are a youngish couple that match the house - she's got shoulder-length blonde hair and looks nonchalant. They're just sitting down to dinner and they say as long as we're here, why not just stay and eat, then go back out? Sounds pretty sensible to me. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in my apartment, maybe asleep, but I've been in the bedroom a while and I have a funny feeling about someone being in the other room, I'd better check. I picture in my mind some things being gone, like the TV. But I go in and find almost everything gone - the shelves, even, that the TV was on - all wiped out, silently, while I was asleep. I'm sad, at a loss - I feel bereft and don't know what to do. It's as though this was visited on me as a kind of punishment or justice. I walk around a bit but mostly just look at where things have been, thoughts running through my mind, like, I wonder if I'll get the things back - what will I do to replace them - will I be able to replace them - I feel exposed, stripped, violated, taken. I go back into the other room. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I live in a big ritzy hotel in a city. My family and a lot of other people I know live here too. I'm leaving soon for somewhere else and I'm packing, gathering things up, and seeing people. I'm in my parents' place, doing something in the kitchen (it's an apartment setup, with a tiny kitchen separated from the living room by a counter), like mixing up cat food. I transfer something to another container - I don't like the taste of it but I don't have a lot of time, so I'll take it along and deal with it later. I go outside with my father and some other people to put things in the car. There's some reason why this doesn't work out - maybe I've forgotten the keys, or the car's not here. I see several more friends, however, including Don, who comes along back inside with me. Inside there's a lot of different places to go, like any big hotel, and I choose an elevator bank to go upstairs. As we leave the elevator, rounding a corner, we nearly run into Cindy, who's stopped because she's dropping things. (There's a lot of people, bumping elbows.) Before I fall over from running into her, Don puts an arm around my waist and steadies me. I see Cynthia's dropped her watch (a standard-size, round dial, yellow band, design on it) and I exclaim, "Oh, Cindy, you've dropped your watch - I'll get it" or something to that effect. So I stoop for it, but it gets kicked away once or twice. Seems very odd to me, as though all sorts of things are being thwarted for no reason. Anyway, we leave her and go on down the hall, which doesn't look right to me. I realize I've taken the 2nd elevator bank again, rather than the 3rd, to get to my place. I exclaim as much, again, frustrated. Don says, "Oh, well, you'll get there, all you have to do is cut through there", which is a big open office behind double glass doors. Regular office workers, men in shirtsleeves, wearing ties. I go on through and find the hotel store on the other side. I'm surprised, having forgotten how big a store it was. It's kind of dark, has eclectic things like old-timey decor and a few arcade games. Other side of the store is a restaurant. The operation doesn't have walls. I think briefly that I've never been here, but now that I see it I realize I have too, it's just that I haven't been here in a long time. I thread my way through the little round tables to the open hallway and the next elevator bank. There's a waiter here who asks if he can help me. I'm briefly embarrassed because I'm having a little trouble finding my way through the tables. [By the way, Don went on back to his place down the hall where the office was.] I go on to my place. On the way, I'm aware of something that's mine, that's elsewhere in the building, I'll have to get it. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
In my apartment (looks like this one), I'm with the cats (there are 3), and they're having a pretty good time with the packing up. They keep bringing me things, including chain headpieces I'd forgotten about. All of a sudden I look and they've brought something else. The last is a large beaded one I swear I didn't know I had. It's long, and has biggish red and blue beads, very outlandish for that sort of thing but quite impressive. There's a noise; we all look up, but it was short and we ignore it. But a little time passes and now I hear the front door squeaking. It's creaking as though it were open and swinging a bit. [We're in the bedroom, and the door's supposed to be shut, probably latched, but maybe it isn't!] I'm very alarmed, and crawl on my hands and knees silently to the bedroom door to look out. The door's open, all right, and swinging, you see daylight all around. But nobody there, which is a relief. I turn back to the cats, then back to the door, which I mean to get up and close. But now there's somebody standing between me and it - a short, black figure, skinny - maybe a human black child, but with the sun glare behind him it's hard to see. It doesn't really look like a child, and it's definitely hostile. I can't see that it's wearing clothes, either. I'm frightened, knowing it's here to rob, but will attack me now that it knows someone's here. I barely have time to think all this and wonder what to do, before it runs at me through the door. I trip it with my body - after all, I am on the floor, and it goes down headfirst with its legs in the air, which I grab. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
The place I am is either the library or a school or both - I both work here and am taking a "class" here (I think). I'm supposed to turn in a report of some kind, but I haven't done the work yet - I haven't had time. I need a piece of information, about how long was the average hospital stay of wounded soldiers in WWI (or is it II?), and I haven't found it yet. I'm in a room where I'm meant to be working, and not looking at books, but - as you know - if I see one I want to flip through it, see what it is. The book I've been looking at is open on the table - it's rather kid-oriented, lots of pictures and broken-up page formats, I look over the pages but I still don't see what I want. There's a lot of other books on this table, most of them old, looking like rebinds, I think they're all kid's books. I'm looking at the titles and find one that strikes me fancy, so I set it aside to look at later. [I'm not sure if it's that book or another, but I am looking at one more closely - it has to do with how to live with your family, in various situations - humorous style, like so many kid's books are in order to help get the point across.] I'm a bit frustrated, knowing I don't have time to get everything done and I'd rather just read for enjoyment. I realize I'll just have to be late with the report, it won't get done in time. Oh, I guess I could do the rest of the report without that information, but I want to get it all in having once thought of it. The old doubts creep in - am I indulging myself in perfectionism, or whatever it is? Do I have to do it thoroughly or not at all? Is it not all right not to do well? Or is this information really necessary and if I just applied myself wouldn't I get it right? Have I been lazy? Nuts. Anyway something different distracts me. Lisa's kite has gotten repaired and we're going to fly it. It's a standard kite-shape and blue - don't know what was wrong with it, but it was taken away for repair before we ever got it up and now this is a big event. I'm turning around and seeing that there are other people here, a fair number. We've gone into another room. This school is built like a stone park pavilion. It's a long open place with walls in between rooms but a walkway all along one (or both?) side(s). This, one end, is a kind of theater-room. It has a puppet stage and a couple of openings underneath it that lead backstage, they're curtained, one red, one blue, plain cotton, and an adult could get through them by getting on hands and knees. The people with me, it seems like they've come to observe or inspect something - we're facing the stage-end of the room. Without stage-sets or anything, you can see through to the outside. The rest of the room is empty except maybe for some props. There's a woman here, who looks something like Eleanor Parker - business suit, aloof, short hair, slightly disapproving, a taskmaster. There are a few people behind the stage. So the business of the kite comes up. People are gathering to see it go, and I'm wondering where Lisa is. Won't she want to be here? I see Becky come up, didn't she get Lisa someone to relieve her? Becky's looking very ritzy herself - hair in a classy knot on the back of her head. I go down the passage to see if I see Lisa - she's at the other end. For some reason I don't want Becky to know what I'm doing so I keep an eye out, and just casually step inside the room sideways rather than walking straight in. There's a lot of people in here - they seem to be at long benches crosswise in the room - I think they're all adults - it's not a class, exactly, but more organized than a library. Lisa is up at the front, helping people (pretty much as she does as a librarian), and I wave to her, mouthing the word "kite" and pointing. She sees and gestures a response - I guess she'll be coming when she can. I go back down to where we'll be flying the kite. There's a nice lot of people gathered, we're staying back under the roof of the building mostly, and looking out to where they've got the kite. It's a bare place with some "dunes", little hills, tufts of grass on. There's maybe 3 or 4 guys out there with the kite, very gung-ho. I notice Becky has her hair down now, I go back to an opening in a wall sort-of-place, where there's a bit of fence closing off the pavilion opening, and there's some bushes and other plants. I duck under and go up to the fence. There's another couple of people there, friends - one of them is a good-looking young man who's somebody's husband, and one of those people I privately daydream about. He's perched on a ledge and I go past him to my own position. Lisa still hasn't made it yet, but they seem to be determined to carry on anyway. The sky is clouding over, fast - it's getting darker by the minute and frankly even if it doesn't rain we won't even be able to see the kite if it gets up. But they're going on anyway. They start to run with it and bustle around, but can't get it up. Then I see a light, hear a click, don't know what it is at first - then I see what's happening. Since there isn't enough wind they're lighting a lighter underneath the kite to try to make hot air to lift it. This is stupid, of course, but I can't see any way of stopping them. What I'm afraid of is they'll set fire to the kite. I remark as much to my friends. They don't stop, of course, and the sky gets blacker and stormier and they disappear behind a dune on the left and there's a "pfft" sound that I recognize. It's the kite going up, of course, and that's all she wrote. There won't be anything left to save - that kind of flimsy paper just goes all at once. What a drag after all that work. Damn. And Lisa still isn't here, doesn't have any idea what happened. Blah. So we all start away from where we're watching, and wander on back to wherever. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm visiting somewhere with others, staying at a large place where people do a lot of things, one of which is going to school. Everybody lives here in the complex, students, administrators, teachers, etc. There's an event going on, rather like a graduation, because there are groups of kids in cap-and-gown around. My group is here to facilitate in some way, like members of the wedding, and we're getting ready to leave. I'm going into this room/wing to fetch my brother. The part I was just in looked like a school. This looks more like an apartment, with a kitchen sink and books and chairs. He's been lounging in here, making a mess, and it wants cleaning up. I tell him to...[The sequence of events is no longer clear. I'm guessing.]...start picking up and he farts around, so I do it, but for one reason or another - somebody bumps me or something - I end up with a mess too. I leave it with some other people and go outside (which is still inside, you see, but there's dirt here, and some planting going on) and start to poke around in the dirt. I'm just doing a little spadework to pass the time until we get going again - there's quite a lot of people around - those groups of kids, some parents visiting their kids, people having discussions, and so on. Presently some of my companions come up and we're going to go see about a young couple we know - I think these people are one of 'em's parents, or other relative, and they've just gotten married. They live in a room down this hall here. We knock, and go in. He's sitting on the bed - looks like Rob Lowe - she's sitting (on the floor?) at the end and there's at least one other visitor. We all chat happily for a bit - I think the older ones leave. By the way, she looks like Demi Moore - they're a fine match. During some event like fetching something from under the bed or bookcase where it fell, Rob pulls out a nasty-looking reptile hanging on by his pointy teeth to a paper or book. He's a lot like the "monster-sticks" in Labyrinth they were biting Ludo with. Pinkish, big head, little legs, vicious. He gets it up on the bed, but nobody knows what to do with it. You certainly don't want to pick it up. He's poking at it a bit, though, and I don't think it's funny at all. He might get bitten. Somehow it gets closer to me. I think he knocks or flips it and it ends up near me and I'm nearly panicking. I try to back away and say things like "Help me! Get it away from me!" and there's some confusion and when I look round again everybody's gone. Somehow I do get bitten by the thing, and it hurts, There's something thrashing around and a bit of calling for help and somebody does come, and it gets off me. I don't know what happened to it. It's not visible, but I don't know if somebody took it away, or it ran away. There's somebody with me, I'm gasping, looking around, paranoid, hoping there's not more.
I've got a splinter in my hand from thrashing around, which I'd thought for a minute was a bite or a sting, maybe poisonous. I see what it is now and pull it out. It's actually very large and sticking out. Funny. At some point I am reading an entertainment guide, or some such thing. (I think this is after the above.) And I find that Pete Townsend's going to be in town soon. I am real excited about this, and then when I look it over and see that it's better than that (he's doing a musical, for about a week!) I'm even more thrilled. I think maybe there's a chance I could meet him - but it's not that long away. It's very unusual that he'd be doing a show like that, it will be quite interesting to see how it turns out. He's probably doing it for the novelty, to see what it's like. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm on a residential street, old-style, like maybe Grandmom's, and I'm outside, going to some other people, I guess I'm trying to catch up with them, except I stop at my brother's house, about midway on the right (my left) and find he's very sick. I shout after the others to come and help me, we've got to get him a doctor, but they don't hear me. I run after them and they won't turn back. I'm extremely upset, not knowing what to do without somebody to help, and these people want me to go with them, saying it's not that bad and somebody else will take care of it. But instead I go back and find that another person has come - female, I know her but she's not close - and called an ambulance and they're here and things are being taken care of. I have to help my brother to the ambulance - he can just hold himself up with assistance. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm visiting my "grandmother's" house with MB (I think it's her) and I've been out. I come back to find my "brother" and his family (wife and small son) have also come for a visit, and he's still up. I come in the front hallway; the refrigerator is standing in it, disconnected. I can see, actually, that there's more than one about; it's as if someone had been trying to find one that works - they're all pretty old, and the one that is connected (in the other room now) is real small, black, sits on 4 legs and looks like an ice chest. Out in the hall there's also a styrofoam cooler with some of the food in it, including the cat food. I come in hoping my grandmother won't get up, but she does - she's anxious to blame the refrigerator situation on me and anybody else who's handy. My brother doesn't seem to be doing anything but taking up space - he's got a book, or something else, he's absorbed in. I go to my room to get MB and bring her out to feed her. I have to watch carefully to see she doesn't get into things/places she's not supposed to, including my grandmother's bedroom. She's very inquisitive and easily distracted. Later (daytime now) I go out with some friends. I'm not at all sure what we were doing, but where we are is right next to a large group of people, having a fighter practice/revel in an empty lot on a little business street with one-story brick buildings. They're across the street from us, on a corner. I'm talking to a girl next to me about them - she suggests I go on over there, since I'm so interested. I am interested, in that they are having a very good time, but carousing like crazy. Of course I think they don't look very medieval, but then I wonder what a real medieval carouse would have been like. Hmm. I say I don't have anything to wear and she says there's something here, I can use that. Where we are reminds me of a beach house, or some such thing - we're in a front part, something that corresponds to a porch, then there's a hall with a recess, then another room, then outside and sunlight. I think it belongs to a guy - he's in the back. I try pulling something off to try this garment on. (I think the guy sitting next to us is going, too.) Can't get very far with it without taking more off, so I go down the hall to that recess. Through a door is a small space where I can take my dress off, but the door doesn't lock. I'm a bit worried about somebody coming through and once somebody does, but I turn away holding my top up. There's a television in here, I guess - this guy remarks on the show that's on - it's a new sitcom called "Beach Party", starring Adrian Zmed, about the usual sort of funny-youth-romance sorts of thing. The subject of this show is that one of his friends can't work up the nerve to ask this girl out. I'm aware of the show and that it's only been on a short while and already been cancelled. I remark to the guy that I've never seen it at all and I wonder how come they didn't show it there. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in the Circulation office at work, sort of "borrowed" because they need help and I can spare the time, also as a trial to see if I want to go back to work here. It's not like it really is - it's an old, wood place with wood furniture, mostly dark and used-looking, maybe some painted, kind of like an office would have been in the 30's or 40's, but the computers are here and it's very busy. There's a lot of people here, a lot of them quite young, and I get the impression it's like a school or a family, and the older "kids" bring up the younger ones. I seem to be looked up to here. Alma really wants me to come back, because she needs my experience and talents. I'm feeling happy, needed, enthusiastic, optimistic; I like it here and it seems like I've come back home. At one point I'm sitting at a table with some other people and Mildre comes by. She's reporting the results of my evaluation or something, it had been some kind of joint effort of all the administrators. They'd all had a turn talking to me, then gave me a grade. Mildred says that I'd done very well overall, everybody gave me very nice grades except that she's given me a C- because of the way my attitude changed when we started to talk about [evaluations?] I'd become sullen and [?], she says. But it wasn't enough to pull the whole average down, so I passed anyway. I resent this a little, but then I resent this whole examination process - as though all these people are such big shots they get to pass judgment on little insignificant me. But Mildred and I are friends and I know she's just doing her job the best she knows how. Later I'm out in a car looking for a friend of mine - don't know her name but she's blonde. I finally find her in a spot, more like it used to be (this neighborhood is old, too). I pull the car into the little driveway and get out to talk to her. We've got someplace to get to right away and it's taken me a while to find her. She agrees to come with me, and I start off on foot around the corner on the sidewalk. The little street is just a sort of tiny neighborhood shopping corner, has some awnings - it's closer-in than Cedar Springs. I've gone a little way down the street and I see she's not with me, so I turn back. When I step around the corner, I'm face-to-face with an enormous black bull, fighting mad. I'm stunned and stand very still for a second, then back up slowly. As I get around the corner again, there's people around, and I start to warn them. Then the bull comes around the corner too, but slowly, and another, smaller, one comes with it. Everybody, including me, starts to run down the street. I crash into things but get up and keep running. I don't know what's happened to my friend. It looks as if she's hiding out and never meant to come with me at all - maybe she sent the bulls. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in a house, I think I've been renting and I'm moving out. It's old and weatherbeaten and the roof leaks. Right now that's the issue of the moment. I've found it's leaking in the bedroom corner again and some other places I hadn't known about. This is getting really desperate. I'm looking in a big closet, that I usually don't use, for something to catch leaks and find the wrong sorts of things. I have to come through the back of a very big room which is being used for a dress rehearsal of a musical show. The floor is filled with people dancing a routine in fancy dress. I'm in this show somehow. I'm being Robin Hood, which isn't just a part in a play. It seems to be a sort of SOCIETY FOR CREATIVE ANACHRONISM-role with a regular band of men to lead and all, sort of clubby. I'm taking it over from Bill (I don't know if it's permanent or not), and when I see him back outside of the room in another part of the house he says he'd meant to call a meeting of Little John and the others but hadn't had time. We get in a van by a side door; we're talking about somebody else and I mention some car models this guy and I built. When I go to pull them out to show Morgan I knock them on the front floor and exclaim something, but I'm not actually worried about it. The cars - three - are mainly intact. I pick them up and then scoop up some debris from the floor and take it into the kitchen (we're right at it) and throw it away. Back in the van I see bits and pieces on the floor that belong on the cars (and some that may not, like a teeny plastic toilet) and sort them out. Then I realize there's some other things missing and I must have put them in the trash. I go get them out. When I do, I pull out a spider web stuck on the end of the paper, with a fly dangling from it. I remark that there's one spider who doesn't waste any time, and scrape the web back in the bag. I find the pieces, little headlights and so on, and take them back to the van. Morgan goes off somewhere and I'm pondering what it means to be Robin Hood. I'm still dealing with leaks, though, and when I'm looking again somebody breaks in. [I'm not clear on this point - did they knock at the door and break in when I answered, or did they break in and find me first?] It's 2 men - one older, in a suit, short grey hair, executive-looking. The other is a younger, not-very-scruffy, henchman. They want something I don't have, I don't know what, and I'm really quite scared, but as we go down a big wide hall I somehow thwart them and get the gun away from them. I point it at them and they run away. I open it up to take the bullets out - I don't really know how and may not be doing it right, but at least some are out. It opens up lengthwise on hinges and seems to be padded inside like a jewellery box. I'm worried they may come back after it and hide it up high somewhere.
At some point I go through a room where a friend of mine is talking to her young daughter. [I think it must be Brenda, though I'm not sure, but only because I think the kid is Angela.] She's renting the place from me (remember, I'm moving out?) and the daughter is cleaning up this room. There's another room being built right next to this one, and she says that they'll (her husband and her) be sleeping in that one, even though it's smaller and not as nice, because the daughter wants this one, but she's going to have to get the hardwood floor in condition first. It's been left to itself and looks terrible, but it's very solid and well-made. She gets down to look at the width of the boards and seems to think that's a sign of a good wood floor, the newer ones use wider strips. I don't know.
Later I'm in a department store at the perfume counter. I'm looking in particular at one scent, noticing the bottle I'm holding has an extra name on it (like they do so often now - a standard name is used with a "surname" as though it's a version of the original. When I look at the rest of the packages I see they all have surnames, as if there was no plain one. I wonder if they're just out of the plain one, or they're not making it anymore, or am I mistaken and they never did make a plain one?) The saleslady is still talking to the other customer. I put my purse down and look at some other things. In a minute, I see what I think is my purse up on a shelf behind the counter and I wonder how it got there - did the saleslady put it up there? There hasn't been time, has there? I go down and look, but it isn't my purse at all. For a second I'm disoriented, thinking I've forgotten where I left it - but it's down at the end of the counter, right where I was standing.
I've gone out and I'm walking down a shopping-strip walk when I run (literally) into my brother. He's got a rather New Wave hairstyle. Vicki's with him. He says, you run into people like this a lot? And I say I was looking at the ground (which is true), and didn't see him. Vicki says, you remember you were supposed to be at our house on December 11? And you left too late, or something like that? I say, I think that was the time I thought I knew where I was going and found that I didn't - I stopped at Mom's for directions but she'd already left. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in a place where I work - it's rather like a workshop, a wood building, not very big, small staff - it's rather late to be here, darkening outside, we're leaving for home. I'm taking a cat (MB?) with me because she's sick - I'm going to my house.
I'm driving on an open road - there are other roads that don't quite criss-cross, but curve around each other, and I take the wrong one. I round a curve to the other side of the road to make a [wonky sort of] U-turn by heading into a ditch and turning around again, facing the car out of the ditch. I hope the car will do it. It does. I come back onto the road and among the (very light) traffic from the direction I'm now going comes a guy on a bicycle. He closes in and is ding me - there's something suspicious about him and what he's doing, I think I need to get away from him. I knock him over - by swerving the car or something - and drive on, but I'm sure he gets up and follows me - or at least keeps going my direction. I arrive at my house, and he goes to the house next door.
Inside my house, in a sort of garden room, I can see through a kind of window to the window of the house next door. He's with a group of people, sort of a small party, and he can't see me.
I like this house. It is my house, I live here, but it's as if I don't usually see it this way. I get up and go looking around at things, and the sensation is as though my time here is usually a dream and this time it's real - and the more I think that, the more intense the feeling becomes. [I am still at this writing aware of the sensation, though it's fading.] This isn't a dream at all, I'm really here. I go from room to room - this is a slightly upscale suburban-type house, one story, with untypical-of-me contemporary furniture, carpets, plants, lightish colors, things like apricot and tan and peach or gold. The garden room is not a patio, it's well inside the house with (I think) only one outside wall. It's for relaxation and comfort. There's a good-sized den, the sort that's wide open, kitchen on the other side, long couches and soft carpet, cushions. Then I go to another room that's dark. I find the switch to turn on the lights, but they don't come on. It's pitch black and I can't even see what kind of room it is, but I thought it was a bedroom. It's a little unnerving. I go to the next room and the same thing happens with the lights, but after a minute my eyes begin to adjust and I can see dimly that it's my real bedroom and not in this house at all. I realize that I'm slipping back into the real world. I don't want to, but it's happening too fast to do anything about it. I'm disappointed. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in (an?) apartment with (My brother?) and someone comes to the front door to sell some service - don't know what kind. I certainly don't want it, and I'm rather suspicious of him. But he isn't going away - he's looking towards his companions not far away (in a car?) as though they're getting ready to do something. I shut the door and lock it in several places - it's even 2 doors, and they each have at least 3 locks. My brother comes up, and I explain what just happened. He says he'll take care of it. This has to do with cats (MB?) again. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in yoga class - it's near the end, and the end of the day - dusk is falling and the lights aren't on. [The studio is the same except for a few modifications and some outside windows that aren't there in real life.] We're doing the posture where you sit on your feet and bring your knees up, but we're doing it for a long time. Or supposed to; I haven't got it straight yet and I'm not doing it right. George hasn't noticed for all this time and now it's time to stop. As we're all getting packed up to go, he calls 2 or 3 of us over to see if we can do it better with some props, blankets and things. I don't go first and I do something else (in another room off the studio that isn't there), and when I go back they're putting the things away, so I don't do it. Everybody else is leaving, but I'm hanging around with George, and we go out and downstairs together, talking. At the bottom of the stairs he looks out for his ride, and right away a car pulls into the parking lot, and he says goodbye and goes to it. I say goodbye and look for my own car, which I expect to be in one of the rows on the right side of the building (as you face the street) but I don't see it. I'm not positive just which spot it should be in, but I look up and down and don't see it at all, though there are several small white cars. I continue around to the back of the building, and a bit further, into an empty lot with a few trees and a little shack/house on it. As I come around that, I see an old black man talking to another man (white, I think) who's leaving, and the old man goes on into his shack. There's a kitten outside of it, black and white, I'm seeing it from a distance that I mostly see it as a silhouette, not a personality. It's playing, hard, and jumps up and down. It jumps high once and lands hard on its side, rather as though somebody had slammed it down. But it Dads up again, higher, and this time lands on its feet, slowly and gently. I go on around the building to the front again and find a group of 4 or 6 women under the stairs, one of whom is Susan. They've all come out looking for their cars, and haven't found them, just like me. (It's not one per person, actually, so it's not so many cars as all that.) They're trying to figure out what to do next. It's beginning to look as if they've been stolen. Seems like a foreign idea, but, well, what else could it be? (To tell the truth, we're all behaving as if this is so weird, it must be magic.) I walk back out in the parking lot again and turn around - then I realize I never parked over here at all - I parked in the front, where I usually do, near the bottom of the stairs, facing the building. I had been thinking I parked over here with some friends in the class, but I didn't. I walk back to the front, look, and there's my car, all right. I feel very foolish, but you got to admit it's funny. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm out travelling somewhere (walking or driving?) and come upon a nice little shop, old-timey, sort of middle-aged lady running it. I look at some of her wares. There are laces and linens. Next, I'm arriving at home - I live with my family. My parents have left my sister and me in the house while they're out of town. While I've been out, my sister's had a party. It's a big one, too, the kind where they take over the house and do anything they want. I'm disgusted and appalled. Also insulted and ashamed of my sister. I go to my bedroom. It's a shambles and there are several people carousing in it. I stand looking for a while, then say very forcefully: "This - is - my - bedroom. Get - out - now!" They do, while I stand there and look. Yuck. My sentiment seems to have spread, because everybody's leaving the house. I'm glad, but I am also apprehensive of my sister's reaction - she may be mad at me for running off her friends. But I meet her in the hallway and she's not mad - she's rather relieved, a little ashamed of having it turn out like that. I wonder when Mom and Dad will be home. She says she thinks they're not coming back at all. Next, (we go outside somewhere on the grounds or nearby?) I'm outdoors on a large open lawn where there's a ceremony taking place. There's a lot of people gathered around, and a circle of women in similar costumes: very fancy dresses with huge skirts and I think headdresses. I'm not sure if it's entirely dark outside, but the light isn't daylight anyway, and we're seeing the women as sort of silhouettes. They're changing colors themselves; their whole images, not just the dresses, gradually change in color and pattern (kind of like "transporter" dissolves work). When this is finished, the "lights" come on again and it's daylight. You can now see that the dresses aren't all one color - one group is red, one blue, one black, etc. - I'm not sure how many, but there's 4 or 6 alike in a group, except for the last group at the far end of the circle, whose dresses are varied, some of them even multicolored. These are the head people, like they're in charge of the ceremony. Now they're doing some stuff, some talking. And now the whole thing's over and everybody's leaving. Some have to stay behind to pack up their things - I'm helping somebody (friend? relative?) who took part and there's a small wooden case with drawers to pack up. Something like a tool chest. Then I leave with somebody else. Next I'm driving down a busy street with this person, female, don't know who - don't think she's my sister. The traffic is real fast and I'm driving on the left. It seems like a perfectly normal thing to do until a car comes straight at me. I quickly look around and there's no place to go on my right. It goes through my mind, "Oh, yeah, I forgot I'm in England, they drive on the right here". I close my eyes and cut the wheel hard to the left, thinking it's too late anyway. I may have said something to my companion, like "Brace yourself - we're gonna crash." But we don't. What we do is go down an incline (fairly steep) to the parking lot of a little shopping area. [Where we were driving wasn't open road, but a place something like the high street in a lot of English towns.) We decide we may as well get out and partake of the nearby restaurant as keep on driving in that mess. So we go up to the outside window and get plates of food to take to the patio-sort-of-area. It's not a fast-food joint, but very relaxed and casual. My friend passes in front of a big blondish man. I don't quite see what happens, but he sort of knocks over her food or something, then starts talking to her, all very jovial and what-fun-we're-having. He even takes some of her food and I'm wondering if this isn't some clever form of gregarious panhandling. I am very protective of my own food. Where he's sitting is some steps, next to a brick divider with plants in it, and there's a bit of a place to sit next to that. My friend comes up there an we sit to eat. The man turns toward us and keeps talking. I'm feeling sort of imposed on, but not terribly. He is sort of handsome and rather fun. But I don't want him to eat my food. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
With John Boats and a couple of friends outside near maybe a farmhouse, with trees and sunshine - talking about (something nostalgic?) - a huge machine starts operating - it's for construction of something, like a highway - but it's not supposed to be going now and it's going to smash us all - we run - people scatter - I'm going to try to reach the car. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
Scene in a Training, just setting up - I just arrived and I'm checking for something to do - it's in a kind of theater again, old wood building, dark in the theater area - there's an errand wants running and I'm getting instructions. [Some involvement with the parking lot here - did I go out to it and then not know what to do, or did I come in after being in it and not being sure where to go?] In a store or something - I'm on a landing at the top of some steps (inside the building), where the cash register is - I see George down below and go down a few steps to speak to him. He says he's here to do some [bodywork?] on somebody in the SOCIETY FOR CREATIVE ANACHRONISM - I'm surprised and he says he does this every Training, working on the new lords. I'm shocked - I had no idea that the two were connected at all and that the Training produced SOCIETY FOR CREATIVE ANACHRONISM people, especially not ranks. This is amazing. Later I'm somewhat around the corner from my previous location where I get hold of something with honey on top - the person dispensing it put way the hell too much on it and it's beginning to slide off. I get some on the floor, and awkwardly move around to a white porcelain sink, the kind with white knobs and a curved base. It's all over my hands now and I don't know how I can do anything without making a bigger mess, but eventually I get it all off. Yuck. Then I'm coming to the LT Center, which is in the place where the Bank is - sort of as if it were the spot where the ATM/post office is except you enter from the back. I'm driving a car, and waiting to turn left into the driveway. It's snowing or has been, there are drifts everywhere, idyllic but not much problem. As I wait I see that old man from the library, the volunteer, having just left this place, going along the sidewalk to my left. He seems to be going slowly and carefully, as if he were stiff and feeble. I don't want him to see me, so I keep my head turned the other way as much as I can. Someone else comes along the walk to him and helps him along his way. Then I turn into the drive, back to the parking slots. It's all quiet and snowy back here. My car has turned into a bicycle. I park it between two cars and go in. There's a sort of anteroom with a divider from the lobby, before the offices. [It's as if you came into the Center from the door into the classroom.] There are a lot of people around. I wanted to see Sue but I'm not sure I'll be able to with all this going on. I can hear a typewriter clacking away in the "spare" office. There's a blonde girl on my side of the partition. I know her by name but not so well. We say hello. I have my right elbow up for some reason, and she puts her hand under it and starts lifting me up. It takes a couple of tries before it works right, but then she's lifting me up and down very easily, like lifting a dumbbell - it's fun.......Seems to skip right into me being outside again, everybody else has left and I'm saying goodbye to Sue, she's in her car reversing out of the spot and I'm getting on my bike. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
It's daytime, Sunday morning about nine, and I'm driving down the street on my way to breakfast and laundry. There's construction just after I turn on to the street, and a black man, fairly thin, wearing a workshirt, short hair, grouchy face, jeans, is standing in the right-hand lane in just the position where I have to edge around him into the traffic, which is heavy and a little dodgy because of the construction stuff. He could move easier than I can get around him, but he just stands there with his arms crossed in front of him, looking sullen, like "Dare me - go on, hit me". I do get around him, and still have to keep slow because this man and woman are dashing across the street, not at the crosswalk, but in a very awkward place and everybody has to stop or dodge them. Honestly. I pass a restaurant in the middle of the road, a small place, roundish, lots of glass so the customers can look outside. As I pass I see Bonnie in there, her family just being seated. I think she's looked up and seen me, but I've gone by too fast to wave or anything. I've just noticed what I'm wearing, as though I just threw this on and dashed out without looking - it's a T-shirt and a tan tweed skirt, bias-cut, rather well-bred looking, I'm thinking I look sort of casually classy. I keep pulling my glasses off and rubbing my eyes; I can maneuver pretty well without them, but I'm very aware that if a cop were to stop me for anything I'd be in trouble. I decide I'd sooner have breakfast and do the laundry at a laundromat than go out to my mother's, so I start thinking about where to go. I go on down the road, down the hill, and it becomes Turtle Creek Park, more nearly like where Fairmount goes down than Lemmon. It's darker, as if it hadn't actually dawned yet, and the atmosphere is like about 6.00 am. I've decided to turn left but I'm stopped by the curb, there's what looks like a road but there's a couple of steps (not a real curb) so you can't drive up on it. I can't quite see this so I put my glasses on. Now, I guess, I'll go the other way, but before I get the car turned around I see Sandie walking along. She's got a pitcher and a glass in her hands with something purplish in. I get out of the car to go talk to her. She's just out for a Sunday-morning stroll, with some breakfast juice, would I like some? I say yes, take the glass and drink - it's rather like grape juice but milder and better. Some friends of hers come up, that she's going out to eat with. They're going to a rather fancy place for lunch and I can come along, but I say no thanks, I really want breakfast - I'm never quite satisfied if I don't get it, but I'll come along and visit with them anyway until I decide where I'm going to go. There's some discussion about the time - Sandie thinks it's much earlier than it is, but I say, no, it's almost 10.00, I think, but one of her friends says it's just 9.16. I do remember now, I saw that on a clock I'd just passed. This restaurant they're going to is not far, and we're actually in it next. It's sort of an elegant little place with white tablecloths and china. Some rather good-looking dark-haired men in suits sitting at one table. I'm sort of aware of them being aware of us. (I certainly wanted to look good.) We're not at a table - somehow it's more like after the meal, and we're standing at a sweets tray (counter-height) with mostly fancy chocolate on it. There are shapes, mainly leaves, delicate things, and made to look like enamelled copper jewellery - indeed some were set up to look like earrings. There is also a log-thing in the center with a thick layer of chocolate around something else. I want some, of course, though I wonder if the restaurant people won't be noticing that I'm not a paying customer. The girls I'm with, however, offer me a leaf, which I take and it's very nice, but I really want some of the log. Someone cuts me off a bit - I really appreciate that. I am going to be pushing off for breakfast, though, and I'm thinking about where to go. I mention a place back up Lemmon that I'd seen from the bus, a French bakery, can't quite recall the name but I think it's got "Paris" or "Parisian" in it. I keep saying "dah dah dah", as if it's got 3 words in the name, but I know it's only got 2. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
(10/10/86)"Girl/sister miffed - dithery guy on couch in her place" [I get a picture of a Southern-belle type, blonde, in a Forties pageboy, her clothes switch from a belle-of-the-ball gown to a standard Forties suit or skirt and sweater. She's doing a little foot-stamping pouty business. This guy is one of a set of men who come into the house we're living in, and he's usurped her place on the couch - she certainly won't ask him to move (maybe dangerous, anyway) and she's too prissy to just sit down somewhere else. Wants somebody to take care of it for her. The room fits with her clothes - maroon velvet couch, overstuffed, similar chairs, quaint little floor lamp with fringe, pictures of scenery on the walls.] "Me in fancy satin robe over regular robe" [Did I mean "clothes"? Seems more likely. This satin robe is very incongruous, I don't know why I have it on, especially over regular clothes - it's as if I'm hiding my other clothes with it. It's hanging partly open at first, and I draw it closed while I'm standing here. I'm feeling a little ill at ease.]
"men coming in taking over - sinister" [Don't know how many, but several, in suits like Forties gangsters - they just sort of walked into the house quietly and took over, I don't know what for - there's been no violence or overt threats, but I know they're up to no good. They're waiting for something, maybe for somebody else to come.] "milk out of refrigerator - didn't know there, put back in, they'd bought more, lots to drink, offer to men - old dinette in corner of little kitchen" [I'm in the kitchen, it's a tiny one, with a little dinette set with red flowered plastic upholstery all the way in the corner up against the windows, there are several, bright sunshine, yard outside, corner is in the front of the house, looks out on the street. Near the dinette set is a small refrigerator and some boxes, or wood cartons like Coke boxes. I'm right there and spot the milk behind some of the boxes, not hidden but accidentally left out of sight. I go to put it back in the refrigerator and find somebody's bought more in the meantime and it'll be ded if I put this in - since there's so much I figure we might as well drink it and I offer it to the men. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
John Boats is doing a children's Training, for fairly small kids, 5 or 6 maybe - it's not the first, there've been several, but it's still pretty new - taking place in an old building, maybe it was a school but hasn't been used in a while - pretty rough but still homey enough to suit me. Several rooms, mostly small, wood floors, not much furniture. Besides me, I only know about one other person who's here right now, a girl (blonde, medium curly hair) who's leading the kids in a sort of Pied Piper business - that's what she's supposed to be doing, why I don't know, but there's supposed to be music and the stereo's broken, so she's got headphones on so she hears it and parades around to it, and the kids follow. The whole business is sort of low-budget, what with the building and furnishings and all - it's sort of do-the-best-you-can time. I think John is slightly embarrassed about it (but only slightly). Oh, Linda Thomas is here, too - I think some others are now as well - and she's reminding me of the time - it's late afternoon on Sunday, and she reminds me I have a "Tuesday night class" (to teach). I do think it odd to have a Tuesday class on Sunday and I'm confused for a minute. But the main thing is I'm tired. I turn in the doorway toward John and lean heavily against it - he says, "Tired?" and I just nod, then say yes, indeed, or something - I really am exhausted - I'm just doing so much, one thing after another. I don't know if I can keep this up. I'm coming inside a building - church-y, school-y sort of place; elsewhere in it is a kind of pageant going on, with a bunch of people dressed up in Arabian sort of gear, an "emir" sort of head man, underlings and handmaidens, drapes - everything's in orange tones with gold embroidery and that. There's no audience, everybody in the room does something in it. It's almost but not quite real, actually. I'm supposed to be subbing for Ella, who can't make it for her part. I don't know anything about it but I understand you can fake it. I'm dressed in a sort of harem costume, all covered but you can still see how I sort of fall out of it, and Kora is with me giving me a lecture on how I'm getting fatter - "Just look at yourself", he says, "Do you realize how much you've gained from a year ago?" "You've got to stop this eating so much." I'm a little down, but I still don't think it's all that bad, is it? | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
Another bus ride, out on the edge of downtown on a dumpy little road with shacks - actually I'm with a group of women and we're waiting for a bus, or going to one, and we see a little house with a porch and a lot of clothes for sale - advertised as "Amish" [though I'm sure they wouldn't be], with lots of embroidery on cotton gauze. Nice but dubious - I'm encouraging us to go on, we need to catch our bus. Later: after a King's Feast, it's dark, lots of people I know there including Jimmy and Amanda, plus Peter Lawford and Elizabeth Taylor. Everybody's pretty drunk and leaving one by one but not going but just outside the gates and flopping on some benches to rest up. Even the serving-people are drunk. I'm hanging out with Peter Lawford; we're giggling and joking - he's still got a bit of wine in a little glass, and somebody else has a bit in a same-size glass but it's got a top like a lily with petals. Makes it hard to drink out of. I try it myself and you can't quite get it all in your mouth and it dribbles. Funny. I drunkenly remark "Hey Peter, look! Do you know we're the only ones here except for Elizabeth Taylor and...this young man?" ("This young man" is one of the serving-men, but I've forgotten his name. I'm concerned about that because I know him from somewhere else and I think his feelings will be hurt.) We shortly make our way outside - the night is quite pretty, clear, stars out, and we're all relaxing and being quite companionable. I sit down between Amanda and Jimmy, telling them to move over. Everybody's out here; the serving-people have all changed clothes now - there's Griff, sitting on a bit of fence; they're all seeing us off, sort of, watching out that we leave safely. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
Thanksgiving or Christmas, going to my parents' house - I've got long hair and a hair-spray-glitter can and I use quite a lot of it - somewhere in a small town, with nice little brick buildings - somebody wants to shoot somebody else - I've just parked my car and he's parked behind me, we're at the curb immediately behind a store-sort-of building (short, flat, like a 7-11) and it looks like he's gonna go looking for the person to shoot. I believe I'll just get out of his way. [Somebody somewhere admires my hair and I tell her she can do the same thing with a can of glitter.] In my parents' house, my brother and my father are out doing something [like getting a Christmas tree] and my mom's pissed off about it. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm travelling with a family - mother, father, teenage son and 3 or 4 younger kids, and a couple that's maybe his sister and her husband. We're going somewhere, and the name Lawrence, Kansas, comes up, but maybe it's only a stop. There's a lot of disagreement about the direction to take: we've been looking at the map and the father wants to go kinda straight north and visit somebody we know, but the brother-in-law says there isn't any connecting highway and he doesn't want to leave the road we've been on. He wants to leave the group; it isn't necessary that we stay together, but the father is doing his best to convince him to stay. While they're arguing, I have a look at the map myself. It does look a lot like this northern road just goes straight up and stops, but if you follow it back down a bit you can see an intersection with a big highway that will work just fine for us. So it's ok. The map I'm looking at is white, instead of being a standard one. The place we are, if it's a hotel, is kind of old and we seem to be sort of camped out in a long hallway instead of in rooms. Or it's like a gallery - there are windows open, showing daylight and a view of the town and treetops - we're upstairs - and we have our luggage around. I've sort of made sandwiches for everybody, but ran out of filling and there's bread left over. Also not everybody's eating the bread and I'm gathering it back up in case we need it later. At the other end of the hall the kids are playing, a little noisy. The older son is sort of babysitter. There's one very little kid; she's playing on the floor and has crawled into a tote bag with those strap handles and is puttering about like a windup toy. The son laughs. It is pretty cute. So we make it to this town we want to visit - there's a house where a friend of the family is working as a live-in housekeeper for a young executive - she left our home town to come here and we haven't seen her in a good while. This place keeps her busy, all right - the guy's not mean but he's demanding in that absent way that a lot of yuppies get - don't know any other way to get what they want, very regimented existence. She's a little harried, trying to keep up with him. (She's black, reminds me of a young Pearl Bailey but not a comedian.) I go to see this guy where he works - he's just about as harried as she is, trying to keep up with the demands of his bosses - they've got everything all laid out for their people. The executives get free groceries. There's a small grocery store right here on the office compound. (It's not a high-rise.) But there's not enough time for them to let everybody do their shopping when they want to, or something - they have this regimented, too. All these executives get 5-minute shopping sprees (once a day? I guess) - there's a guard with a gate and he has the schedule. I'm going along with our boy to help him out, but once I get in I get hampered by something and can't get hold of what I want. I look around for the guy and he's already gone. (Geez these guys can't help themselves, can they? Everything has to be done in a hurry.) I take what I do have and go back to the gate. There's a bottle of Canoe on the floor in my way - I assume it's been dropped by somebody and I kick it to one side. As I go through the gate, the guard says that that's the bottle of Canoe that was stolen the last time I came through here. Since I haven't even been in this town before, I assume he was talking to somebody else or some other error. I look at him but keep going on my way. It does occur to me that he was fishing - he's trying to nail a shoplifting charge on me. Why? Nobody's stopped me so far, but I'm beginning to wonder if he isn't maybe going to sick the cops on me. Geez. I go back around to this executive's office. I thought he was getting extra groceries for the visitors at his house, but when I go by I can see a lot of people sitting down to dinner in his office. It's got big glass windows - the interior reminds me of the old Peabody's. I'm not dressed up like they are, I guess I better go on back to his house and not interrupt his dinner party. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in an elevator lobby - looks like a hotel but it's a lot like a department store, too, and it's really the library - where I work. There's a bunch of doors, but the regular elevators aren't coming and I get on this one off to the side, that was a temporary installation for a special event. All the place is pretty elegant, even this "extra" one, but this one is a bit flimsy. When I get to the floor it's as if the walls don't go all the way up, like a screen. The building has a lot more floors but this elevator goes only from 1-5. Apparently they aren't used as much. It has a bend in it for some reason, for a minute I think I can get out the back opening, but I can't. I go out the front. This may not be the floor I work on, but I know the people here. I'm turning to go to the office, and here come two great big black panthers. They're behaving a lot like guard dogs, checking me out. I'm scared, but not big scared, since they're not attacking. I'm pretty sure they will if I do the wrong thing, though, and I'm anxious to get away from them. I carefully sidle away - they lose interest and go over to a counter, around the corner from the bank of elevators, and investigate a very small child. The kid is snatched up quickly. I'm thinking maybe guard-panthers is not such a good idea, people will complain. I go find the office, and talk to Sherry for a bit. I see a flyer for a music festival. It sounds really neat - I tell Sherry I'd really like to do this. She says her whole office is going, it's a big party of theirs. I only just came back from there but I don't know why I shouldn't go back this soon if I want to. I'm very excited. I tell Sherry how I liked the place and want to go too and she says sure come along. I'm stopping to visit at a house; I have a companion but I don't know who he is. The house is a nice little frame one where a man lives with his daughter. They offer me a bit of a cake that came in a box with a cellophane window on the lid. It's not big and it's not all that good but I keep going back for more. I sneak other little bites and finally cut off a big chunk and butter it. Then I figure I better have 2, so I take another and start to hide it in my jacket. Then I realize how little of the cake is left, and they've got hardly any for themselves and they'll certainly know where it went. But I don't want to put any back. I guess I will, though, but I may not have the opportunity. I'm getting ready to go somewhere, that's why I wanted the cake for later. I go and come back. The guy I'm travelling with is outside trying to turn the van (or car) around in the driveway - having trouble. He says the man in the house just up and died, so he couldn't help. I'm quite surprised. The guy wasn't all that old. He says he just keeled over. It crosses my mind that we'll probably be left something of his property because we were there when he died. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm with a group of people, which includes my brother, but these others are a family of their own and I don't know them very well. We're in a house or an old hotel. We're supposed to be leaving and they're not packing up to go. I've already cleaned out my room and I'm pissed off because they're not ready. I've waited and waited and this isn't the only thing I'm not happy about. I decide to stomp off on my own. I go on out and down the street. There are young punk kids around, not too sleazy, some of whom look me over and that, and I just stick my nose in the air and keep on going. Shortly I remember I haven't got my luggage with me (or at least something important I have to go back for) and I turn around. The street is kind of residential, kind of not, one of those old streets in a city that aren't popular anymore, a little tired. Some brick buildings. I go back and look for my stuff. I have to step over things to pick it up - it's next to a small table, there's other baggage, electrical cords, and so on. The others are still lounging. This man, may be the "father" of this family, but I don't think so, is not a bad guy, but neither is he the most respectable person around - he makes smart remarks and tries to be superior. He says something to me, and calls me "Monopoly", which I resent - he apparently thinks it's funny - they all think I'm funny, of course, since I'm serious about my business and stick to the program and things like that. This time I've had enough, and I say to him, "I want you to stop calling me 'Monopoly' - it's not my name; it never has been." He looks a little taken aback but maybe he'll stop. "I was only being friendly", of course. I go into another room where a man is still shaving - I'm looking for something, I checked my room but it wasn't there. This guy also has a real nonchalant attitude, but he's nicer than the other. Something hurts me now [can't say what - it isn't coming back to me now] and the guy says he can help. He gets a pencil that's a combination of red and blue lead and shows me, you have to get it quite soft (and the colors blend together) - rubbing it with his thumb on the end. Then he draws with it on my face. Presses down firmly and I can tell he's leaving a mark on my face but he says it'll help. I guess it does. Afterward, when some other people come into the room, I look into the mirror, and I see he's drawn it across my upper lip and down both sides, like a handlebar mustache and the colors mixed to become brown. I wonder if he did that on purpose as a joke.
Later, at my grandfather's house: I've come with some people (those others above?) to the street where my grandparents used to live and seen that it's changed a lot. There's a kind of upscale look to the neighborhood and there's a small lake behind some of the houses. I go sit on the back step and see that the lake is right up next to the yard and into it a little. Then I notice with a start that there are buildings in the back yard. No, it's not buildings in it, it's the backs of some condos jutting into the yard. Someone must have sold off part of the back yard and those places are using it crosswise as their back yard. I'm sorry - the end of an era and all that - it's not as nice as it used to be - all this artificial fun (the lake, boats, and all) and artificial class (the condos). Then I'm in my bedroom waiting for Lori. I hear flute music and it gets louder and I realize it must be her, coming up the stairs, though I can't hear the steps creak. I didn't know she'd learned to play the flute (or pipes) and wonder if she'd just learned and I figure she's playing them up the stairs to announce her arrival, like Lyn does. I'm going into the living room to let her in, and I can just see her head and shoulders through the window - she's wearing a cloak with hood, which is up - she looks different. But the music doesn't seem to be coming from outside and I look around. Then I can't see Lori any more - I can't see anybody outside. That bothers me, and I go to draw the curtains. They have drawstrings now, but I can't get them to work. I can't get one to go across without the other. The music is still going on. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
Barbara and I are travelling somewhere and get stuck or stranded in some rain, and when it's over we go up to the highway and try to walk across. Only it's muddy. We're both dressed pretty nice but it just doesn't matter any more and we go on anyway. When we step out we find it's muddier than we thought and sink a bit. Then more. Then a whole lot more, and suddenly we're up to our chests and flailing for the curb. We make it there and need help getting up over it. We hang on and yell for help - there isn't a road shoulder but a drop-off with some steps, down to the service road. And some people down below. A guy comes up to help us; somebody else helps him, they haul us up over the curb and down to the street. Then he asks us for money. We're very surprised and insulted. I give him a traveller's check, without much grace, and we go on off down the road. As we turn a corner around a store, I realize I only just handed him the check from the pack, I didn't sign it; it won't be any good. I think that's fine - we'll just disappear and he can't find us. I start hurrying, but he catches up and I have to make it good. We need a place to stay - he takes us down the street to a house where an older couple live, maybe a bed and breakfast sort of place, but there's nobody awake. He takes us in anyway, and we look around. I look in the mirror at myself and find I'm not actually covered in mud. Messy, damp, but not mud-coated. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
Somewhere, in a place like the Administrative Wing, there's an office like Mr Slaughter's or Jan's - beyond it is an open space. All the walls and panels are a medium dark peach. The lighting is indirect and down some. Seems like night. I'm looking into this "office" - which is bigger than usual - and there's a large incubator-type thing in it. I can see it has something alive and furry in it so I go look. There are actually 3 human babies in it, all asleep, and 3 huge guinea pigs, and some large hamsters. Somebody has told me to go look at the hamsters, but didn't mention the babies. I consider that odd. It seems to be some kind of experiment.I'm in a house with a young girl. I'm visiting, I don't know anybody here very well. Seems like she has a younger sister. We are going somewhere, and next door stop at a little house with bushes out front that have candy bars on them. She's looking over one and I see she's got a Violet Crumble in her hand. I'm delighted and start looking for one of my own. I'm listening to a girl whine at me, everything's wrong with her and her life, etc. As she turns to me, I see a crystal. I guess she'd been wearing it but I see it separately. It's clear but has green inside it and another color outside - maybe part of the setting, another stone. It has a silver cap on it. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm at Sue S's house, helping get ready for a Training - it's also the Center. We've had our meeting and cleaning up but people keep coming for other things. The room has been set before but changed - by Sue and somebody, I think - now it's not all straight but nearly. I'm looking in a corner at a small tree and there's a bit of branch with some root attached I want to throw out but, it's attached to the other root system and I'm not sure I should. I try to find somebody to ask and they're all too busy. I see a mother and her 2 daughters have come - both girls dressed in green jumpers, white blouses, school uniforms - Oxfords - one girl has red hair. They're being taught to use the phone. I'm kinda pissed off because I can't get my questions answered, but the branch has come loose from the rest anyway. I put it down and go into the living room. I know this room is usually lived-in and not part of the Center, but sometimes it's used. I go to the front door - maybe just to see, but I think I open it at a knock, somebody comes in. I'm on the porch, and suddenly I'm swept off my feet by somebody. Turns out to be Dan, who doesn't do that sort of thing. I get crushed and carried back to the classroom. We lie down facing each other, propped on elbows - he's elated, so happy and excited he could burst. I notice he's wearing a skirt - a jeans-type skirt, I wonder if it's some new fashion for men, when I see he's wearing a blonde curly wig. I ask him if anybody knows he's dressed like that - he says no, this is the first time - and he's going to dress like this on his camping trip with Lynn, and sleep in a "funereal" box. I let that pass for a moment and then say, "Dan did you mean to say 'funereal' box or [something else that rhymes, but it's not coming to me now]?" He looks taken aback and says "I thought I said [__} - gee, they sure do sound alike, don't they?" Silence for a while. Then Mark crosses my mind, and I think of AIDS, and I ask Dan if he ever... and he says no. I'm relieved but still worried and unsure. I'm driving a car with Lou in the front seat and Garrett in the back, coming up to a place downtown that you have to turn left or right. I get in the lane to turn left. Luis is getting out here and abruptly leaves without saying goodbye or anything. I remark on this to Gail, and turn left. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm travelling with a girlfriend who wants to find her mother (or her mother's grave - I think she knows she's dead). Also with us is Bill , and we're like detectives or something, though not partners, and we're going along to help her. I don't know where we started from exactly but one place we were was an amusement park and I was coming away from it, going toward the place I'll meet the others, on a residential street that's very muddy (or something that makes it difficult to cross). I want to have a look at this house although it's on the wrong side of the street, and it takes me a while to get there. I don't want anyone to see me looking, so I just look carefully and turn to go. Either I drop something or I'm afraid of dropping something here because I don't want to delay and possibly get caught here. No big deal, actually, I'm not doing anything wrong, but I'm uncomfortable about it. Anyway I get back across the street. Later we're in a motel room. Morgan's been doing things in the bathroom and the friend has gotten groceries. I've been thinking about our plan and waiting for Bill so I can get in the bathroom. When he does come out, I go in and see this odd sink and quite a lot of toiletries of Morgan's all over, and the "porcelain" (it's that molded stuff) wants rinsing off. The sink actually goes up behind the taps, and rises to a shelf to put things on, but it's slanted. I wonder how his bottles and things are staying up. Then, to rinse the sink, I splash water up there and find it flows neatly along the shelf and down. It's made to do that. Oh. And when I move a bottle or two and put them back, I see there's an air-suction slot in the wall behind. At first I thought all these things had magnets on, but they're being held by the air suction. I can feel it when I put my hand up there. Anyway I askMorgan if we're gonna plan our next move and he seems reluctant. Doesn't have any ideas and doesn't feel well, apparently, his main goal is to take care of himself. Later we're at a place outdoors with a bunch of other people, around a place like an open barn (or my px's old garage on Rosedale) and there's supposed to be a wedding but either it's been called off or postponed. It's more like a carnival, these people are just milling around. The reason we're here is we're trying to find someone who knows this girl's mother, (Shelley?). We're really just passing by. (Like "Route 66".) There was a wedding cake made in the size and shape of a wedding dress, only most of the cake's already been eaten. You can open up the outer icing like the "dress" it's meant to be, and get cake from inside. Nobody wanted to disturb the pretty outside. I go up to see if I can get a taste and a girl (blonde - the real bride?) says, there's some cake left (in such and such a place) - just look for it. Really I only do want a taste and I pinch a little bit of remnant from inside and find it's really pretty bland for a wedding cake. I surely don't want a whole piece. I go back to my friends, and the girl's been putting up pieces of zucchini on a board with magnets - like a display - several of them - just to amuse herself, I guess. The zucchini is cut long-ways, not sliced from the end. The people mill around, mostly saying "what's this for?" One guy, a regular loudmouth, sort of takes over and makes a show of doing something to destroy the zucchini - burning them, I guess. He's got everybody's attention, and they're all crowding around him to see what he's doing. My friend is quite hacked off and yells at him he'd better not do that or be prepared to replace her magnets. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I am working in my office but it looks different, and there's other stuff going on. Mick Jagger is working there now, and it's set up more circular. I'm going off to look for Lori, and the place is also a shopping mall. Didn't find her but I poke around in a toy store. Back to office. There's a wedding going on in a big room nearby. Polish or something - there are a lot of people in there. There's something I need to get - a plain white envelope - and after I look around I find they must be in the room where the wedding's going on, so I go through to the back of it past all these people. I'm very self-conscious, esp. since I don't have shoes on, and realize the staff is really supposed to stay out, and leave the people alone. But I get my envelopes and leave. A salesman comes by with some stationery products, starting his spiel as though I were the Purchaser - I explain to him that I'm not - I only talked to him when he was here before because I was interested in Christmas cards, but I didn't send any after all. He's a stocky short guy, foreign, dark, sort of prim, and he's a bit miffed now. He looks like he thinks I'm giving him the runaround, but I'm not. He leaves some cards with me to give to Linda. Mick Jagger comes over to say something. He's really quite a normal sort of guy, doesn't fool around. Not too much anyway - he's fun. However, I'm getting ready to move out of town. Next I'm in a house with my father and stepmother and brother and another girl. (My sister? - don't think so.) I'm probably a teenager. We've just moved in and don't know where things are, haven't got the furniture all in. Nice little old house. I go over where this closet is. It has a big chest of drawers affair in it, not wood, with a bin-opening at the top. It's tall. As I look at it, it moves a little, I see it's on wheels. I pull it out and find a real chest of drawers behind it, old, wood, painted white. I exclaim over this to my brother and what's-her-name, because now we've got plenty of drawer space. [Somehow I get a message - don't know if it's through the mail or I go outside the house or what, something unusual about it.] I get a letter that says the writer's coming to visit soon, and in a tacked-on note, Maxine too. But it's not signed and we're having to speculate who sent it. I figure it's Ted. He said he'd visit, but why Maxine? Why would she want to come out here? | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I keep seeing this guy around - he's pretty good-looking, seems nice, not flashy or even very outgoing, probably younger than me - we go to the same school or work in the same place, I'm not sure - I notice him a lot but I don't ever speak, we haven't actually met - and now he's sitting next to me in a movie theater. I'm with some other people but I'm pretty distracted by him. I think he's with other people too but not with a girl. I get more agitated as time goes on, and very late in the movie he turns his head towards me, leans over very slowly and kisses me. Suddenly I know he's noticed me too, and is as attracted to me as I am to him. I'm shocked, but I turn my head to him and kiss him back, on the lips. I really want him. My feelings are very strong. I don't know if anything is ever spoken, and I soon leave with my female friends; I don't know if he comes with me or not. Later I'm in an auditorium at work, with a short bank of seats with 2 aisles - the seats rise to high windows across that let in sunlight. There are 2 riser-affairs on each outside bank of seats at the front inside corners. They're for speakers to stand on, from the audience I presume, and they're just boxes of wood painted blue with a platform in the center. [The front of the room is presumably open, as a lecture hall or something, but it doesn't figure into this dream.] Some people have just left and I'm one of the last out. As I look at the riser nearest the door, I can see that it sags in the middle and looks worn. I call someone back from the door to look at it, and we agree it is pretty tacky, possibly dangerous, and we really must do something about it. ---Almost forgot, some small children were here, at least one of them stood on the riser and spoke. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in a small place, an apartment or motel room, where I'm staying with my mom and [somebody else - a brother or 2?]. A very abbreviated place, small rooms and flimsy fixtures, like the Motel 6 was. It has a kitchen. There's a telephone on the wall next to the kitchen. It hangs sideways and has a round earpiece and the mouthpiece is sort of the end of the metal rod that you hold. You can't prop it on your shoulder. Mom's not here. Somebody else comes in, a boy (we're all young here) with some clay figures to show us. He takes them out of plastic bags. He hands me a sort of rabbit-lady, and I quite like it, but it's still a bit soft and some of it comes apart in my hand. I'm afraid if I grasp it with my other hand I'll smush it. Or if I put it down. I feel terribly responsible for it. Nobody else is paying attention yet, he's showing others to my brother and I'm sitting there, very uncomfortable, and I would really like to get up and go do something else. Finally I get tired of waiting and I put it down. It does bend a bit but it's ok. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in a car in a residential neighborhood, being chased by another car, don't know who's in it. I have a kitten with me. We turn and dash down the blocks and I finally lose the other car by dashing into a driveway. This is the back yard of a very nice house and the man who lives there is outside. I get out and explain what I'm doing there and he's very nice and accommodating, says sure I can stay. He has a cat too and we talk about cats. The kitten comes out and looks around; I fetch a box-thing like the plastic airline carriers and put him in while we're talking. It's not just a carrier but a port-a-potty for cats, and he takes a very long pee. I'm not exactly embarrassed, but concerned lest I spill it and make a mess on this man's things. I do get jostled a bit but there isn't any actual harm done. I take the bucket out and empty it, put it back in and the kitten pees some more but not so much. Next: I'm (staying) at a sort of resort-place. There's a row of rooms, all a wood building with a board walkway in front with a roof. A bit like a Western sort of town. Barbara's also staying here, not far from me, I'm outside on the walk and I pass by where Barbara is and I overhear her say something about some earrings I gave her, little gold chains (the sort that just look like a loop of chain hanging through the ear). I don't remember her exact words but she wanted to exchange them for something somebody else had, since she never wore them. I'm rather disappointed. She never said anything to me. I feel slighted and I want to do something to get back at her. I go back down toward my room and I'm outside on the walkway and Barbara comes back down this way. She's actually quite cool to me and her voice is sharp. I'm thinking of something she gave me that I can give away or trade. Next: I'm on a beach with somebody else down below a house where we stay. We've both got robes on, not bathrobe-standard but monk-y-looking, though they are for leisure or beachwear. Long sleeves. We're sitting after walking, looking out at the roaring morning sea, contemplating. This is an old guy, my teacher. We've sat there for a long time and the sun's coming up and I'm getting warm. I get up and go up to the house where there's a couple of other people on the porch. They're standing and looking out, too, but mostly watching us. I exchange my long-sleeved robe for a short-sleeved one and go back down to join the old man. (It's got something to do with work.) I'm in my office - nothing like the real one, it's all closed in - yellow light, a bit crowded. Kelly works here part-time but she's looking for another job. She and her boyfriend are eating spaghetti or something at the corner of a table or desk. I'm hungry. Her boyfriend offers me a bite or 2 from his plate and I make a mess, stuff on the table, but not too bad. I gasp. Kelly thinks it's worse than it is, but then we see. She's trying to encourage me to get something done - says, you know I'm going away soon, and then you'll have to do it on your own. Someone comes in asking if there's any cake left - I didn't realize there was any, though I've been sitting right next to it. Also chocolate cookies - ones with chips, little all-chocolate ones, some big flat ones with chocolate stripes. And Mexican cake, loaf-type slices, stacked up. Some pink ones across from me where the cookies are, white ones on my right. I don't know what we do here but there are drawing-boards as well as desks. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm with a couple of other people at a crafts show - part of it's outside, part in. Inside I'm looking at some neat jewellery, some I've seen before or at least the same artists. It's darkish here, and there's a big glass case that's very low to the ground, and faces the back wall - don't know what's in front of me. There's an old man comes up, he's delighted with something I did for him [I don't remember what] and thanks me at great length. He's the father of one of the women I'm with and I don't want to upset anybody by asking him to go away. He's [either wearing or has, on his hat] a silver piece, an Art Nouveau woman's head, I think, set in ribbon or something, very pretty, and I admire it, mentioning it to the lady whose booth it is, telling her (since I can't get a word in edgewise with the old man) I have one just like it at home, except his is silver and mine's pewter, without the frills. It came from her shop, she's pleased. He goes away and I look around some more, especially the lighted case where there are loose stones at the bottom. I sit on the floor to look and open the door. (I look up once to see if anybody minds.) It's a sliding glass door with no lock. There are very interesting rocks in here, especially some that remind me of scarabs but aren't quite. There are some brown variegated ones that I hold up to my ears, and look in the mirror. The bigger pieces sit out by themselves and the little ones are in dishes. Someone wants to show me a couple of articles in a box, a green box. One of them is leather with hide still on it and for a second I don't know what it is, then I realize it goes round the neck; first I think it buttons or snaps, then I see it slips on over the head. It's a kind of bib-collar affair, meant for keeping your neck and chest and shoulders warm and the chill out. Very Eskimo-y looking, has a nice woven design on, I like it a lot. Somebody says something about the funny things people get themselves up in, and I say, "Consider that there was a time when there were no coats - people used to wear cloaks, you know - that was how you kept yourself warm." I am admiring the collar in the mirror. I like it a lot. We go to a place outside now, I take off the collar. There are a lot of people out here milling around rather like a cocktail party or Sunday after church - not actually looking at things. There's a mirror hanging up on the fence or back of a building and we try things on and look at ourselves. The girl who has the stuff here wants to show me a shawl, she says it's the last one of its group, a specialty thing she did, she thinks I should try it on. She pulls it out and I walk to the mirror with it, looking for the tag and when I see what I think is the price I'm astounded - does it really say $1295? (Actually it has a British pound sign written above it but it's just that affectation.)* It certainly is nice, but not that nice. I open it out and try to pull it straight behind me so as to wrap it around but it keeps getting out of my grip, so as I walk I seem to be flying it out behind me like a flag. Which is okay with me, I feel quite flamboyant. I see in the faces milling around a particular man that I like the looks of - he seems very sharp-dressed, handsome, interesting. Suits me to be noticeable. I go to the mirror, flinging the shawl around me dashingly. I see it's definitely brown and white (looks like an overgrown version of the alpaca scarf Melanie made me), and it goes rather well with the heavy sweater that I can now see I'm wearing. I like it. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I seem to be living with Ralph and his wife in a house or small cabin and they're/we're moving out. Somebody else is helping too. There are also some little reptilian creatures living here, too, and they're just babies - 2 different kinds, one's a dragon, the other's sort of round-headed, there's only 2 or 3 of them. You have to watch them like a hawk, or they'll run around and the neighborhood kids'll grab them to play with and they think it's fun to throw them up in the air and try to make them fly. They don't fly. This is terrible. I run out and scream at the kids and they leave. Now Ralph (he's wearing his "coonskin" cap and funny jacket) has discovered somebody's stolen the television set from the bedroom. He's real upset about it, everybody is. We go on moving things. The others are outside and I'm in the front room - it's empty mostly. Ralph comes out of the bedroom looking dejected and sits heavily on a box or trunk next to the door, puts his hands on his knees. Looks defeated. I tell him he's lucky they didn't take anything else, look how much he still has. He cheers up a little, when I hear a call that the kids have the babies again and we go running out. It's terrible. This is kind of a park we're in, the day isn't bright but not overcast, the grass isn't green but not brown, nothing much to be seen, sort of blah lawns. The kids are on the side of the house, throwing the baby animals up, and they're in such sad shape, and I'm really angry - I mean to put a stop to this. One or two of the round-headed ones may be dead, I don't want to look at them, I'm scared. I snatch up a couple under each arm, the others do the same, and make for one of the kids. They're boys, maybe 10 or 12 years old. Cruel. Thoughtless. Mean. Nasty. I'm horrified and furious. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
Before: I'm in a theater where a show is on and Tom Bell/Dr Who is the main character - it's maybe a magic show, or something where he interacts with the audience. Theater is small, sort of Victorian, seats run steep, velvet curtains and seat covers. I'm chosen out of the audience (jam-packed, full of kids or otherwise very enthusiastic, active people) to do something (call it a stunt) that has to do with me having something and he chases me to get it. I get to hide first and then run. I go behind the stage: I go up a few little steps in front of me - I'm sitting close to the front, 2nd row, right end - and when I go through the door I see there's an outside door to the street, also open. It's night. I wait my chance, going to the edge of the curtain and peering around, then when the time is right I dash quietly across the stage and sneak up on him (to the delight of the audience). Then I lead him a merry chase, finishing up by disappearing behind the crowd to the right, running down to the front and across to the middle aisle, then back up my own row to my seat. Everybody loves it. Most people don't use that much imagination in this "event". The Doctor is foiled, everybody roars. As I sit, I think about how I might have just dashed out the door and run down the street, that would've been fun. But I'd have had to leave my purse and library book behind. The book I could have trusted to get back but I didn't want to leave my purse. [By the way, the scene outside is an empty little street like you might like to see behind a little Victorian theater, and it's been raining, so the lamplight shines on wet streets. There are some trees and bushes, mostly the other side of the street.]
Another scene: a man is encouraging me to try clothes on, so I can go to some fancy ball or do. I have got absolutely nothing to wear for it, and I absolutely refuse to consider going in the things he's proposing. I will not - as he suggests - put on these 2 old-fashioned, granny-type long-sleeved cotton dresses and "somehow" combine them. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
Trying to get to work. It's still dark and I want some breakfast - I'm not all dressed yet, not sure what I've got on top but I've got something casual underneath. I live a few blocks away but I've come to this roadhouse-diner for breakfast but can't go in yet - I run into this girlfriend, she's supposed to be going with me but she says she has a job at last - working in this fancy dress shop she used to work in. She hadn't wanted to do that, but she needs the money bad. She wanted to improve her career. I'm wondering how she'll fare in that place, it's quite classy and she's rather informal - earthy, even. She's not absolutely thrilled with the job herself but she is excited and relieved. I guess it's understandable. Anyway, I'm spending too much time here talking - I need to get on. It's getting late for breakfast and I'll just get something to go, but first I'll look at this house trailer over here in the parking lot - I'm going to be living in it soon, and I've got the keys with me. It has 2 locks in the door (which opens out the back end) and usually the locks will catch when you shut the door hard but I'm having trouble with it. I've seen inside, it's nice enough, a small but comfortable living room. Now the locks won't catch. I twiddle keys and bang the door over and over - nothing. Damn. There's a cat around, he comes over and wants to stand around and try to get inside - I have to keep dragging him or his tail out of the door so I can bang it. Nothing is happening with the locks, I think they're broken. Somebody from the diner comes by to sympathize. Now I know I'm going to be late for work and I can't even go home to change clothes without being later. I take off my robe or whatever it is and I've got on a plaid long-sleeved shirt and khaki pants. That ought to be good enough for work but I don't think it is. If only I had a jacket! And now I sure don't get any breakfast. I'm really frustrated and disappointed now. Getting angry. If a bus came by just now I'd be obliged to take it but I'm not confident about going to work dressed like this and I think I'll go home and change even if it is 8.15. I start for home - I have to go down the street to the left for a bit, then turn left. [Didn't I come in a car? - seems like it.] I'm walking first, then I walk faster, then break into a little jog - I'm not getting the hang of it at first, then it settles down and I run. I'm in a residential neighborhood with lots of trees, tall ones with overhanging leaves making a bit of roof. After a bit I come to a bunch of girls just getting off a bus. They start into the street to walk home, and get in my way. At first I slow down meaning to let them pass, but they don't. They stay in my way and they're walking slowly. I jog in place a bit, then speed up and try to find a hole to get through, but when I try to dart past somebody moves and I run into her. This happens once or twice more and I get impolite and start shoving. They take exception, of course. And I feel a little guilty and nasty but I run on ahead anyway, hoping to leave them out of sight. I don't quite make it and want to get away, so I turn left down a side street. It's got some tall red brick apartments on it - it's starting to get light, too. Somehow I get into a place - an apartment, I guess, though not mine, and I don't remember climbing any stairs, but there are two women here - dressed like suburban housewives, they don't mind me being here - maybe people take shortcuts here a lot. There's a window with a fire escape to my right, I'll go out that and double back so those girls in the street won't see me. There's a little old woman, bent over, dressed sorta like a gypsy, with long stringy black-and-grey hair in the way, though, and she even goes out to the fire-escape landing. Again I have to get round her to get down. Geez. But I do get there and start to go down but there aren't real steps, it's more like a very high jungle-gym and I have to climb down through the center. It's tricky, reaching from platform to platform. Scary. As I go down, suddenly I see there are other people around, on the jungle-gym and out of it. They're dressed in long things, and I finally see they're SOCIETY FOR CREATIVE ANACHRONISM people. They must be here for a demonstration or small tournament or something. A girl on the jungle-gym speaks to me and they all seem to think I'm one of them and expect me to join them. I'm taken aback, this is rather Twilight-Zone-y. This is a bizarre situation. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I've just come back from somewhere and found that "we" have been taken over. ("We", I guess, means the whole country, and by Russia, looks like.) There's not many people around and some of them are in groups in houses packing up to leave. There are some poor people at my house with my parents [not my real ones], they've taken them in and we're going off together. (Don't know where to.) This poor woman is sitting like a statue while my mother is folding blankets. She has a ragged white one herself and mother takes it last, folds it, adds it to the bundle. I understand what's happened but I'm not taking much of a hand myself. Finally I ask my mother, by the way, I haven't heard yet, are we taking any of our own things? Like clothes, you know - are we just going with what we've got on or are we packing a suitcase or something? You know all my Units pack flat, though I'd hate to have to leave some of the other stuff, I'd be well enough off with those. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
It's after such a Russian takeover, and I'm living in a house with the family from "Eight is Enough", as well as other "refugees" or displaced persons or something, we're all very crowded into one house and trying to work things out. It's not easy. For instance, the bathrooms have low stall doors on them and after waiting to get into one, the boy before me wanted to stop and chat and there are always people coming by so it's hard to get enough privacy to pee. The family's very friendly, though - these other people only just came and are just settling in. I come into the bedroom and this friend of mine wants to talk about the coffee arrangements. She and one of the others - a black girl, younger than me - think it's got to be changed. Something about the $7 a month we pay not covering new equipment. I'm not sure what they're talking about and they're taking it awfully seriously. I feel guilty for some reason, as though the problem is my fault, or maybe I should be taking it as seriously as they are. I give the black girl $5 to start off the contributions and they say some more, then I say, okay, please start over, I don't understand yet - I paid $7 before, and I've just given another $5 to you, now tell me why? They start to talk and just at that moment a whole crowd of people comes through the door, all talking animatedly so we can't hear any more and walking in between us. We give it up. Lots of these people are tenants in this room, some of them new. I get to listening to a guy talking about maybe knocking another window in this blank wall so you can see the sun and I tell him I'd been thinking about bringing a bookcase from my old house and putting it there, maybe we should think about it. I leave the room and find the "mother" of the house in the living room, sitting at a desk - I greet her saying, at last I've found you! - and she says she'd wanted to talk to me about my lip color and how I sometimes am overglossed. I say I never wear lipstick and she talks about not liking to wear it, either, and runs over all the same reasons I really don't bother wearing it, it's a waste of effort. She's a nice lady. Short gray hair. Also somewhere in here there's a kids' theatrical being presented outdoors on a sort of plaza, with a bunch of kids in whiteface with bright pastel Indian-paint on their faces and sort of tutu costumes, singing a musical number in formation with lots of arm gestures. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm getting dressed in a bedroom (not mine?), standing facing the side of the bed (not mine) with my back to the door. I've got on a rather neat shirt, maybe new, new to me at least, gold-color, not shiny - a sort of basket-weave, with a collar, buttons up to the neck. I look pretty sharp, but I'm supposed to have a black jacket on - my own black jacket - but it's not washed and I can't put it on. It's lying on the bathroom floor [like mine really is] and even if I was willing to wear it dirty, it's crumpled. Besides, it's not really nice any more - it's had most of the color worn or washed off by now and it would detract from the shirt if I did put it on. All the same, I feel rather inadequate without a jacket, underdressed. I'm supposed to be dressed up nice for something that's going on. I'm uncomfortable about it, and hug the shirt around me. I still look pretty classy though. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I work for a rock star (Prince?) and am travelling with him and his girlfriend. The auditorium is being set up and I'm not doing anything much when I remember I haven't set out, gotten their clothes for the show. I'm slightly panicked and hurry back to the place we're sort of "encamped". She (the girlfriend) has set up some triangular cardboard boxes as a sort of tunnel into the area and I don't want to crawl through because of my weight, so I have to stumble past them. This place is kind of like a huge warehouse and we're camping in it like little rabbits or something. I go into their "room", where clothes and things are. As I do things I overhear her talking to someone, who says how remarkable it is, she's 8 months pregnant and nobody knows. She wants to keep it a secret. The publicity would be awful, and everything would be very messy. (He's black and she's white - they mean to stay together and be a family but don't think they could have any private life if this got out.) She's quite nervous and dithery about the whole thing - not her usual style - and comes in to hand me something, saying keep it for her. I think I should sort of hide it so she can't find it all that easily and keep getting it again (I don't know what it is - papers? - but I know she's only dithering about it out of nervousness) - I put it behind a lamp on a small table, with something that I just put there myself, but it's kinda precarious so I go to put it in (or near) my suitcase, on the floor by the opposite wall. [This is really a room, sort of - there are outside windows in it but they don't let you see out - frosted, I guess.) I'm repacking it anyway and trying to put a couple of new yellow sweaters in it, I've got several crew-neck sweaters there already, a couple more yellow, a couple beige. They mightn't fit. A little girl comes up and looks over my shoulder, her mom not far behind - she asks the usual questions, what are you doing that for, etc. I mention she has a couple of yellow sweaters like these. (Or does she?) | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
A friend of mine, who lives next door or nearly, is associated with William Shatner in a business capacity - is she an actress too, or something else? - but I saw her with him by accident someplace - out somewhere, maybe, but I think through a window - and they were behaving like sort of "pre-lovers", and I do believe they're striking up a romance. I'm coming back home on the bus and I go by her house. I think I'll go in and ask her about it. She mentions him before I do, and I think either she doesn't want people to know they're seeing each other socially (she's embarrassed about it), or she doesn't realize it herself. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
There's a Training going on, I'm participating, and John has given us a sort of assignment to complete, which involves getting a load of underpants washed and stacked neatly in a time-period, plus some other details, I think. I go with another girl to her place - there's a rather dark sort of room, study-like, cluttered with things, old carpet on the floor. This is quite comfortable and companionable after the Training environment, but we remember we have a project to do and it's not "supposed" to be easy - we have to keep our business in mind. The laundry basket is on the bed and the panties are in it. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I am incarcerated somewhere with Dr Who (Peter Davisson) in a rather futuristic place, as though it were an episode of the show. I don't know how we got here but we didn't do anything wrong, and the Doctor is trying to get us out. They have him change clothes into a sort of prison uniform but it's green and has a turtleneck and matching socks and all. We've got an accomplice, I don't think he came in here with us, but he's helping us. We've managed to get the Doctor's clothes back, or we've found them, and he's changing and talking about what we're going to do when someone comes in. We're across a partition from the door, so we can't necessarily be seen, but the Doctor doesn't hear them and doesn't stop talking. I try to signal him, then whisper, "Doctor!", urgently, but he keeps on talking away and I'm getting scared. If we're caught we're sure to be in big trouble because the Doctor's changed almost everything now, except his shoes and socks, and they'll know what's happening for sure. The Doctor can talk his way out of lots of things, but this would definitely raise the alarm and we didn't want to do that. The plan had been for him to get out and then get me out, after he had some help. Is that right? Or were we all getting out together? Anyway, now he does shut up, and the moment is tense - we're about to be noticed by the men who came in - the first one is a typical bad-guy-in-an-authority-group TV or movie stereotype, and he's talking away to the 2nd, so he hasn't noticed right away. I think the Doctor's going to do some fancy talking and cover for me escaping. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm at a place that's some kind of institution, and I either work here or am studying here, either way it's where I spend my time. There's a lot of Life Training people here, and yoga people. First I go to a kind of arena, and take my place in the stands near the front. Sue is nearby and we say something to each other, I don't know what's going on out in the arena itself. Shortly it seems to be lunch hour, and everybody breaks up and goes places. All very casual, people just drift away. I stand talking to somebody for a few minutes. Then I'm at a kind of concrete ramp-affair, like you might find in a parking lot. The corner of the ramp goes up and around, and the sides are open from about shoulder height so you see sunlight and trees and all. There are quite a few people about, including Sue, and I tell her about a conversation I just had with somebody, and I tell her his name, which she finds hard to believe, but I insist once or twice,, and then start to say, "You know, the guy who used to work with you", but stop short because I realize that it was Bill Wold instead of who I said after all. I'm embarrassed but amused and I tell Sue I've remembered that the person I'd said was wrong, but I'd tell her later who it was. So I settle down on the floor with a blanket or a mat of some kind, and set it up just under the turn of the ramp where the upper part creates a real deep slant to the lower part, and I'm going to do some exercises. I'm not sure I meant to at first, but after I get settled I just think I'll try sitting up and reaching for the upper-thing, since it's so close. I'm lying so that I'm on a slant, with my head down. So as I reach up, I come up easily enough, hands straight out, but they have to bend soon because of the wall. Then back down again, hard but I can do it. I continue to do this for quite a while, and one or another people come to talk to me, including George, whom I'd rather not see because I don't want him to watch me do this. I'm not doing it to "work out" anyway, but for fun and to see how long I can. George, having seen me do this, decides to set up some kind of an exercise in the vicinity, which involves him being behind a curtain, and the other people laid out in rows that remind me of streets. I at first think I'm taking part in this but am not very enthusiastic. Then I see by the clock (that I never noticed before) that it's 1.10 and my lunch hour's over anyway. I start to pick up my things and go. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
There's a kind of war or rebellion going on at work, and management has some of the employees working for them, but not many are morally behind them. I'm in a small office - just came there to help or take over for another girl, we're going through some files and sorting things. There's a couple of girls from "the other side" crouched behind a desk across the room shooting arrows at us. We're pretty nonchalant - mostly these people can't hit you for beans, and the risk is small (though present!) so you just do your thing and don't bother about ducking, it's not as though you don't know what they're going to do. The girl I'm with is going through papers on my right, and she says she needs to leave early, there's something she needs to go home for, will I mind taking over for her? I say no, that's fine, I don't have much to do anyway. But this arrow-business is becoming a nuisance, and you know all I really need to do is just go and kick the desk over on 'em - so I do that. Takes a couple of tries but it goes over - it's a regular heavy old gray one, and one of the girls is pinned under it. Don't know if she's hurt or not. The other one comes out from behind and says, look, I hope you don't resent this too much, I'm just doing this because I have to, I don't really want to hurt you. (She has long hair, sort of pretty, "nice" - reminds me of Bailey Quarters.) I say to her, that's okay, actually I'm just worried about the rest of your life. She considers that - yeah, she says, you're right; I don't know if I really want to hurt anybody at all. I say I don't know if I could actually hurt another person myself. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm under the control of a couple of guys, one blonde, one dark-haired. The blonde is in charge, more or less but the other is his henchman. [I don't know what they want with me but I've been their prisoner not very long, in a house.] They don't have weapons but think I can't resist them. I get hold of a long square stick/pole and brain the darker one with it - he didn't think I could do it and all but laughed at me. It was kind of fun and I sort of want to hit him again but I need to get out before he wakes up. The blonde guy comes with me. We get in a car, back seat, somebody else driving. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm sitting at a vanity table trying to put on my mascara in a hurry - I thought I'd finished all the makeup but when I went out and saw myself in a mirror I hadn't done it, so I'm here - I do a stroke, and get it on my eyelid. Several spots. I rub one, make a smudge; I don't have my stick or Q-Tips, so I frantically look for something to rub with and it doesn't work very well - I can't get the Kleenex to work. I'm panicking. Finally I go out again. [Kelly's around somewhere.] I'm outside with Lorren and some other people - we're getting ready to go somewhere, we're next to a car. I'm gonna try the mascara again. I'm still nervous - I drop the wand, and juggle it, and it ends up stuck between the armhole of my white sweater-vest and my white shirt. I'm thoroughly overwrought now and just collapse in tears. Nobody knows why I'm so depressed but they're cautious. Somebody leaves, I think, and Lorren and I go back inside. There's somebody else here, 2 men. Some other guys come to take us (all) some place but I just can't go. Lorren stays with me. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I've brought Tree, who is elderly and not well, "home" - as if we've been staying out in the country somewhere - as well as 3 baby possums. I'm looking at a picture book of nursery rhymes and (fairy tales, I guess) - it's quite large, with color pictures. The babies and Tree are perched at the top as if they're tucked between pages, and I'm turning them, to find some story with possums in it (or are they foxes?) where the babies can live. And one for Tree, so I can give him a nice home to retire in. I'm trying not to think about that - it's too painful. I don't want to let him go, don't want to send him away. And I say to myself, "he's only 12 years old! He could live a long time yet!" Cats can get to be 16 or older - that's another 4 years, maybe. A couple of other people are with me and we're running from some bad guys, gangsters, in a place like a warehouse, with barrels and bundles in it. They're going to come through the door and it looks like we can't get out but by the time they come through we've got up to the ceiling and through a trapdoor or something into the room above and we're away. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
A young man calls me on the phone, he's from the SOCIETY FOR THE CREATIVE ANACHRONISM and I've met him casually at an event or party I had once, at some park or school or church or somewhere. He's telling me that we're going to have a visit from a King Estanzia and this is partly an invitation to come, but also he wants to know how or if they can get to use the place I had the party at. I tell him what there is to say about that and ask him who is this Estanzia that I should be so impressed with him - what's he like? what's he done? The guy doesn't answer me, and I rephrase the question, but he still doesn't, and I wonder have I offended him so bad, or has he already hung up, and I just don't realize it? [As I gradually wake up I don't have it in my hand, so I couldn't have been talking to anybody.] | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm working in a courtroom - it's big, open, has lots of people in it, including George - who still teaches yoga too. My job is more or less clinical, but I'm pretty much indispensable - I do all sorts of things and make myself useful. Some of the people here are caricatures - there's a sort of hostile Groucho Marx, and pompous uniformed "official"-types (like from Ruritania or somewhere). Something needs to be solved, or someone needs to be captured, and the only thing for it is to go out there and do it. Nobody else will, so I'm gonna go myself. I have some adventures, hunting up and down, through the city. Somewhere I'm joined by (or I join) Roger Moore and another girl, blonde, a friend of mine. We've captured a woman who's supposed to be involved in this thing, but it turns out she's been a victim herself. We're going to have to spend the night together, and we get very chummy. In fact we all end up having sex. Now, Roger has so far considered me more like a little sister, but I'm glad he's changed his mind. There's a brief discussion about condoms, and somebody does have some - it crosses my mind to be sure he changes them from one to another of us. As we start to undress, I end up getting closest to him, and rather feel I've taken over, which is okay with me. In other scenes, I run into a girl I know but don't like much - she's short and funny-looking (and I can't remember where I know her from) - she says she's glad to see me, we don't see each other much. The 1st of these times is in a building, the 2nd is outdoors - I'm trying to keep up with some people walking and she comes to stroll beside me. I'd like to get away from her. Eventually, we get back to the courtroom, the blonde girl and I - and we turn the place on its ear. We expose the ringleaders of the gang, which includes Groucho, and discover the crucial evidence at the top of one of the giant windows. It has Venetian blinds - somebody has to climb to the top and get whatever it is. Big show. All the perpetrators get hauled off to jail, protesting and threatening, and things get quiet again. Now it's all over, I look back and see it's been 3 weeks since all this started. "Tree weeks", I say, "that took 3 whole weeks." As if I'm amazed. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in a studio with a guy I know pretty well and a couple of other people (one's a woman, all young). He's a photographer or something and this is a kind of hidden place where they can do their own work, to experiment and try stuff out, and play. I'm a guest. Actually I've been here before, my px brought me here some time ago. He thought of it as a kind of crash pad. Now I see there's an organized group here and I'm a little sheepish about it. I don't want to tell them because they think hardly anybody knows about this place, and I don't want to disappoint them. It's morning - I think we've spent the night here. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm visiting out of town and am with Brad and An important person and somebody else, a woman. We're at a back yard, very large, it's dark and there's not much light - low to the ground, diffused, a bit eerie. B and R have crossed the yard to the back fence where there's a shed and I suppose the trash cans. They're working away at something quite happily. Don't know yet what they're doing but they'll be there a while and I need to go back there to be with them. I'm reluctant, because it's so far and dark - there's quite a few trees, and I've been threatened with kidnapping [I don't know why], and I'm scared to be alone. Just the same I start across, and right away someone starts coming after me - I don't know where he's actually come from but he's dark - can't see what he really looks like - trench coat and hat I think. I can dodge him but I don't think I can outrun him all the way to the back of the yard. I start yelling. Brad and An important person can't hear me - it's too far. I yell louder and louder and I'm afraid they'll never hear me, but finally they do. There's a fence back there, too, and I've got to get all the way to the right corner where the gate is, so it's even farther. But the others come running now and chase the guy - there are other people coming too, kind of like a hue and cry. I get comforted by the woman. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm at a fair-sort-of, very festive, clean place, lots of trees and light, but at a building like a church, school, something with grounds and passages. More an Artfest crowd, Sunday-dressed, well-behaved. There's a blonde guy and his wife interested in my necklace, slightly aggressive but not wanting to be overt about it - the wife walks off a bit to look at something else, I think so the guy can try to sweet-talk me out of it by himself. He is pretty good-looking in a yuppie sort of way, they're a nice pair. [quote note:] I take it out of its bag and it came apart - it's made ["long?"] like Tom's but bigger. [I don't know what that means now except that the pendant was made to come apart.] | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm on a bus with a friend, very late at night or early in the morning, we've arrived at a bus termina and we're stuck at the diner - the only place open - with no transportation. She's called her boyfriend, who's come to "rescue" us, we've really had it, tired, draggy after the long ride - he takes us in hand, his poor little waifs - buys us breakfast. (He looks like Richard Masur.) Buncha food, bacon and eggs and that, piled up on those plates - he passes them magnanimously. I have to move some tables around in this place so I can eat facing away from the other customers. Coupla groups like families with kids and I can't quite fit in the middle. There was hardly anybody here at first, but lots more people are coming in. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm with my brother, at a fair coming up to the zoo building. There are some Highland-games sorts of things going on behind, I can see, and I thought my borther would want to see but we go on in. There are several cute furry animals we look at, and I want to get quite close, but they're pretty vicious and they want to bite me. The keeper has to keep a good hold on them. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in England visiting (or not - maybe I'll stay) and have been staying with my brother and somebody, who's just left for a weekend or something and My brother's going home. He doesn't really want to but it's got to do with his health or something, he has to. He's taking me to the train/underground/something stop, I'm going further north to visit a friend and we're running late. He has to be leaving right away himself - he says "Hard to believe, at (8.45?) in the morning I'll be back home". I realize suddenly he can keep my cat for me - that'll be such a good idea. He says well, maybe - you don't mean permanently do you? I say, well no, of course I'll just be here a while. But maybe not. I'd like to be able to stay. Now we've gotten to the place for me to get the train - it's dark and there's nobody around. I was supposed to be there at 8-something - .35 or .45, and it's 9 now straight up. For a minute we hope the train's late but surely it's been and gone and what will I do now? He can't stay, I may just have to stay here instead for the weekend. Won't kill me. Earlier (or I got north anyhow) - I'm with the girl I'm visiting - she's a teenager, just going off to school soon. She talks about where she's going to go and I suggest she check out Cambridge and Oxford and those places - she seems to have the idea that those places are only for well-off men and not just anybody. I say they're not and she might as well go somewhere really good if she can. We also talk about her having a car and seeing it repaired - I have a suggestion, something I learned from my px, about the exhaust system? She's a bit excited about having a car of her own, and being able to go around where she wants to. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm walking in a mall and there's a store that sells silver and I think I'll duck in and look at silver flatware but at first I don't see any and it all seems to be big stuff so I go out and around again. The store is sort of self-contained and has 2 or 3 entrances, so I can go around it and look in the windows and all. I get to the other side and see the room with the flatware is over here. Besides, there's a man following me (or he sure looks like it) and I want to get someplace else, somewhere with people. I go in, see some stuff and see that this outer room is only samples and the main collection's in the next room - they probably have everything. It's a big room with lots and lots of styles and their prices are good. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
A guy I'm with behaving as if I'm "pursuing" him, when I just like having his company. We're riding in a car first, I think, then walking down a hall/mall, and he says he's going a different way but he doesn't get very far before we're both interested in some person or thing on the way. He's a nice guy but reluctant to invest himself. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
There's some sort of fair going on and I'm returning from somewhere, coming up on it from behind - it's late, dark, I think they're trying to close down. Still a lot of people here, though, looking at examples of international crafts. I can't get through going up into the tents, so I go around back till I have to go through one with lots of racks of Japanese clothes in. There are long coats, where a sign says "Happi Coats" - I don't think that's right for them - and some shorter ones. I go through and up some stairs - there's 2 levels in here - and out.
(Same place, yes?) Sue is interviewing someone on cable TV, and members of the LT community are doing the support jobs, doing the camera, etc. - I'm asked to take over when someone else needs to leave, he or she's just put the camera down and I'm not sure what to do with it. It's actually very like a shotgun mike, it has a conical end on it and you just sort of hold it out there, but I'm having lots of trouble keeping it steady and I can't tell what I'm actually "hitting" with it. I'm picturing this whole interview being shown from side to side and pictures of their feet. Finally when I think it's stable they get up to end the interview and move. And I don't know how to shut it off, either. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm working in Circulation and just about to leave - this place is sort of a cross between a fair and a theater and a library, and there's a lot of people bustling out there. The desk is busy. One of my co-workers comes in the back office where I am, with (Alma?) and says we've got a money problem - something hasn't come out right about yesterday's fine money - we investigate and pretty soon find the problem. Yesterday was actually okay, but somebody's counted the first 5 for today without changing dates, making yesterday's look wrong. We're all relieved, and I can go home now. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
There's a "Dating Game" TV show - the 3 contestants are nice young girls, all quite different. One's black, I'm not sure if the other 2 are both white, but they all work at pretty ordinary jobs and have pretty ordinary lives. This game has a new twist: of the 3 guys they each get to pick from, there's one "ringer" - a blonde, gorgeous hunk that none of them would probably connect with in real life (he looks rather like George Michael, but less nasty) - and he gets to be in each group. If any of the girls picks him they get an extra prize. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm with Jonathan Richman (who looks more like Bob Geldof), arriving at his house for a visit. I don't know him very well but we're striking up a friendship, and since I'm in England he's brought me to see/meet his wife (have I already met her?). He pulled up to the back door and we've gotten out and I'm looking at the back yard, which is huge. It's not so big a place that you can't see anything else; the lawn goes on for a long time but there are other houses and streets and buildings to be seen. And the house itself is situated on a street, rather a nice one. The house is old, fairly large, and 2 or 3 stories, with a large set of steps up to the back door. Not a big porch, though. We go up and he unlocks the door, and we go into the kitchen, then through to the front living room. We pass the stairs. Jonathan is talking about 2 or 3 things, and I start to ask if his wife is upstairs, but then I notice the furniture and open my mouth to mention that. This house is not fancy, by a long shot - it's in good repair, I expect, but not fixed up at all; the furniture is as old as the house practically, and threadbare. He's got what he needs, I guess, and I know he's happy here, satisfied, but it is a little sad-looking. Still it's not grubby or smelly or unpleasant. I start to say something, then stop - he says "What?" and I say pretty much the above, like for a minute I was thinking this wasn't very fancy for a rock star, then I'd thought, well, he hasn't been that famous for very long, after all, and just buying the house itself was a pretty big deal. I guess if he wants to fix up the furniture, he'll do it sometime. Meanwhile I'm being made quite comfortable here myself, and I appreciate it. I'm sitting on the couch when some other visitors come - a couple who are friends and a guy who's one of Jonathan's longtime buddies - since they were kids - they come in and sit and chat. The buddy is an inveterate storyteller and he makes very cheery conversation, and they ask me how long I'm staying and how I like it, all that stuff. (I'm sort of in the middle of my trip - I hope I have this much fun for the rest of it.) I'm looking out the window at the street scene, and there are various people out there including this older man who was here earlier - he's a bit dotty, tallish, wears a baggy raincoat, matching hat, sort of wild hair. He's just the sort of dotty that he comes up and makes strange conversation but doesn't get loud or difficult. He's out there talking to some kids. It's a lovely quiet and slow summer afternoon, nobody has anything pressing to do, people are out strolling and talking. I have to leave now, and I wish I could stay and talk longer, especially to the old-buddy fellow, he's a lot of fun and seems to like me. But I make my good-byes, and go out the front door, and drive down the street looking around at the houses and trees and things on the way. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm supposed to be at an exercise class but I'm late and I also have a doctor's appointment - I think I can still get in on the class, though - it's 9.30 now and the doctor probably won't be ready right on time. But it's cutting it awfully fine. I've been into the gym changing room and back out to my car already, now I'm changing my mind and I'm going to pull on my leotard here in the car. It'll be awkward but I think I can do it. But no, really I think I'll be in a mess if I do that, I'd better not. I go to the doctor's office and Sandie is standing on the porch. She's a bit serious about something. [We interact, but I don't remember it now.] | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm with Tom Selleck; we've been somewhere together on some sort of adventure, and come back to town successful and triumphant - even so, it's just us and our other companion (a dark-haired girl, like Barbara Parkins - she's somebody we rescued or picked up along the way.) - whatever we did, nobody knows about it yet, we're just getting back onto the streets and getting ready to go back to normal, I guess. "Barbara" goes off a bit and I can speak to Tom alone. He's wearing a black feather mask like the ones we saw at the Faire. We hug, relieved and tired and satisfied, and I say "I love you", inadvertently. He lets go and draws away just a little, looking askance. I put my hands on his face and say, look it's okay, I don't mean anything bad - just listen to me: show me the truth on your face, let me see the real you, and I'll tell you the truth: I do love you and I'm glad we were together. (I am feeling affectionate and also sure and grounded.) I'm entering the school auditorium, there's an aisle dividing the main floor from the balcony (kind of like the Movie theater, but nicer), and I see the beige/tan fabric on the walls and seats, it matches the carpet even. I usually sit in the balcony, but this time I think I'll try turning right instead and I go down the main floor - which steps down - and I see Cynthia and Linda sitting behind her, one side. So they wave and say hello and I go sit next to Cynthia. They're glad to see me. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm at a drive-in movie theater, big place, huge screen. We're all out of the car, visiting or doing something else - the movie isn't running anyway. It's been raining. There's a movie actor here, over at the office or whatever that is in the middle, down near the screen, he's doing a personal appearance. He seems to be a real nice guy, I'd like to get to know him. I'm wondering if I can. There's a dog here, too (I don't know if he's mine or not, black, biggish, nice dog, and he's got to come home with us, after having been somewhere for something. And he's gotten rained on. I'm worried it'll rain again and he'll get even wetter and then we'll have to drive back with him all a mess in the car. I get in the car for a minute, then coming back out I encounter a stinging insect which I'm not too pleased about. I wonder if I just got stung myself (I don't feel any pain on my skin), and if he'll be back to plague us on the way home. Actually the car's not in a good position, too close to another one, and I want to move it. So I push it. Somebody thinks I can't do it by myself, in the mud and all with other cars to run into, but it's really very easy. Just push, it goes, I turn the wheel, pull the handbrake to stop it. I got it maneuvered back into position very easily. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm getting to know a family who live next door in a house - I live in an apartment or condo with Dad and my Stepmother. There are several kids, teenagers and a little older, all pretty nice and we're palling around. We go somewhere, it's afternoon and we're just walking around, and we pass by something that I climb on like a little pile of rocks or something. We're talking away and having a good time. We get back to their house and there's kittens - not only the fuzzy, frisky size, but newborns too, lots of kittens - we visit them for a while. We go and sit, me and the girl, while one brother goes off to play baseball or something - these are active kids, they move around a lot. We talk about dinner but never get up to do anything about it. I talk to the oldest boy quite a lot, we seem to have a lot in common and he likes me, rather. I go on back to my apartment and see my family for a minute, then go on to my room. This room is big and white - everything is very arty, with clean spare lines, sliding doors, everything Design. Before I even get settled in, the boy from next door calls me on the phone - it's a wall phone with a lot of buttons - and he says he's just thought, why don't we go out somewhere? And I say, "When?" and he says "Right now" - I say, well, uh, um, I guess so - he seems pleased as hell, like he'd been working up to this and now it's actually true. And I'm thinking, well, now I've got a date with this kid - what am I gonna do? This is ridiculous - I don't even have anything to wear - he's gonna be dressed up [I don't know how I know that] and I don't have anything nice, I don't think. I figure I've got maybe 5 minutes before he gets here - I want to call my parents but I can't think what their extension is - I punch 2 numbers at random, thinking I might get lucky, but I get Winfred in the print shop, and I say "wrong number" and hang up - I guess I'll give that up and go look at clothes. As I get to the other side of the room where the "closet" is, next to the door, a passel of people come in. They're older, middleaged mostly, and they've come sort of as a tour group, but I know some of them. They want to see me, and hover around and get in my way and won't let me try things on. A couple of them ask how I feel and say I don't look well, suspiciously, as though they suspect I'm not taking care of myself. I tell them I'm ok, but I'm a little worried about what they mean - though not as worried as I am about getting dressed for this date. He's gonna be here any minute and I haven't so much as combed my hair, or anything.
Another scene, possibly in the previous dream but I'm not sure: I'm on the toilet, and finish a roll of toilet paper - the next one I take out seems a little different but I don't know how. Two people come in wanting toilet paper since they're also out, but they don't want this because it's smaller, too narrow. I look at it and see that it is, about 3/4 the size of a normal roll. Doesn't bother me any (though I do consider that the manufacturer has increased his profit at our expense), and I wonder what the others (one of them is Heidi) intend to do without any. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm with my brother at a place like a hotel with a race track, and he wants to practice driving. It's rainy and getting dark. We walk over to the place where the cars are and we meet a couple of old friends from years ago. They're all going to get together later. My brother drives off, one of the other guys goes ahead, and the other guy and I decide to mosey back to the hotel. [I'm unsure if I wanted to go somewhere else or get my stuff out of my car and go in.] Just before we get there I realize he's got my car key. I'm very concerned about this and I wonder if I should go flag him down in the car or not. First I go back across the parking lot to look on the ground for it. No dice, and it's gonna start raining. Just about the time I start off to flag him down, I find the key in my purse. I'm relieved. Also: I'm with a girlfriend (we're both quite young, aren't we?), having left my house walking through the neighborhood, and we pass by this guy's house. He lives here, we think alone, and he's pretty good-looking. (Dark hair, 30's, well-built.) His door is open, and we're not sure if he's home, but we take it into our heads to look after his plants. We come on in, looking round a bit, and get to watering and futzing with the plants - he's got a lot, hanging and on stands and things, in pots. Nice place, eclectic, lots of high ceiling and air in, interesting shadows. He's here, actually, but doesn't mind what we're doing - he's something like a writer and not very social, but not unfriendly either. Doesn't pay us a lot of mind. But his plants do need attention. While we're here, a woman comes in, around his age, nice looking - surprised to see us here. I don't know her, but I think she may be his girlfriend, and I hope she doesn't think we shouldn't be here. She may think this is her job. I'm uncomfortable and I expect we should go. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm with Arnold Schwarzenegger, who I keep calling Conan - he's driving me back from somewhere and I talk him into going to pick up Melanie, who's at a house somewhere in a neat neighborhood, and she's like spent the night with this unsavoury guy who may do her some harm, I think. So we get there - actually I think he knows the guy, or something, and goes in. Melanie comes out, I'm not sure she comes out the door, does she sort of "escape" out a window or something? Anyway, she gets to the truck and I'm rather nervous about being here and want to get away quick and Conan isn't coming out. I don't feel right about leaving him but I drive us off, and it's getting dark and (raining?). Actually now that we're on the road there's a 3rd person with us, another woman - we're on a big road, close to where we're going, with 3 lanes or so each way, and lotsa traffic, and the road being torn up. I'm not having that easy a time handling this truck, and what with the slick road it skids and turns over on its side. We're not hurt, but we gotta get out and away from the traffic - we scramble to the front and I can see all these other cars coming and I'm terrified they're going to crash into us and pile up several, right on top of us. We're scrambling over the piled-up road and clamber over into the big ditch by the side of the road. Geez what a relief. But now we gotta be rescued from the ditch. We watch for a while and people come with emergency cars and stuff. Then we go over to the left side (backward, that is) where there's a bit of ledge we can climb up on and stand close to the top. Some people come there to help - turn out to be somebody I know (LT? SOCIETY FOR THE CREATIVE ANACHRONISM?), so we stand and talk while we're waiting for someone to pull us out. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm going to see a preview of a play or maybe poetry reading or something, very small potatoes, in a small theater that's part of some other institution. I've been invited to come for free by Jon, who's instrumental in getting this thing put on, he may have even written some of it. I've come up the hall to where the door is, and I say hi to Jon, who's also just come up and is waiting for his wife, to bring some things. She comes up with this huge load of stuff, even a bouquet of roses sticking up over her face. I make some joke about her having to carry all this stuff, but nobody notices. The roses are to go right here at the entrance. Another person I know, Rory, comes up (I haven't seen her in a long time and she sure looks different) and we all exchange greetings. Jon offers us each a rose (he's all dressed up in a tux, by the way) and as I take it I realize it isn't real, it's wax or something. They do smell, and I put it to my nose and then for a laugh I take a bite of it. I'm not really sure quite what it's made of, after all. It tastes almost as if it were meant to be eaten. I believe I'll take another bite, but I'll wait till Paula can't see me so she won't think I don't care about my pretty rose. So Rory and I go on inside. There doesn't seem to be anyone taking tickets even if we had any, but we wanted to make sure. This is certainly is a tiny place, probably 20 people across by maybe 15 down, tops. Behind the rows is a little gift shop, I guess for the whole building, not just the theater. Rory looks at some stuff there and I look at something just outside its entrance. Someone does come to take tickets, I guess he just stepped out. I wonder if we'll have to explain we've been invited for free. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
Mom and I are at a fair or something and leaving. It's an old-time sort of thing, very ethnic, and we come past a pastry booth where they're selling things like kolaches, but they're not flat, they're like little pastry tulips, most of them, and have a lot of different fillings, savoury or sweet, and have a different name [which I've forgotten]. All these women are behind the counters, dressed in their old-country costumes and talking loudly in their old-country accents. I didn't think Mom would want to stop at all, but she does, and I didn't think she'd want the sweet ones, but she does, and we make our way to the right-hand counter. The booth is all wood, with a rooflet and darkish. The place is open, and make L-shape with an extra corner: The meat and vegetable fillings on the left and the fruit fillings on the right. We go over to the right and have a look, then turn to the center where the actual counter is [in the diagram above, the upper right corner], and talk to the blonde woman there. She has a sharp voice, all business. I look at the fruit fillings; I can see blueberries, all plump and round. Back left I can see the nice little tulip-shapes and some kind of meat fillings. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in another theater, a big one, not many people here, and I'm with a group. We're sitting down close to the front, center, and somebody asks us to move. I don't know why, but we do move to the back, where there's some other things, like an opening into a large hallway with pinball and video machines. There's a ledge where some of the older ones of us sit down, and I'm not real happy standing, so I take a spot there too. The show hasn't started, won't for a while yet - this isn't entertainment we've come for, but something maybe political or social, something dramatic - I think we're planning to "do" something ourselves and that's why there's this tension, a real sober undercurrent among us; I don't know about the other people here. Nobody's talking about it. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm in a garage with a girlfriend; we've just been out somewhere and are going back through town, stopping here to get the car worked on or something, and we're still in very jolly spirits (it was a fun outing) and poking around in this garage. She's looking out the window at the street and turns back to tell me she's just seen this good-looking guy that I was drooling over at wherever-we've-been, go into a store across the street! She teases me about it, saying I should go talk to him, and I'm thinking about it. In the meantime [something we do causes a big oil spill on the floor of the garage, and the men who work here come back from outside and are not happy about it.] Still, we're very lighthearted and girlish, giggling over the boy. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I've been at a large glamorous motel, it's night, the place is all lit up and glittery, festive. [Something dramatic happens, and I end up leaving the scene in a hurry in a van with somebody else, being driven by a young boy.] We seem to be driving away from the motel, but it's much bigger than I thought, and the buildings keep on looking alike as we drive through. We've already turned right twice. The buildings are less glamorous now, but you'd suppose they would be. We make another right turn, and come into another neighborhood, and drive along a fence which is down an alley; or at least the fence is between two blocks of houses back-to-back; it doesn't seem like an alley, really. We come to where the fence stops, and get out. For some reason we're reluctant to go to the other side of the fence, because we're not sure what's there. So we walk around rather than take the van. On the other side it's daylight. It looks just like the side we were on, houses and all just the way it should be, but it's daylight instead of night. (Actually it's not pitch dark anyway - you might think of it as more dawn, you can see a bit - but not dusk, it's definitely been night.) We look back again to see, and by George it's still night over there, and day here. There's something suspicious about this and uncomfortable, like this daylight is not the way it's supposed to be, and we're going to get into big trouble if we stay here. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm married to somebody, living in a house with kids (I guess they're mine) - fairly ordinary small house, Forties, Fifties maybe, not in great repair; I think there's maybe one of the kids home, otherwise just me. Right now I'm straightening some things up, I've got some old junk out to clean up or throw out, and it's cold in here, so I go look at the thermostat. It's on the wall next to a table [like mine really is] and it's coming apart. It's not even easy to read - parts of it are hanging down. I fiddle with it some and think maybe it's gone for good; I think I can read the temperature on it and it's set okay but is it really working? I'm not sure I can read what it really is. While I'm over there I knock a box of hair combs off the table onto the floor and one of them breaks. I see it between the table and the wall, and the ornaments came off and are lying face down - one of them as I pick it up looks like a dead spider and I drop it, then I reach for another bit that's definitely a feather and I realize that it was only a butterfly made of feathers. So I pick that up, and the comb, and the rest of 'em - they're all that plastic tortoise-shell stuff. I'm also taking some old bits of things with gunk all over them out of a box to un-muck, and these things I've got now are covered with wax like somebody burned candles in them. I can pull it all out at once - turns out they're some kind of levellers for furniture. We can maybe use them. I've also got quite a lump of wax/gunk here, kind of interesting. While I'm near it, I see a shape scurrying along the wall. I just know it's a rat or something equally nasty. I throw the lump of gunk at it (after moving chairs and stuff out of the way) and I may have hit it but didn't do it any damage - it scurries further to an open door that leads into the attic. So that's where it came from. It's gone out of sight, but reappears with a baby in its mouth. Now I can see it's not a rat but a possum [however, in the dream it really didn't look like one, it looked more like a prairie dog - I just called it a possum], not so dangerous but I still don't want it running around my house, especially not depositing babies. It freezes when it sees me, and I clap and shout to scare it. It jumps and jostles the opposite door, which leads into one of the boys' rooms. This is no great help but I don't know what else to do right now. In fact, people are starting to come in now - my husband's home, several friends are coming for dinner, kids home from school. I'm feeling up now, this is fun, cares are on the back burner, I'm chatting with a girlfriend in the kitchen - small kitchen, small house, but we're comfortable. My husband is nearby, telling stories and jokes, I'm feeling very affectionate toward him but we do have our differences. He's saying something about me, that he thinks is funny, about me being incompetent or something, and I think it's not only untrue but offensive. I look over to him and say "I'm what?" and he looks like, "heh-heh, isn't she cute"; I go over and face him and he says "I was only making a joke" and I get fed up and decide to leave. I'm tired of this kind of thing, it happens too much and I'm just not going to stand for it. Maybe I'll leave for good - right now I just believe I'll go out and have a good time - find a friend, have a drink, do my own thing. By coincidence, a woman I know is just passing and I hitch a ride with her. She's on her way somewhere but doesn't mind dropping me off - maybe Barbara will be home, and I'll stay there, or Linda. While we're driving along, we chat, and I'm still trying hard to remember the name of the blonde actress who used to do everything on TV in the 60's. I keep coming up with Madelyn Rhue, but that's wrong, and another name, but the right one won't come. We drive around a building that has a few shops in it, on the street; the corner one has a stucco front and a window above the main window and the door, and there's what I take to be a plaster ornament above the main window. It's a cat, a purple and white one - not dark purple, or quite lavender, but noticeable when you look. Only it's stuck on sideways, as if the wall was the cat's floor. However, now I can see the cat is real, a live, breathing cat sitting casually on the wall like nothing was unusual. It moves, it licks its paw, just like normal. I strain out the car to peer at it, and call to my friend, you've got to see this! So she looks, and we don't know what to make of it, and we go on. We come to a sort of tiny, sad-looking laundromat next to a matching sort-of 7-11 and stop next to an open vehicle with two men in it. One of them gets out and as he passes my side, he casually reaches in and lifts out a little round purse by its shoulder strap, which has been lying on the dashboard, and it's easily reached by the very front of the window, because the window's been broken out. I'm startled, and I say "Wait! That purse, put that back!" (or words to that effect) and my friend says "What?" and I ask her if that isn't her purse (she hadn't been watching), and tell her what he did. He's gone on into the laundromat and I get out and start after him and point at the car and say something to the other man (like, "Isn't that your friend and didn't I just see him take that purse?") and he starts to back the car out while the first one runs out and down the street. I'm verbally calling out descriptions of them and the car - it's a lot like a VW Thing or some form of Jeep but I can't see what for all the numbers painted on the back. I'm not even sure I can remember the license # for all the other stuff. I run behind and grab onto the back to get a closer look, then jump off. We go into the 7-11 thing, where they've seen all this and we're going to call the police. But suddenly the first guy (darkish, maybe Mexican, with a mustache) (the other had been bigger and handsomer, Caucasian with brown hair, looked pissed off while the first one had been swaggering and smug - both wore light short-sleeved shirts, the Caucasian one's a knit polo) comes bursting into the place and now he's got a gun, a revolver. I'm pretty shaken, but I get down behind a table and pull it up in front of me. He definitely wants to shoot me, that's what he's come back for, he's real mad. I say "Do you really mean to kill me just for a little purse that probably didn't have anything in it anyway?" I'm getting a real sober feeling that I'm about to get actually shot, maybe killed, and I sure don't like it but I'm determined not to panic. I'd rather get shot deliberately, knowing what's happening, than to panic and be desperately scared too. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
At Faire for some other reason, ran into Dara - I forgot she'd be here for a workshop of some kind, don't know what, attending with a friend I don't know. They collar me to talk, they're on a lunch break. I explain what I'm looking for, they can't help. I need to leave soon. Before I can go, I get stopped by another person I know, [can't place her for sure - some Sandra, some Suzann] a blonde girl, who cuddles up against me as we sit with some other people watching a sort of training/educational film on a screen. Actually it's kind of interesting, and it's comfortable here, I can't stay long, though. I get to thinking about the trip and how tiring it will be - I hope I don't have to spend my whole vacation recovering from the trip up and then spoil it with the trip down. I'm thinking, maybe I could go up in stages - stay overnight between legs, or something. How would that be? I'll investigate it. This girl and I are quite comfortable, she keeps leaning into me and we also hold hands. I really like this, I appreciate the affection. But I'm not entirely comfortable, and I do have to go now the film's over. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm at the Faire site, either midweek or after closing (though the sun's out) - everybody's gone and all the booths are empty. [It looks different, of course.] There are some SOCIETY FOR THE CREATIVE ANACHRONISM people around, doing their thing, still in costume. One of them has videotaped something during the day, I think a minor event of theirs, when there were plenty of people about - all of them were in costume, I notice - just like a real fair. I look around on the screen for myself, but I'm not in it. It's interesting to look at the same scene you're looking at right now, only with people, then without, then with, then without. They'd as soon I stayed and played with them, but I have to be on my way. I brought Tree with me and I have to fetch him. [I can't remember if he was in a carrier and got out, or had been out all along.] I keep calling "Tree!" and I'm getting worried. But now I do hear him, somewhere. I call some more and I think I hear him from under this vehicle here that's under an open shelter. Then I hear catfight noises, and I break it up only to find it's not Tree after all, but a big fluffy dark-gray-striped cat who's with a friend, worrying a koala bear, a small one. Well! The gray cat's pretty mad, but he knows not to mess with me, and takes off shortly. This still leaves me not knowing what to do with this koala bear, and I've got to find Tree. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm on a city street, walking, there are lots of people around, I know at least some of them, that is to say I live here and am a part of this place, I belong here. It's daytime but the sun's not terribly bright - a workday. From somewhere comes a fire alarm, sounds like the one at work, and everybody starts moving to certain places, as though it's backwards and you respond to this signal by going underground rather than outside. There's no fear, everybody seems to know or assume it's a fire drill [and that's what it's called, too - there's no assumption that it's anything else, like bombs]. The place I'm going to is at a corner, and looks like a drain opening. I'm not sure exactly what to do, but Kay is right in front of me and she says we go down here. I'm thinking surely a person can't get into that, but as I get closer I see it's bigger than I thought. Still it looks awfully cramped, and I'm not looking forward to squeezing into it and maybe hurting myself, but Kay just steps into it and goes down like she's walking on a staircase. By George, that's what it is, and it's even big enough for more than one person. [I'm not conscious of the opening actually getting bigger, but surely it must be - it looked so very different from time to time as I approached.] Now we're part of a group steadily moving down the stairs to what looks like an Underground station. Kay goes off somewhere else, but I'm staying here in the near vicinity, and there are 3 or 4 guys sitting together in a sort of small auditorium, near the back. There's nothing actually going on in here, just people sitting through the fire drill, and I chat a bit with these guys. They're maybe in their twenties, buddies - I'm not entirely comfortable with them, they don't altogether want me in their group, but I don't want to go off anywhere by myself. We talk about getting something to eat - there's a sort of kitchen nearby, and the idea is something like (pizza?), maybe we could get that together. But I'm not sure, maybe I should get some fruit instead. I get up and I'm actually thinking about going up outside. [The idea is like there's a fruit-cart out there, or something - it's a bit mixed up with my basket of fruit on the counter. And this in spite of the fact that there hasn't been an all-clear signal yet, we're not supposed to go out - and I have the idea you stay down for quite a while when you do this.] | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm with or associated with some branch of the government and I know the office where Adderly works (but I don't actually work there myself) and I have something to tell him about a girl who's the center of the case he's working, but I can't get to him to tell him. I've been at the scene where something had happened and there were a lot of men doing the police-y things they do at crime scenes, but I couldn't get inside, so now I'm here at the office but he's not. He does come in briefly but has to leave again right away and I'm pretty much at a loss and so are the other girls here. What we have is a kind of counter-office enclosure like you see in old buildings (I'm thinking of the car-license area in the Records Building, where there's public traffic and individual desks both) and 3 or 4 office-girls work in here, but they're not "operational", as it were. I give up and go outside the enclosure to go away and I talk to a girl I know who's at the front of the counter and sticking up through it. There's some reason for this normally but she's in here this time trying to fix something. There's a door inside that slides up and down to open the compartment where you sit with your head and shoulders (and arms?) out of the counter, to deal with the public. She's having trouble with the door and shows me. I commiserate and leave. After I leave I go for a drive (?) out in the country. As I continue on the road that led out of town it gets narrower and the fields grow right up to it and finally tall plants - corn, maybe, or wheat - are overhead and you can't see from side to side. I stop at the entrance to a sort of crafts fair or show or something, off to the left in a building or set of buildings behind the plants. [They remind me of another crafts fair I dreamed about, that was in something like a monastery. Very open place.] I go into a room where there are exhibits of Victorian lace and dolls and pretty bedroom furniture. At the same time a little girl and her mother come into the room, and the little girl is very pretty, dressed like a doll herself, and has a tail on a string that she's dragging around with her, as if it were a pull-toy. [Does she have a cat with her, as well? Dunno.] I look at this tail as well as I can without staring, and I think it's a cat's tail, but I think to myself, "surely it can't be - perhaps a rabbit's instead". [Notwithstanding rabbits' tails aren't long and striped.] Her mama says something to her, and the drift of the comment includes a remark about her kitties - such as a reference to "when we got blank and blank" (whatever their names were), and presumably one of them is still here [aha - does this mean she does have a cat with her?]. I ask casually what about the other cat and Mama says "Oh, he died" - of something or other - however she put it, it was made plain that the cat died naturally and this tail is a sort of memento for the kid. I'm relieved. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm at work [which isn't the library, at least as I know it] and I'm making records on some kind of imprinting machine - it makes plastic labels like a label gun does. I ask my supervisor what to call it, and (he/she?) says something incoherent and goes off. This has been happening lately, and it's getting worse. (He/she?) is a trifle hostile with it, and I'm wondering - along with the other people here - how it's going to end. (He/she?) is going off (his/her?) rocker, and yet is still the boss here. Mostly we're ignoring it and getting the job done anyway, but it can't go on forever. I'm on a roof or ledge, with a rail around it, not a very big place, just concrete, next to probably an apartment house. There are several other girls here with me, people I work with I think, and we're just talking. Across the street is a foreign-car garage - it doesn't look like one, of course, it's a small but architecturally interesting (stucco?) building with 2 sections, looking rather like cylinders. We know what it is because we know MT runs it - it's new, he just got set up and this is a pretty mature and positive thing to do. Also pretty classy, because he's working on fancy cars for fancy people. There isn't much room on this ledge and the rail isn't very high, but I lean out over it for a better look at this garage while we're talking. MT himself comes and joins us. He doesn't look like he used to. He's shaved his beard and his hair is a different style and he looks pensive and a little sad. [Actually, of course, it's not even MT's face, beard or no beard - it's still a small regular face with dark hair and eyes - also no glasses! - but it's a handsomer face with softer features.] I'm sitting on a concrete ledge on the street next to a vendor of pastries - this is a downtown area, very bustling, cosmopolitan - open-air bistros and vendors, pedestrians. MT is sitting on my right and a couple I know rather better are sitting on my left. We're all three chatting away, but MT is sort of detached and pensive. It starts to rain, pretty hard too, and I have an umbrella which after a moment's fumbling I get up and put over both of us. Me and MT, that is, and he seems a little surprised. The other couple get up and leave (I think to get out of the rain), but we stay and the rain slacks off. I talk to the pastry man a bit and he shows me his wares. It's a bit awkward with MT, we're both being kind of shy. I thought it was odd that the umbrella turned out to be big enough for both of us easily, but we don't have to squeeze up against each other. I find him only mildly attractive because of his looks and his shyness, but I'm sure the reticence goes much deeper and I don't like that. I'm sure I don't want to get involved with him. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm at a small fair, an old-fashioned theme fair, taking place on a parking lot and in a small building or so, some booths set up inside. I've arrived in a little vehicle that's more like a table, painted red, that you operate single-handed, it sort of flies and sort of rolls. I came by myself, and I've run into Trisha and Lori - they knew I'd be here and we planned to meet. We've gone into this little building and Trisha and I are talking at the counter of this food booth while I look over what they've got and decide what to order. I know the middle-aged blonde lady behind the counter has seen me but she hasn't asked what I want. A man comes up to the counter and orders something (they have some interesting, old-fashioned food here) and I'm sort of vaguely conscious of hearing the woman say "That's the last one" but didn't know what she was talking about. Finally I turn back to see if I can order something, and see that all the food's been taken away and the place shut down. The woman and her assistant are still there around the corner and I go ask her how come she didn't wait on me. She's very brusque and uncaring and says I didn't seem to want anything, so she didn't ask. I feel very hurt and slighted - first she waits on that man before, giving him the last of something before I even get a turn, now she shuts the place down and I can't even get anything to eat. I'm hungry - this isn't fair. I'm also embarrassed that I got into this fix. I go out with Trisha and Lori, but I veer off when they're not looking and go to my "car" and go away. (To drive this thing you start it very much like a car, with both feet, then "drive" it with your hands and your feet trail out behind if you want, or you can keep them up - doing a kind of front bend. Mainly all you do is steer. I don't think you can go up very high, but the wheels on the legs don't always touch the ground.) I drive away and back "home" (I think) down a road with an open hill and wide view of town (much like Hampton hill), then to a neighborhood. [I think I live here - it's sort of like a cross between streets and an apartment hallway. Families live here, and know each other - somebody's always leaning out the front door and talking to someone, or having people over.] | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm at a little gallery or building being used for one, it used to be a house, I imagine. We're setting up an art show in the front room - there are maybe half a dozen artists or less, one of whom is MT, I'm assisting him. This is not just people with oil paintings, it's a variety of things, and what M is showing are little airplanes. They're not replicas, or toys exactly, but they're stylized and cute. The group of people have exhibited together before, and it's a cooperative effort. They've been doing this once a year - though this may only be the 2nd year, I don't know. Anyway, there are people bustling about, putting things up, looking after details. There's somebody in charge, he comes around to check how things are going every now and then, nice polite friendly guy in a suit. One of the things I'm doing is looking out for anything odd. Last year there was a disturbance, a robbery or something, and this time MT has assigned me to poke around and see if there's anything out of the ordinary to suggest something similar might happen. I haven't seen anything, but I have been around to the back of the house and gone into a couple of other rooms. We're behaving kind of like secret agents or something, but we really don't want anything to happen.MT has one of his airplanes suspended on a thread from the ceiling, and I decide it will look better near the entrance where some other things are, to give people coming in a hint of what they'll see. It comes down easily enough, but I'll need help getting it stuck back up, so I go fetch a chair. There's a bar in this room, a padded one like you see in - well, bars, with lots of glasses and it curves around. I get a chair from there. A friend offers to help and I do need it - he's not quite Don Mahon, but that's who I think of. So we tack the thread up where I want the airplane to hang. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm moving into a new place - a small frame house, oldish, not fancy or in the best of repair, but it's got character and it's on a nice quiet street with trees and bushes and flowers. There's a couple of huge bushes out front next to the walk, and the place is almost enclosed by foliage on the sides. It has a sort-of porch on the front, or a closed-off part of the yard, no floor to it. Tree is here, and maybe MB and Rio, too, but I'm not sure about them - certainly some other cats are here. There are boxes about, some furniture, definitely looks like somebody just moving in and making do. I go out on the "porch" for some reason, and Tree goes with me. I'm not altogether sure this is a good idea because he might be able to get outside - this isn't all that secure. By George, he has gotten out, under the "fence" over on the - suddenly I have a memory of this being fenced in, not a porch - how can it be two things at once? But I have a clear picture of both in my mind as I write. I'm very concerned about Tree being outside - all kinds of things could happen to him. I'd better go get him - but I'm not wearing any clothes. I try calling to him, but he won't come in. So I'm going inside to put something on, some shorts. I go out to see if I can persuade him to come back in. It's dark, just before dawn, and I don't expect anybody will see me. Tree is under those big bushes, facing another cat, a big tough neighborhood tom who's itching for a fight. They're doing all the pre-fight staring and growling and I'm still just calling to Tree to come in. Just as I go toward him, a car comes down the street - the headlights are on, of course, and they can probably see me. I can see it's a couple of nice-looking young guys in the car, and I sure don't want them to see my boobs hanging out like this, so I turn away with my arms in front of my chest and go back somewhat out of the light. I decide I'd better go back in and put on a T-shirt. I'm inside, telling the other cats what's going on and how I'm worried about Tree, somewhat frantically looking for a T-shirt, when suddenly it's light outside. And as I'm noticing that and just getting a shirt on, here's Tree back in - I'm wondering how he got back in so fast, and didn't make a sound. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm with Lauren and Trisha, downtown, near the library - Trisha is getting a job downtown somewhere and we're talking about how we can go to lunch together. For practice we decide we'll go now, and Trisha suggests this one place that's in the Center. I propose that it's too far away, but she says there's good fast roads and the tollway you can get there by. So we go in her car and swing way out left of downtown (what would be west, since I'm looking north) and we go on some roads I don't recognize. The areas look like some other town, some much older town. There are some nice buildings here, and some nice-looking apartment buildings with vacancy signs - I'd like very much to investigate this. It would be a nice place to live. Somehow we end up not at a restaurant but at their (?) house. [It's a newer house than the one they live in, but still probably Fifties.] It's very reminiscent of houses we lived in (my family) when I was a kid, and there's not much furniture or stuff on the walls, as if they just moved in. (The light reminds me of the house in The suburbs.) [There was more after this: I think a cat was involved and something hanging on a doorknob, but it's gone now.] | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm at a workshop with John Boats but (most?) of these people I don't know - it's pretty big, being held partly in a big arena, partly in a small room or gym with risers. In the arena something takes place where I have to go to the stage. In the other place we've brought our overnight gear and I keep getting up and rearranging my bags, which seem to keep multiplying. They're mostly tote bags like my dingy canvas one, but my suitcase is here, too, and all this stuff got dumped when we came in the room and I don't want people to trip over it. I hope I'm being quiet enough but I know I'm becoming a nuisance getting up over and over - it's obsessive. John is writing things on a board, but it's turned at an angle that makes it hard for me to read. It's as though he's talking about business, or a business he's using as an example of something. I'm not following, of course. The people I'm sitting near are a young married couple with a child or two. The things they talk about are so different, they seem older than me, but I don't think they are, much. The workshop ends (or there's a break), and some of us go out to the lobby where there's a big display of or about some company, fictitious, meant to demonstrate something, and built by this young man that's here. There are several people visiting from outside too. As we look we discuss what we were learning and it seems this display company is sort of plagiarized from or a rehashing of the one John was talking about. The young man looks slightly sheepish but amused. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |
I'm supposed to marry a guy who's a lot like My ex - I said I would because I thought it was too late for me to find another man who'd be willing to marry me and I'm worried I'll be sorry if I don't, later. I'm thinking about this and how I don't want to go through with it but I guess I can stand it. Then I think of having sex with him and can't stand the idea. I decide to break it off with him. He's a wimpy little guy with glasses and I think of him in a dark suit. | alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer |