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alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 298 | 1985-1997 | 10/15/90 | F | A | I'm in my office building, having left the office for a break or an errand, and I'm on my way back. This place bears more of a resemblance to where Lori works at the museum than to the library, it's sort of a maze of offices and walls and steps and corridors, but nice anyway, there's light and air. I'm scooting along on my chair (my back chair, only with wheels), and I think people are going to think I'm crazy. I pass a couple of people in the drafting area who turn and look at me. I'm going through some unfamiliar offices because I took a wrong turn somewhere. I'm in my own kitchen, trying to trap a scorpion on the floor with a wad of paper towel. I'm really determined to get it because scorpions are so dangerous, and I've got to be real careful. I'd take it outside if I could, like the cockroaches, but I don't believe I can. It escapes me for a while but I get the paper towel over it and squash it - not very hard, but when I lift it up to see if I've killed it, there's nothing left but goo mostly. I didn't think they were that fragile. | 2JSA, 1FKA, 1ANI | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 299 | 1985-1997 | 10/23/90 | F | A | I'm at work - sort of - it's the library, but doesn't look normal. Our office is a sort of long alcove, and there aren't any desks - just chairs facing out, lined up along the wall, 4 or 6 of them. I'm on the end away from the wall, and my chair is different. (I guess it's my stool.) There's a rectangular carpet in front of me, rather Persian-looking, but it's pretty thin and flat. It needs to be replaced, and I've put in a request but no response so far. Joe Bearden comes by, to use the copier I guess, and he's the one who deals with these things, so I ask him about it. He says that some measuring has to be done, so I get out my yardstick and we go to it. The carpet isn't actually straight, it turns out; at the spot where it crosses the metal strip on the floor that divides our office it jogs a little bit, and also a bit further on. You can't really see it until you put the yardstick down next to it, but it does mean that the new carpet will have to be specially made to correspond. About this time I realize how late it's getting, and I've got a yoga class to get to. I don't have a car at the moment, and I haven't got another way to get there since it's too late for (the bus?), so I'll have to take a cab. The class is in a place I haven't gone before, it's being held at a middle school almost all the way to my Mom's house. I'm sharing the cab with a guy I know, and he knows how to get there, so he tells the driver, but he doesn't go that way. The guy says that's okay, it's just another way to get there, but the driver seems to prefer this one. Heigh-ho. At the school, we pull into a sort of enclosed carport, and I get out. I don't know where to go, but there are a number of kids about, so I ask a boy who's with a group on the stairs. He doesn't know himself, but says he'll go in and ask a teacher. When he comes back, he takes me inside to a room that looks like it belongs in a school, rather old and institutional. It's next to a sort of kitchen. The boy introduces me to a teacher who says I can wait here while he goes to locate the class, but his look and manner suggest he thinks it's rather odd for me to be here. And he says he thought the class was just for kids. Well, he goes off to find out how I can get there, and I start wondering if maybe he's right - is this just a class for junior-high school kids? Ooh. I may be very out of place here. (The class, by the way, is one of the regular City Yoga Center classes - I think Fred's teaching. I just haven't ever come to this one before.) The teacher is gone a very long time, during which I doze off for a minute. After a while of poking around bored, I notice that it's flat dark outside. Good grief, how did that happen? I look out the window - I listen - I realize that there's nobody here. A lot more time has passed than I thought. The class is probably even over by now. I'm also concerned about how I'm going to get out of here. If I can find a phone I can call Mom, but that also means I'll have to find an unlocked door. I go towards the kitchen door and realize I'm hearing voices. Walking into the room, I find 2 or 3 women standing in a group, talking. One of them looks particularly startled when she sees me - and as I start to explain myself and ask how I can find a phone, etc., she lays into me like nobody's business, saying, "Don't you pull that stuff on me, I know all about people like you, you'd better get your butt right out of here" - or words to that effect. I apologize for being a nuisance and all and try to talk again, but she starts in again. She's quite pissed. One of the other women starts to speak to me - without the hostility - and the first one goes again. By this time I've had about enough abuse, and I say so. I raise my voice and very firmly tell her I'm not going to take any more crap from her, I want a telephone so I can call my mother to come get me out of this place*. She clams up. Another woman (who I think came up in the middle of this) takes over and says she'll help me out, so she escorts me away. She's very nice, this person - she's rather short, with medium brown hair, nice friendly face and manner if a bit reserved. Next thing, we're in a bathroom; I'm looking at myself in a mirror and we're having a conversation. | 1MKA, 1FKA, 1MKA, 2JSA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 300 | 1985-1997 | 11/16/90 | F | A | I'm the director of a play being put on by my little "group" - we're some sort of social or community group, maybe LT. This place is perhaps a local community rec. center, or otherwise a sort of borrowed facility - not fancy, panelled walls, not much furniture, several rooms. We're getting organized in here - it isn't easy, they're all standing around chatting, nonchalant. I'm not feeling at all confident - it's as if somebody else is in charge, and I'm only supposed to do a job when it's my turn, but I know I'll have to take over pretty soon... Eventually we go outside to rehearse. We're doing the play pretty soon and don't have all that much time to get it down. (I think we do it for real this afternoon.) There's a space nearby that we marked out to rehearse in on the grass (this is a public park, though there aren't a lot of people about). There's something (an archery target, I think) at this end of the space, and the actor we're watching at the moment is at the far end nearer the trees. This is Shakespeare, and he's in a costume, maybe Elizabethan, but I think a tad later frankly. He gets rolling, and while he's got it down quite well, he's declaiming in one of those "Shakespearean" voices like there's no tomorrow. Piffle. This really won't do. I'm gonna have to persuade him otherwise, and soon. He moves forward in the scene, and while he's up here near the "target" a couple of girls walk across the space at an angle and go over to a place toward the back and sit down, as if they were at a picnic. They're talking casually as if they don't even notice anything going on. They're wearing long dresses and have long hair. (I'm not actually sure if they're part of the scene or not - I think so.) About now I'm getting more comfortable with this director business, and I'm thinking it's time I put in my two-cents' worth. I do have ideas about how I want this thing to go, and I'm gonna take over now. <br />       Later (I think it's the same sequence) I'm going home, walking down a path - brick - through a pedestrian mall between some stores and offices. There are other people out strolling and visiting, very nice atmosphere. It's early evening, just beginning to get dark. I've got my purse under my arm, and something else with me (in a bag?). I stop for a minute to look at something, then go on my way. A short way further on, toward the street, having rounded a corner or two, I realize I've put my package down when I stopped, and left it. I'll have to go back for it. I hope it's still there. I go back, and there it is. I put my purse down to adjust how I'm holding the package, and go on again. I get almost to the street before I realize that now I've left my purse sitting right on the path. Anybody would see it - damn, I'm sure it won't be there now. Oh hell! I go back. As I round the corner near where I left it, I notice a sort of shelf on my right - the sort of thing you see in a restaurant or someplace "decorated", shoulder height, it might have plants on it. At the moment there are other things, personal things, on it, like a purse or two, and one of them resembles mine a bit. I pick it up and look at it, anxious, and of course realize my purse doesn't have a strap, and this one's rounded. I put it back down, thinking surely it belongs to somebody who's around and will think I'm stealing her purse. I turn around again and go a few more steps toward where I left my purse, and it's not on the ground, but I see on my left a table or stand with a woman behind it (large? black?) and by George it's a lost and found, and there's my purse on it! Hooray! I'm so grateful. I tell her it's mine - she listens to me explain and lets me have it back, and I go on back up the path, find the street at last and turn left, on my way home at last. | 2JKA, 1MPA, 2FSA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 301 | 1985-1997 | 11/24/90 | F | A | In a hotel room with Lori and a woman she's recently met - Lori is wanting to work with her on something, but she's rather suspicious that she may not be what she seems. The woman is (or seems) larger and more powerful than us, and while she seems nice enough, there's a definite detachment there. I've just come to tell Lori I think this woman is dealing drugs and is going to get her involved with it. [I don't remember now how I found this out.] I arrive, we all chat for a bit, and I'm impatient because I'm sure she's going to find me out soon [someone else is coming? or a phone call?] and she may be hostile if she finds out. Shortly she has an errand outside, like taking out the trash or something, and I seize the opportunity. I tell Lori what I know, and while there is still some doubt in the matter it seems most prudent to get out now. We have to grab Lori's things fast (she's been staying here for a while - I don't know if it was meant to be permanent) and duck out the front door to the elevator. It's slow, and we get anxious, but it comes and we hustle into it, still clutching all this stuff with sleeves and things sticking out. Now we're inside we can pack it up a bit better. This elevator is actually a little room - there are tables and chairs and lamps, and a window to the outside (it's night, and you can see a bit of the city - we must be on the 10th floor or so), and there are other people in here - it's a bit like a waiting room. I wave Lori to a seat and I take another. | 1FKA, 1FSA, 1ISA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 302 | 1985-1997 | 11/27/90 | F | A | Michelle and I are going into a small theater to see Tony Randall. We sit in the balcony and enjoy the first half of the show. Then at intermission I decide I need to change clothes. [I'm not sure if this is because I've spilled something on myself, or because I'm tired of wearing these clothes and want to wear something more casual and comfortable.] We just live across the street (apparently M & I are sisters) in a big house - we seem to have rather a lot of money - the house is tropical or Southwestern in style, red tiled roof, stucco walls, and the grounds are well landscaped - lots of yucca and patio-things, very nice indeed. Michelle goes to her room and does whatever, while I look for something else to wear. I know I'm pressed for time, but it takes me a while to get done. Michelle hears the intermission signal from across the street go, and says it's time - we have to go, but I'm not ready yet. I hurry, and she dashes off. I get finished, and go outside, where I stop (just for a second) to do something - I'm at a low brick wall, curved, around a sort of patio with lawn furniture on it (the wood kind with cushions) - and I see a man coming. I don't know who he is, and I wonder if I should stay around, maybe he's a burglar and if I leave he'll break in. I move off, thinking I'll avoid him, then I recognize him - he's our housekeeper or groundskeeper, he works here (he's an older guy with gray hair, nice-looking, rather dignified, butlerish). It occurs to me that maybe if I didn't recognize him, he doesn't recognize me and he'll think I'm a trespasser. Hmm. Well, I've got to get on, so I start to run - I'm sure the show won't start on time anyway, and I can see from here that there are still people going in (though that doesn't prove they're seeing that show). Before I get to the street, though, I remember something I've forgotten, I need to get my purse, I left it (in my room? on the patio wall?). Oh, hell - how long will it take to get it? Can I push my luck any farther? I hesitate for a minute, then give in and run back for it. | 1FKA, 1MKA, 1MSA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 303 | 1985-1997 | 12/8/90 | F | A | I'm with a group of people I work with at a large stadium/auditorium, shortly before some show or event is about to start. The others are talking about another of us who isn't here, something has happened to him - something pretty serious, either he's dead or is having some big trouble - and I don't know what it is. I was gone when this came up, and I'm feeling quite left out and frustrated, because they're assuming everybody knows and not explaining what's happened. Our boss comes along, and he asks me to go off with him, and I tell him what's going on. He seems to have a bit of trouble dealing with this sort of personal thing from his staff, he's very uncomfortable - he does try to explain a little bit, but the whole thing is awkward for both of us. We go along to the inside of the auditorium. Everybody is getting organized, locating their seats, getting their groups together (this is some sort of corporate thing - all these groups are people who work together). We go to one of the tiers and stop where he greets a man that he knows, and they talk. Apparently my boss means to sit here with the other group, but nobody's taking any notice of me - I can't tell if I'm meant to sit here as well, or should I go to be with our own group? I look around for them, and think this place is so big they must be out of eyesight, but then suddenly I discover they're sitting right behind us, a tier up. Hoping to remind him, I tell my boss, "Look! There's our group right behind us!" and he turns - there's also a pillar behind so he has to lean out a bit - and there they are sitting just up there. Good. That's reassuring, at least, I can go right up there. Later: I'm at a hotel that's in an area where there's a lot of other hotels and businesses, maybe it's not far from an airport. I've been here before, at a hotel not far up the road, where some other episode happened like a murder mystery or something. This time I've had car trouble - the water hose [same thing that actually happened yesterday], and this psychiatrist has come to help out. I was at his office with a friend and he drove me back here while she stayed there. We drive back to his office and I park the car in front while he goes in to get my friend and his secretary. It's after 5, and they're getting ready to go out, they're all dressed up. However, as my friend and I go to get into the car, I notice another puddle under the car and more steam coming from under the hood. Oh dear, not again. I say to everybody, "We have another problem", and we're all disappointed. The psychiatrist is frustrated - they really wanted to get on but it looks like sticking around to help me out again. | 2JKA, 1MSA, 1MKA, 2JOA, 1MKA | SD D, AN D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 304 | 1985-1997 | 12/11/90 | F | A | I'm at work, and we're having the staff Christmas party today - hardly anybody's working and the whole library is decorated (looks rather like a department store - high ceilings, serious glitter, great big displays), and everybody's dressed up. The lights are dim, the whole place is a giant cocktail party. Bonnie and I share a desk, and she's actually working - a couple of guys are here to be interviewed (not for jobs, I think - it's something else we do). I've rented a movie for some of us to watch, we wanted to see a Christmas movie, and boy this was the only one left, practically - I get it all set up, and this one girl says, "Boy I hope you didn't get _____, I have seen that a hundred times and I sure don't want to see it again." Woops. Well, I think I'll just look around for something else to do for a few minutes here... I go back to the desk but these guys are just now ready to be interviewed and I have to get up again. I go a wall or 2 away, and sit down, and Brad Brown shows up for a visit. He does this just about every year, I think, and I'm really glad to see him. I sit and watch and listen for a while, while he visits with various ones of us. Shortly I'm on the 5th floor where the staff association party is in the staff room, and as I come off the front elevators I see all these folks, they're all doing the real cocktail party thing with drinks and long glittery dresses, and tuxes. When I turn to go around the microform tables I hear loud music from behind me, and turn to see this sort of procession coming in from the elevators. They're midgets, couples arm in arm, stepping out in time to some pop music. Then I notice the camera equipment, and realize they're making a music video. After the midgets, a girl singer has come out and is wailing away with a mike while everybody's gettin' down. I decide to sit on the floor and watch a bit - I actually lie down, propping myself up on my elbows. Once I'm settled I find there's a group of people sitting in a ring right in front of me - and right after that I grasp they're all more or less at eye level with me. And immediately after that I realize it's because they're all midgets! That's funny. After watching a bit longer I go on into the staff room, and there's another singer in there - actually rather a big-name entertainer, ain't we uptown? Quite crowded in here. Later I'm at home with Ruben (we live together) and we're wanting to go to the Christmas party but we have a plumbing emergency. We got hold of a plumber, and she came and she's finished now - thank Heaven - but it's a quarter to nine and probably too late to think of going now. We settle up with her (she's rather tall, blonde, and good-looking, good figure - wearing khaki coveralls) and thank her, and ask for one of her cards - we only had her phone number, not an address, and don't know how far she had to come. Would be nice if she was local in case we need her again. She's very nice. I allow as how I need some stamps, so if we're not going to the party how about we go out and get some at the post office? We do that. Outside the building is a stamp dispenser that's a sit-down console where you put in your money and punch buttons. Rolly and I are talking away while I feed a dollar bill into the machine. It starts to work, and then the change starts to come out - but a whole lot of change comes out! I don't even realize it at first because I'm distracted talking to Rolly, then I see this shitload of change. Not small stuff, either, lots of quarters. Must be $30-$50 in here. I poke at it a bit, wondering how I'm going to pick it all up, and thinking maybe I should count it out by type, but a car pulls up and a couple of other people arrive - they're here for stamps too, and they'll be wanting to use the machine. O dear. How do I pick all this up without making a lot of noise and letting them see? They'll probably want to share - or maybe they'll expect me to turn it in - maybe I should - really I should, of course - but geez, you know, I really don't have to, no one would ever know. There's a piece of paper here, and while I'm dawdling (hoping they'll get impatient and go away) (knowing there's no good reason to expect them to) I draw it casually over the pile, and then I notice the machine's belched out a whole bunch of stamps too. O boy. Well, well. Now what? About this time (while I'm still making conversation, but now I'm inserting a lot of "uh..."s and "er..."s) I notice something else odd. It takes me a minute to get it, but then I realize that there's light now, dawn. How in the world can it be morning when just a little while ago it was a quarter to nine at night? Have we been here all bleeding night? | 1FKA, 2MSA, 1FSA, 2JSA, 1FSA, 1FSA | HA D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 305 | 1985-1997 | 11/1/90 | F | A | I'm in training with a group of other people, about 6 or so, more men than women - they seem to be mostly younger than I am. All of us are in excellent shape - we're learning special skills from an older man, he's a sort of guru. I think we're all training to be superheroes. I have a mutual attraction going with a couple of the guys, both very tentative and innocent. One was already happening, and just tonight in class this other one started making overtures, and I'm quite taken with him now, too. He's really good-looking: tall, muscular, long hair, sweet. (None of the guys are musclebound apes.) Class is just over, and we're getting ready to go home. We train in a private school, I think all boys. I get the impression they're not crazy about us being here, maybe they just want to get in and use the gym. I've turned to a table to pick up some of my things, and one of the girls asks if I'd like to ride with her and some of the others. I say no, because I'd gone earlier to get my car so I'd have it here, but I'm actually sorry I did that now because I'd really like to go with them. | 2JSA, 1MSA, 1FSA, 2MSA, 1FSA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 306 | 1985-1997 | 1/4/91 | F | A | I'm in a house. I may live here but maybe it's a long visit, I'm not sure. The people who live here are friends, not my very best ones, I don't know them really well, but we're getting along fine. I have the front room for my bedroom. Right now the others have gone into another room that opens into mine and shut the door. (This includes several people, I think it's a couple of married couples and another friend or 2 - I'm thinking only one of the couples lives here and the others are just pals. We do mix, me and them, but not constantly, so they're doing their own thing at the moment while I do mine.) This room wasn't meant for a bedroom, probably a dining room, so it's not completely isolated. Lori and Renee come to visit, and while I'm not looking they set up a "Christmas tree" for me - not a real tree, but made out of some odd things and it's just wonderful, I'm thrilled. It's sitting on a counter/shelf affair, and I also find they've tucked away a taco salad for me as a present. How neat. It's enormous, and good-looking. I start to dig into it, and they leave. I eat some of the stuff off the top, there's several layers, and eventually uncover some lettuce I hadn't known was there, that's great! I was thinking it was going to take quite a while to eat. About this time the others come out of the room and sit around in my room. I think I'll spend a few minutes on the porch. There's a door from my room, and I go through, thinking I'll play with Doggie a bit, she's outside. Just as I get out, she's running across the street chasing something, maybe a cat. It's a very busy street, she shouldn't be out loose, and I call for her to come back, but I'm anxious that she be very careful. She is; she looks for the traffic and waits till it's clear, then runs across and bounds up to the porch and I give her a rub. She's so nice. Suddenly I hear a noise down on the ground - I hadn't identified it as barks or growls, but when I look I see a group of 3 or 4 dogs getting mixed up with each other and maybe about to start a real fight. I'm disturbed at this, and want them to go away. I make what I mean to be a loud noise and clap my hands, they do stop what they're doing. All but one of them move off, but one - presumably the instigator - looks around and in a flash jumps up on the porch. He's bigger than Doggie, and black, mean-looking. He doesn't attack but skulks around acting threatening. I know I don't want to antagonize him and probably shouldn't make any sudden moves, but I'm scared. I stay still, and call out to the people inside. It takes a couple of tries because at first I wasn't loud enough, trying to be careful. The woman who lives here comes out, seeing the situation, and she's not afraid. She says to me I'd better get inside, so I step back and reach for the screen door - there's another door that I'm closer to - and let myself in carefully. | 2JSA, 2JSA, 1FKA, 1ANI | HA D, AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 307 | 1985-1997 | 2/16/91 | F | A | I need a curtain fixed or changed or put up. Bruce Mulkey is here helping me with it, and he asks me for a screwdriver; he's in the bedroom. I start for the kitchen, and stop to turn and ask, "What kind?" He says Phillips. I go to the bag in the kitchen pantry where I keep my tools and pull out screwdrivers. The first 2 are straight - I wonder briefly if a Phillips is in here, but the next thing I get is one. I stop for a second on the way back and when I get back Bruce isn't there anymore, but My ex is. He's in the bathroom doing something with the curtains there. Now, Bruce had been going to borrow or substitute something from one of the curtains in here for the one he was working on in the bedroom, but what My ex seems to be doing is putting up the new curtain in here and taking down the old one. There was a regular-length one over the toilet, under the shelves [for no reason at all - it's just a wall there], and he's taken that down and put a little short one up, just over the toilet - it's about 6" long. It looks silly. I realize I forgot the screwdriver, don't know where I've left it, and go back to look for it, wondering what on earth's going on about the curtains and what to say. I find it where I laid it down on the way through the living room, and I'm surprised - I hadn't realized I'd only brought the blade. (Apparently it's one that can be fitted into a handle, part of a set, though it's quite large for that.) I rectify that and come back to the bathroom. My ex's nearly finished and I don't know what to say to him. I certainly didn't want what he's done, but he'll get mad if I say so when he's doing me a favor. I wish he wasn't here at all - Bruce knew what I wanted and would have done it right - you can't depend on My ex, and he always thinks he's right, doesn't want to be criticized. | 1MKA, 1MKA | CO D, CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 308 | 1985-1997 | 2/17/91 | F | A | I'm in a theater where a rock band is about to play. One of the guys in the band is my boyfriend - we haven't been together very long but I'm quite fond of him and it's not a hot & heavy affair. We're still quite shy of each other. I'm sitting in about the 3rd row, center - he got the tickets for me and some friends - and the lights are on while we're still waiting for the place to fill up. Which it is, mostly filling up with teenage girls. I don't feel out of place, but a bit conspicuous. The band is still setting up onstage (the curtain seems to be open) and I get up to go talk to my boyfriend. He's assembling something on the near side to the stage steps on the right, and I squat where he is and talk for a minute, just asking casual questions about what's going on. He doesn't mind. I really like him, and I'm pleased that he'd want me here. He's blond, quite young-looking, real nice guy. I cross the stage for some reason (with him?) and I'm there for a minute or so more, while they're finishing up, and now the stage is set and it's almost time to start. They tell me I need to get back to my seat. I turn, looking for the best way to do that, and then decide to go back the way I came. I feel very conspicuous walking across the whole set now that it's complete, now it seems I don't belong here. (I'm not sure if the curtain is raised or not - it feels as if the audience can see me.) The place is about full now, and the general audience buzz is still loud. I look for my seat, can't find it at first, then I realize somebody's sitting in it. I go up to her and say, "That's my seat" - there's no time to be polite or solicitous, the show's about to start. She hesitates for a minute, but I get a bit more forceful, "Come on, that's my seat - go away", and she does. Looks a bit surly but I don't care. I sit down, full of anticipation and excitement. | 1MKA, 2FKA, 2FSA, 1FSA | HA D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 309 | 1985-1997 | 2/18/91 | F | A | I'm outdoors, in an area with a lot of trees and open space, away from downtown, though you can see it over the tops of the trees. [Something is happening that involves mention of a hospital.] I'm going to walk up to the street [and do something, maybe I'm going for a car or a cab or an airplane]. As I walk over a slight rise, I can see more of downtown and the power lines that crisscross the air. On one of them are two figures, much larger than life but somewhat smaller than parade balloons - one's Batman (black suit and cape, like the movie), and the other one's female, and they're lying on the wire, embracing as if they're making love, but with all their clothes on. She's got long dark hair and dark clothing. I don't know precisely who she is, but I accept this as quite normal. It's apparently some sort of promotional stunt for the next Batman movie. What it appears to be is two real people inside some sort of giant costumes, and they operate inside them as if it was themselves. As I walk, watching from time to time, they get more vigorous. Out of the corner of my eye it looks quite real. Finally their humping gets real exaggerated, and they raise up in the air high enough to turn over backwards and fall off. As you might expect, Batman "flies" down, doesn't drop like a stone, and goes out of sight behind something. I'm still walking on, and now I see the two of them standing on a rise, their arms out, facing more or less my direction, their mouths open. They're singing, but I'm too far away to hear. More of the promotion. Up in the sky, there are little private planes from time to time - actually quite a lot of traffic - and now some of them are towing banners that say, "Batman". I pass by them and come to Lloyd's house. Lloyd lives right on a main street in a sort of industrial district; next to maybe an auto salvage yard, across from an empty lot, like that. It's part of a group of houses, though, an interconnected project a bit like condos, maybe, and the road by them goes from the street back, past his house, into the complex. I go through his house and speak briefly to him and a woman friend who's with him. [Whatever was going on where I started out, they are part of, or at least they know all about it.] They ask if there's anything for them to do, and I say no, I'm just going on out to get [the car?]. About now, I notice what I'm wearing. It's a sort of baby-doll top and underpants, seems to be blue or black, something dark, but quite short, nearly doesn't reach my thighs, and suddenly I'm very self-conscious. I could do something about it, I guess, ask Lloyd or the other woman if I could change, or something, but I don't want to appear unsure of myself, or scared. So I go on out, wondering if they're thinking I shouldn't be going outside dressed like this. I step onto the sidewalk, take a few steps, stop and think about it some more, get concerned whether Lloyd and the woman can see me dithering through the window, take a few more steps past the window, stop again. Agonize a bit more, then give up and decide to go back. I walk down the drive next to the house, not looking at it so as they won't see me retreating, and pass the house till I come to the end of the building, where there's a carport and then another bit of matching building. At the back of this I turn in between the houses and meet a boy, maybe 10 or 11. He's new here, just hanging out, and I talk to him for a minute. [I find myself explaining to him how these houses are arranged, that this back part is a laundry (very nice, too, completely carpeted and even lounge furniture this end) that's shared by Lloyd and the guy behind him.] | 5FPA, 1MSA, 2ISA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 310 | 1985-1997 | 3/2/91 | F | A | I'm in a sort of back alley or somewhere dark and hidden, meeting up with some creatures that I've come here to work with - they are at war or have been attacked/conquered by some people, humans, and I'm helping them. These creatures are animals, little ones mostly, furry mostly, and nice guys. They have their own way of life and everything, they've done nothing to harm anybody, these humans are just bent on taking over and enslaving the little guys because they're little and they think the little guys aren't as good as them. [I don't know for sure if this is another planet but I sort of think it is.] The ones I'm meeting come, quietly, stealthy, and we talk about what to do. (I'm not alone, I think, there's another person with me - it may be Lori.) We go into the building we're next to - it's a sort of warehouse, and there are rows of storage shelving with things on them. It's dark except for occasional lights on the wall, meant as sort of night-lights or security, I guess - the whole place is dim and has a mysterious, suspense-drama look. The enemy is somewhere in here, they're coming this way, looking for the little people they know are in here. We spread out and get ready. Suddenly they're upon us, and a battle starts. Everybody's running around the stacks, people are yelling, it's chaotic, and bit by bit we retreat. [I don't know what kinds of weapons are being used, and I don't know if anyone's killed - don't think so.] The fighting lasts a while, but eventually everybody's out except me and my companion, we're staying behind to see what we can find out - we're going to pretend we're part of this group. They're pleased with themselves, thinking they've won again, and start setting up tables and equipment for a meal, they're going to celebrate. [Gradually the character of this scene changes. The "military" people become people I work with, the warehouse becomes the library, and the meal they're setting up becomes a catered dinner for the staff.] There's a table right in the middle where some people are already sitting, and I wonder if maybe I should sit there, or are they expecting somebody else they know? I hesitate, and don't want to draw too much attention to myself. This looks like the head table and maybe that's where I should be to hear the most, but I might be conspicuous. Then someone suggests that we can both sit together at this other table, the last one in the corner. Good, fine, we go there, sitting at the far end*. There's a lot of conversation, we're all having a pretty good time, but I'm getting hungry, we've been waiting for them to let us know the food's ready. At some point this table's developed walls around it, it's in a side room. Finally we decide it's been long enough, and venture out to see what's going on. By George, everybody else is eating! We'd better get started. First we come to a sort of appetizer bar where a blondish woman is serving dips and crackers. It's pretty depleted. I take a little plate and get a few crackers, dunking some of them into a white dip. Not very exciting, but a start I guess. (The server also looks bored and unaccommodating.) Nearby I can see a salad bar but I want some more substantial food, so I go on around this station (which is backed up to a wall of sorts - the whole place is sort of an open hall with partitions, and I couldn't see past the appetizers) to where there are tables for the rest of the food. But they're taking it away, most of the tables are cleared already! I'm horrified and furious. I go up and ask what the hell they're doing, we haven't eaten yet. This thing's not supposed to be over for another (20 min? 2 hrs? I'm not sure), either, they can't do this. Obviously there's not all that much left, anyway, but still, I'm hungry and I'm not going to sit still for this - I paid $7.95 for this meal and if I have to go out and get my own I damn well want my money back. The servers tell me the guy in charge has just gone down to the (lounge?), I'll have to talk to him. The others (from my table) are not as worked up about this as I am, but Lori and I go after him; I'm working up a fine rage. | 2ANI, 2JSA, 1FKA, 2JSA, 2JSA, 1MKA | HA 1MKA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 311 | 1985-1997 | 4/12/90 | F | A | I work in a store/sales showroom with Harry Anderson - it's a big place, I guess it's full of furniture, big things, high ceilings. It's early, just about time for customers, and I need to change clothes just as people are starting to come in. I take off what I've got on and people look at me funny - including Harry, and I'm rather concerned about that. Harry and I are good friends, maybe even lovers or close to it. I really care what he thinks, and he really cares about me. There may be something wrong here. Maybe they're uncomfortable with me being nude, but it's really not so unusual. I'm somewhat self-conscious, but I won't be out here long - I'm gonna go back in the office/private area and get some clean clothes. I get a T-shirt, but it's got something on it so I pull it off and get another one. I need to go back out for something and wonder if I should go now with just the T-shirt on, or put some pants on first. I'm thinking the customers might be uncomfortable if I didn't. Next: I'm at a sort of resort/retreat place, going to attend a conference of women. We've already arrived, checked in. had orientations, all that. Some of us have been out sightseeing, shopping in the town or something, and we're on our way back (I think we've stopped at a cafe for lunch) and we're late, so we rush back on a sort of train or subway. We get out at the front door of a sort of school/campus hall, and go up some steps, through glass doors and down to the room where the meeting is. There's a guy in a suit and a couple of other people to meet and guide people in. We get there and find seats. We're all at tables across the room, a large room with a setup at the front for the meeting leaders. It's not bright in here, the light is rather night-club-like, grayish. There are some lamps in the front and on the sides (small ones). There's some activity going on but it's not something we're all doing, so we're just waiting at the moment. I'm trying to hear what the people up at the front are saying but it's hard to hear [like it was at Friday's last night] and I keep missing bits. At some point, something stirring or exciting is said and a lot of us stand up, enthusiastic, and I see that some are holding out their arms, and their hands are glowing with energy, a light blue color. I don't know what that's about. These women seem to have something I don't; there are a lot of powerful people here and they're about a powerful purpose, but I don't think I'm in this league... As things calm down I'm lounging in my chair, flopping on the table, and this doesn't seem appropriate, my friend next to me says so, and I agree with her. I straighten up, and for some reason stand on the table... After a bit some of us go out again, or there's a break - as we go out we're walking down the side of the building, there's a passage here and the grounds next to it are pretty, dropping off somewhat with yucca plants and whatnot all green. Down at the end there's a walk to the building - a dorm I guess - where we're staying, we're heading down there. Beyond the building the earth is all torn up, mounds of earth where they're going to build something probably. It's been raining and there are big pools all around. Off to the left, coming around the highest mound, is the other path that would curve up to the building, but the near part is all under water. We've stopped to talk - me and a friend plus 2 others. A woman with red hair and khaki pants and a vest is coming around the bend, and she looks at the water, which I'm thinking is too deep. We call out to her, "You'll have to go back - it's too deep," but she decides she can wade in it, so she steps forward - and promptly slips, falling in up to her shoulders. Yuck. | 1MKA, 2JSA, 1MSA, 2FSA, 1MSA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 312 | 1985-1997 | 4/26/91 | F | A | I am going to visit Lloyd. He lives in a house not far north, and it's a nice day, I'm out pedalling on my little cycle/scooter-thing, so why not? I'll just go all the way to Lloyd's house. It's a nice ride but long. This machine I've got is not as efficient as a real bicycle but it's okay until I come to a hill. So it's a challenge. I get across, though, and come to the development where his house is. It's kinda nice, with curvy streets and some nice plants and hedges. Lloyd's house is neat and trim. [Smaller than his real house and close to the sidewalk.] He lets me in - he has to go next door soon for a dinner party, but we visit a while in his back bedroom [the house is also furnished more comfortably, less showroom-new than his real house] - he's working on something back there. (I notice that he looks heavier, more nearly stocky than usual.) After a bit he has to go away, and says I can stick around if I like, even till he comes back and we can visit some more. But I decide to go after poking around a bit. I take my scooter-thing out of my bag (it folds up very small) and start to undo it as I walk to the door, then decide I'd better wait till I'm out on the street. As I get outside, though, I find it's gotten almost dark. Street lights are on. It was late afternoon when I came, I guess it would be getting dark, and that's not going to be fun. Hmm. I'd better not. I'd better pick another route, maybe a flat one if I can - the hills are hard and slow. Actually from here I can't get away from hills, there's no way to go that's completely flat, but I settle on going up Northwest Highway and down Skillman - that'll be okay, at least it's straight, and there's only the one long hill, I can walk up that, not so bad. I step out onto the sidewalk and hear a commotion up the street. I look to my right and see - my word! - there's cows in the street! 3 of 'em - no, one's a bull. And they're huge. Poking around under the street light. Some people are down there as well, and I realize these are escapees from somewhere and the people are trying to get them to go back. Apparently it's not so easy - they're so big they're dangerous, especially the bull, who appears to be temperamental. They look black to me, though it may be the silhouettes I'm seeing from the lights overhead. I have some vague idea of helping, as if I should call out, "Here cow! Here cow!" or something. As if I could then get them by the collar and lead them home. Hmm. Not so realistic. Still, I feel compelled to make some noise like the other people are doing, so I shout out something, and though it wasn't really loud enough to have disturbed them, just at that moment they get agitated - the bull jerks his head, raises up a bit and swings around and it looks like he's going to start running. I figure I'd rather not be out in the open when he does this, so I duck behind a hedge. I wait for a bit while things settle down and then go on in the opposite direction. I'm starting to cross a yard at the end of the street, and suddenly here comes an animal. I can't quite tell what kind of animal it is - it's very large (at least Great-Dane size), furry with sort of coarse, brownish hair, and a strange face - narrow, it ends in a rounded, camel- or rabbit-like muzzle. It's ambling toward me, slowly but surely, and I have no way of knowing that it's dangerous. I figure it's a cat, a really big cat, and if so I'd do better not to run away from it. O boy. Actually there's 2 of them, the other's coming along on the other side of a thin hedge next to me - they're both just casually coming forward, no facial expressions, no indication of what they're about, but they're so strange. As the near one gets closer, I doubt again if it's a cat. That mayn't make it less dangerous, though, and I decide my best course of action is to be invisible, so I step into a space in this hedge and pretend to disappear. Next I meet a couple of little kids - a boy and a girl, brother and sister, 6, 7, 8? They have just been dropped off here and they're meant to be visiting somebody, but don't know which house it is. I'm taken aback by this - it looks very much as if these kids have just been abandoned. Well, I'd better see them taken care of, so we go back to Lloyd's house. As I'm going up to his house, the group next door is just coming out, and there's Lloyd with some other friends of his. (Interesting to see him in that setting.) At this point I notice that he has his beard still/again. That's also making him look different. I introduce the kids to the group and explain the situation. Lloyd actually looks embarrassed, as if he hadn't wanted to get his neighbors involved in something like this. Too bad; some of them get right on it, particularly one couple, and we march right into Lloyd's house and start handling things. The wife and I are in the back bedroom (which now looks different somehow, more furniture) and start making up extra beds for the kids. She goes out again, and I do some more. I've been picking at a pimple on my chin (left side), and it has come to the point where I've pulled the skin off the top and I want to squeeze it. I go into the bathroom - just to the right outside the bedroom - and lean into the mirror, squeezing away. I don't accomplish much. I think of something I want to tell the woman (or ask about), and I call out to her while I'm standing there. She comes in, and walks behind me, saying hello to her husband, and asking what we're both doing in there together. I'm startled, now that I turn to the right and see him in the bathtub - briefly, before I turn my eyes away. I hadn't even noticed him when I came in, and he'd been so quiet I didn't even notice he was there! Eeek! He's a bit self-conscious and she thinks it's funny. | 1MKA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 313 | 1985-1997 | 4/26/91 | F | A | [I'm doing something with a group who may or may not be SCA - we're dressed up, and doing some singular stuff, but I'm not sure it isn't for real.] I've been sent to a house where an SCA revel/council/court is going on. I'm meant to be a hero, here to help them do something. This house is a bit like a brownstone, has steps leading up to a big front door, could've been very grand. I've come alone, and I'm received as an emissary. They seem glad to see me. I've got on masculine clothes, rather Elizabethan I think but hardy. I'm greeted by the leader [I don't know his title - may even be a king] and clapped on the back. We're going in to dinner first, I understand, then we'll confer. I follow them down a hall and outside to a small yard where there is set a long table for a meal. There are already a number of people seated and some serving, and I stop to speak to a few of them, and I'm introduced around. As I come to the other end of the table I start to look where to sit, which I presume should be near my host, but he doesn't seem to be here, so I'm not sure I should sit down yet. Shortly he and the entourage come back in looking for me - we're not eating at this table, there's a room further on we're going to. I get the impression they wouldn't sit with these people - they're like the servants and commoners - and they think it unsuitable that I should have thought we'd be sitting there. | 2JSA, 1MOA, 2JSA, 2JSA | HA 2JSA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 314 | 1985-1997 | 4/28/91 | F | A | I am looking, from a seated position on the floor, around a partition at the legs of a woman. They are beautiful, perfectly formed and flawless. She's standing with her legs apart, and as my eye travels upward, noticing the loveliness as it goes, I see the space right between her legs and even see the little bit of flesh at her genitals that comes down, a small pink protrusion, also flawless, heartbreakingly beautiful. [I'm not noticing hair at all - actually I think she has pubic hair, but it's very fine and light.] I look up further, seeing that her body continues to be lovely, and now I see that she's looking into a mirror - she is actually Julia Roberts (with her hair long again) and she's looking at her breasts. She's just had surgery (I don't know for what, but it was cosmetic) and she's looking carefully at the black stitches, the redness and slight bruising. She touches them very lightly, and the look on her face is concerned, apprehensive, a little fearful, not sure she should be worried - she's been reassured that everything's going to be fine. It's very sweet, really. I feel sympathetic, warm towards her. As I'm looking at her, I slide out a bit around the edge of the mirror so I can see upward at her face better. There's a window not far behind her, curtained with sheers, so there's soft, diffused light (nearly my old green light), and there's a green plant nearby, maybe some flowers. I'm sure the mirror (it's a full-length oval, standing mirror) is in an ornate gold frame. | 1FSA, 1FPA | AP 1FKA, SD D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 315 | 1985-1997 | 5/4/91 | F | A | I'm at work in some kind of office - I don't know what we do, but it might have to do with theater. There's a number of people here, at various kinds of desks and tables in an open room with windows. [There's been more before this, and] I've just had some kind of accident away from here, where something glass exploded in my face. It was a kind of safety glass, that didn't all fly everywhere or I would've been all cut up, but very fine pieces or grains did fly out with great force, right in my face. I was a bit stunned for a minute, then decided I'd better take a look at the damage, so I went to (the restroom?) mirror. There aren't any cuts, but my face looks strange, white, brittle, as if there was a thin top layer on it, like a peel-away mask after it dries, but loose. That's scary. I don't know if there are pieces of glass embedded in my face, I don't know what exactly the damage is or what I should do. I think I shouldn't touch it, that might do more harm than good, I'd better call a doctor. I go back to my desk, which faces the windows and most of the people here can't see my face. I talk to 1 or 2 of them, but they don't see anything, or at least don't say anything about how I look. I wonder privately if that means my face doesn't look that unusual to them, but I can still feel it and I'm still worried. (It feels sensitive, brittle, uncomfortable - something's going on for sure.) I start to look up a doctor; then I realize I've got a card in my purse (or somewhere here) that someone gave me for a doctor she recommended. I find it and pull it out, a standard business card. I think about rinsing my face - would that be a good idea, if there's glass in it, shouldn't I be getting it out? But how would I do that, maybe it would aggravate the injury to have water running over it. As an experiment, I reach up and lightly touch a spot on my right cheek, to see how it feels - I brush very gently over the skin a bit, and can't tell anything much, just that it's sensitive and sort of dry, flat-feeling. Then I pick up my hand mirror and look. It doesn't start to bleed, on top anyway, but underneath the skin, capillaries start to open up, bleeding internally. I can see the red blood running in a vein, this way, then that way. As it comes to the end of a vein's route, another route starts right next to it. Oh, dear. Eeek. I get up to find somebody to help, I want to see somebody in particular. I run into Bettye Short and a man, behind a partition which serves as a sort of hallway, where the restrooms are. They're talking, and I don't want to interrupt them, so I wait a few seconds for an opportunity, then ask what they make of my face. [I am not remembering their reply if any - it seems as if they advised me to call a doctor right away. Next, I am wondering how it would be if I immersed my face in water, ever so carefully and slowly, so as not to put any pressure on it; maybe that would give the opportunity for the particles to "float" out. This last, however, may have been after I woke up and was trying to get back to sleep.] | 2JSA, 1IOA, 1ISA | AP D, AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 316 | 1985-1997 | 5/8/91 | F | A | I'm just pulling up to a day-care center that's in a large house, in a nice neighborhood, probably Central area. It's got a big double (or triple) driveway and a high brick wall - not too high, maybe 6 feet, but enough I can't see what's going on beyond it. Several vehicles are parked here, and I pull up behind a car on the left, where I can see through the gate. There's a large garage or other outbuilding straight ahead. I see some men (presumed) with hoods on, and guns - 4 of them, I think, and one of them is towing a kid with him, maybe 8, 9, 7? Shorts, brown shoes, striped T-shirt, dark hair. Clearly this is a kidnapping, and I'm about to be right in the middle of it. Looking around as casual as I can be, I back out of the driveway, trying to be ever so quiet. [Notwithstanding that a car always makes the same amount of noise.] They don't notice me. They're very occupied, and I'm being careful not to draw attention to myself. I figure I'd better go call the police. Once on the street again, I see there are a couple of other people - they look like "punks", dressed very colorful, punk-rock cliche, orange Mohawk on one, etc. They're standing further down the street, as if they were lookouts, and in fact they accost another car that's driven down the street and stopped at the Stop sign. They threaten, then start beating on the car with these heavy sticks they're carrying. (They don't have guns.) I pause, wondering what to do next. The guys with the guns will be out soon, I've got to get away. I wonder why the person in the car doesn't just drive off. [I also have the impression that the driver is on the right-hand side of the car.] That's what I figure I'd do. The masked guys come out on the street now, and I poke around in the car as if I've lost something; anything to keep them from thinking I've seen them. So I drive on down the street and avoid the punks, and now I've got to call the cops. I think, maybe I should just drive to a police station - where is one? The only one I can think of is the substation on Northwest Highway - that's too far. Just find a phone. For some reason I'd rather phone from somebody's house, and rather than stop at a pay phone maybe I should go to Dan & Lynn's house - is it closer than mine? No, not really, better go home. (These thoughts are being thunk near the corner of Central & Mockingbird, where the Eckerd and La Madeleine are.) So I get home. I live in a really nice house on a really nice street, west of Central, in the Townships. Green street, lots of tall green trees, thick grass, big bushes. It's not bright sunlight here like it was before, it's overcast, been raining, trees are dripping. (My house is gray brick or stone, with a dark green, low roof - lots of weathering but in excellent condition.) I pull into the driveway and notice something's wrong. My word, there's a whole new house on my lawn! It's smaller than my house, but no little cabin. It faces my house, it's set back next to the sidewalk and a tall bush/tree-thing is near its front door. It looks like stone; not a match for my house (except in color), but a nice fit in terms of style. It looks as if someone meant it to look like a manor house in the woods, out of the Middle Ages. But how could it have been built so fast? It wasn't here yesterday, I've got no idea how it got here. This is ridiculous. I get out of the car, figuring I'll take a look at it, but I hesitate. Those masked kidnappers may have followed me, you know - this whole thing is very suspicious, it could be a trap. I go up to the door very carefully - the door is open, and I'll take a peek inside. There's a mailbox next to the door, I can see now, and there's a white corner of something showing in it. Will this explain something? I can see through the door that there's a pool in the whole visible end of the front room - a sort of landscape affair, I guess you can bathe or relax in it, but I think really it's meant to suggest a sylvan glade with a nice pool, for the look and sound of it. Now that I'm close enough to see, it's not stone at all, or any such thing - it's inflated! This whole house is some sort of portable, temporary structure. How bizarre. But it looks perfect. The "stone"-look isn't like big stones, but more like shale; layered rock, and I feel it, it feels molded. Geez this thing must have been expensive. I take the envelope out of the mailbox - there's a card in it, and it's from Dan, Lynn, Peggy, James, Lloyd, Vince, and several of my friends. This is a present from them! [For my birthday? Not specified.] They all wanted to get together and get me something nice, they knew I'd love this. (Boy they're right!) I'm not going in, though. Not till I talk to the police and check things out - the bad guys could be lurking in there. So I go on in my front door, and wait while Rouse and Tree (who were with me in the car) take their own sweet time getting in the house. Rouse comes in once, then goes back out before I can get Tree to come in. Alleycat (who didn't go with us) waits by the door with me. He's not sure he wants to go out. | 2MSA, 1MSC, 2MSA, 1ISA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 317 | 1985-1997 | 5/19/91 | F | A | I'm in some kind of a team race with various "legs" and things you have to do. We're behind. It's close to the end, and we've finished a leg. There's a break while we go see what we're supposed to do at the finish, which is inside something, as if you go down a wide-open hallway, make a turn, and then you're in a big room/auditorium-like, and there's a bit of an audience. It's lit only in places, as if for a show, open and blank between the audience "bleachers", up to a wall. We're supposed to run up to the wall to finish. Back at the last stop, we get back in gear, I think we're running but I'm not sure, and one of us is missing or falters or fucks around or something, so there's no real chance of us winning. We get to the line in the middle of the room, where [I think] we all stop and just one of us runs to the end. But the person who's supposed to do that has bugged out. We (the rest of us) stand around in confusion for a minute while the other team runs on and wins, but I'm real anxious that we should finish and I fervently call out stuff like "But where is he? We've got to finish! Come on!" And get all worked up. I make a sort of false start to run myself, and the others just stand there, having thrown in the towel, it's all over anyway, there's no point, and so on. We stand there looking glum. I'm terribly embarrassed. I know we've lost, but I feel awkward, unfinished, terribly self-conscious. We should finish the race, but now we'd only be drawing a bunch of pity if we did. <br />       There's this flamboyant woman (middleaged, lots of dark curly hair, jewellery, rather Gypsy-like but with bread) who's part of the staff who put this on, and she comes forward (she's not the emcee, but does things to draw attention to herself anyway) and offers, flamboyantly of course, to run the last bit for us. But it's all over now, it would just be one more awkward thing, we'd just like to become invisible, even the audience is ill at ease. So she comes off it, and even says, No, I guess that sounds a little patronizing, doesn't it? And she quickly trots off, mumbling something about going to the bathroom. | 2JSA, 1MSA, 1FSA | AP D, SD D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 318 | 1985-1997 | 5/20/91 | F | A | I'm somewhere with my brother and another guy, friend of his, in (perhaps) an office building, we're talking, occasionally I look out the windows and see the place next door. It has some signs on it, it might be a store or something, well known to us. [This is an old-fashioned place, these buildings are maybe from the 30's, 40's, 50's, 2-3 stories, brick.] Just now I seem to think my view of the building next door is moving, sliding sideways. That can't be right. I look away again for a bit, then back, and it still looks different. I look away again and take part in the conversation, but a minute or so later when we look again, the building's gone. We jump up and run to the window, and see that it's being hauled off by a truck. [It's just been hitched up to a cab like a giant trailer, and pulled away as if from a parking space.] I'm amazed, but my brother is very disturbed. He's sure it's being stolen - he runs out, going after it, I guess [or to call the cops], shouting behind him for us not to drive his car. His vintage car is here [something big and bulbous from the 40's, early 50's, he's restored it, it's quite a prize], and he's very touchy about other people handling it, even me and his best friend here. Well, this best friend of his (reminds me of the kid from the Pepsi commercials) is the let's-do-it, impetuous type, and he says, let's go after it in the car. I'm dubious, but likewise I think we should do something, and while I have lots of misgivings about this guy's driving, well, better him than me if anything happens. We take off. | 1MKA, 1MKA, 2MOA | CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 319 | 1985-1997 | 5/21/91 | F | A | I'm in London, stopping over on my way somewhere further east (in Europe), and I've come to visit some friends at this school. It's a trade school or something like that, adult students, I may have gone here myself at one time, I'm quite familiar with it. I get out of the cab from the airport - it costs 20 pounds and change - at the front steps. This school is in a building in town, it's not off by itself anywhere; there are high steps up to it [the building reminds me a bit of A like a resturaunt]. It's quite overcast outside. I go on up and inside. Later, I'm coming out again as school's finishing up for the day. I'm talking to a young man, we'd been having a conversation inside and while I'm waiting for my friends I'm walking out with him. At the corner we get separated; there's quite a crowd of people, and I end up having to wait for the traffic light. I think he'll be waiting at the bus stop across the street, I'll catch up with him. But when I get there he's disappeared altogether. Hmm. Well, that's funny - I'm a little disappointed, he's a nice guy and I was enjoying talking to him. I suppose I'll go back across and wait for my friends. Rather than go back the way I came I cross to the other corner. It's pretty close here, narrow streets, but crowded with people and cars. There's a traffic cop [looks like your typical New York-style cop with a uniform jacket and white gloves] with a whistle and a strap across his chest, directing traffic. There's a little shop on this corner, and the street is blocked off with some road-works going this direction. I cross over again past the cop - since there's no cars coming this way, we don't need to wait for him to let us go. Now I'm talking to a woman on the opposite side of the street about a self-help book (either I have it with me and she sees it, or (this is a little shop) I've picked it up and am thumbing through it, and she remarks on it. She says it's really good, and recommends it highly. I say, thanks, that's good to know (and something about the library - can't remember exactly but may have been, "I can't get everything I want at the library all the time")... | 2JKA, 1MSA, 1MOA, 1FSA | HA D, SD D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 320 | 1985-1997 | 6/8/91 | F | A | We've caught a woman agent and are transporting her back to (Russia? not named but I have a picture of this place being eastern Europe and we're taking her north). (I don't know what my role in this is, but) Sharon Gless seems to be in charge, and she marches this woman around to a truck - it's dark and there are street lights on, or parking-lot lights maybe. Sharon's wearing a trench coat, and has a gun. This truck is a special prisoner truck. One side is clear plastic, or vinyl, flexible, and the back end, too - it makes a kind of see-through cage to transport prisoners in so that people can see they're okay, and who they really are. There are no openings except for the "door" slit, which is underneath a metal frame-thing on the left side. When you do some latches and things it folds down and you can slide through the slit and get inside. We're getting it all set up for the woman to go in. Everybody's calm and purposeful, somewhat grim, businesslike. Not much is being said. Sharon goes in first to check things out, then the woman goes in. (Now there's a blank space, and the next thing I see is) Sharon Gless is sitting in the chair, alone, the truck is moving, travelling through the dark streets; apparently the woman has overcome and outwitted her and escaped, leaving Sharon in her place to be delivered right into the middle of enemy territory. She looks like this is all just dawning on her, very concerned. Credits start to roll over what I see, as though for a movie. Before: "We" (unidentified others) have stopped somewhere on a journey, driving, through some open country in a foreign land. There's a break in what had been mostly trees and hills, to a bit of plain, sandy earth with scattered little trees, very short. Someone tells me why they grow like that, it's very strange, there are these rabbits that live here, and they stay under these trees - I'm not sure if they eat off of them or just take shelter there, but the sun is too hot for them and they scamper from tree to tree. The seeds get on them and then drop off elsewhere so they don't ever grow close together. I find this fascinating, and the plants are quite nice, there are several kinds of little flowers. I take a walk a little way into this, looking at the plants, and I see (and hear) there are also little birds sitting in the scrubby trees. That's cute. I look closely into one and see what I think is a chick, a fluffy little yellow bird. It's just sitting there, I guess it can't fly, and as I look, it moves a few inches to the end of the branch and falls down. It's only a little way to the ground, maybe it's not hurt - I wonder if I should pick it up but decide I'd better let it do whatever it can normally - let nature take its course. | 1FOA, 1FKA, 2IOA, 2ISA, 2ANI | AP 1FKA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 321 | 1985-1997 | 6/11/91 | F | A | Robert Urich is also a gourmet chef, and he's gotten into a bet with a famous-chef friend of his that he can do something just as fast his way as his friend can. They set up a private contest, and Robert wins. All quite friendly, but the friend puts on a little miff. Robert has long hair at the moment, which he is lately wearing in a ponytail. I have been sent to go get something - his trophy? - and go to this building with an outdoor patio or something, next to a bit of parking lot, a level up, maybe head-height, and as I skirt this there's a fluffy white cat and I'm hearing (or singing) "Grizabella". I have the idea this cat is called Grizabella; I think, it's kind of a matter of taste, huh, somebody thought she was a glamour cat. But she is pretty. Inside, I'm looking for something in Lorren's apartment when she comes in - I'm surprised, I thought she was gone and I find myself thinking she thinks I shouldn't be here. Then I go to collect the (trophy?) and Robert Urich comes bustling in to get it himself, and I'm confused, but he's never one to do things the simple way anyhow - he's always like this. Later I'm going somewhere in a neighborhood and I see 2 guys I know, one of whom says something that the other should know, but as I pass him and call out, he doesn't hear me or doesn't respond. Typical of him. Later, I'm talking to someone (who's probably a therapist) - Jill and her roommate have just been here, and their problem is Jill's gotten a job managing a rock band and her being up all hours is bothering her roommate. | 1MKA, 1MKA, 1ANI, 1FKA, 1FKA | CO D, CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 322 | 1985-1997 | 6/13/91 | F | A | I'm in an apartment, fancy place in a high-rise, occupied by an Hispanic gangster and his wife - a tall, gorgeous airhead with big hair and flashy clothes. The place is decorated in mobster chic, but rich. He's not home, and I'm not supposed to be here - she's not supposed to have visitors. She's a nice person, though, and she wants me to be here, I'm telling her something or teaching her something, we're just getting to know each other. Her husband shows up, however, and I have to hide. Eventually I can sneak out. She gets him distracted, and I'm pretty good at this, so I get on back to where I live. Where I live is a sort of group place, an organization. The building has offices and meeting rooms, a lounge, a kitchen, etc. Open, light oak everywhere, glass doors, big windows. I say hi to various people on the way in, and go into a little office-room near the front. While there, I see this black guy (large, tough, in a suit) coming in - total stranger, looking around like he's hunting somebody, and I'm worried. Maybe the gangster's found me out and had me followed here, and I'm in trouble. I lay low till he passes out of sight and go into the lounge where some of my friends are and warn them. While we're standing there talking, suddenly I hear a loud - really loud - "bang" and feel a blow to my head. For a minute everything goes very vague, and I don't know at all what's happened. My head feels as if something's hit the front of it and gone out the back, I have the idea it made a big hole in the back of my head - I can feel the pressure. I'm sure I've been shot. Nobody else seems to have heard anything - they're just the same as they were a minute ago. Maybe I'm dead and they just haven't noticed. I think, if I'm dead maybe I can move out of my body and look at it, that would tell me what's going on. But it doesn't work. I'm still right here, not dead, no bullet holes, and my friends haven't heard anything happen at all... Well, still, we have to go back. Linda and I are gonna go back into the apartment - she's got to measure some curtains. Actually, we've done this before more than once, and I keep on having to hide behind furniture - frankly it's getting harder, too. If this keeps up I'm gonna get caught. But we go, driving in Linda's Mercedes. She parks it in front, under the awning and we get out - there's 3 of us, me, Linda, and another girl, shorter, blonde. I've got something in my hands: left hand, a sort of handbag of Linda's, a sort of green-flowered fabric roll; right hand a folder or papers of some kind. I figure I'd better ditch 'em, they could get in my way. I've only gone a little way toward the front door, so I let them go ahead while I go back to the driver's side of the car. We've left the doors ajar so we can get in fast and make a quick exit if we need to. This makes me nervous in the first place, and now here I am putting something inside that could get stolen. I lean in the back door, thinking to put the handbag under the front seat on the passenger side, but I can see how easy it would be to spot if someone looked. I push it as far forward as I can but boy I'm uncomfortable with it. But nuts, I've got to get on inside and I can't draw any more attention to myself either. Geez. So I get on out of the car, debating whether I should at least shut the doors, but the others are expecting them to be open, and we may really need to hustle. More dilemma. I'm out, I straighten up. I see a man in front of me with a gun. Oops. Not good. I look around. I see plenty of people about, and I figure that's helpful, I'll just back up and mingle, he can't shoot with all these people here. Except that another guy, behind me, an old man in a suit, also pulls a gun and points it at me. I'm taken aback. Then a little girl with pigtails next to him does the same thing. I'm really worried now, and I stand real still for a minute. Until I somehow manage to get away and start running - I run behind the building and climb over fences, getting away through peoples' back yards and around houses. I've been doing this a lot lately, I'm pretty likely to make it. | 1MEA, 1FSA, 2JSA, 1MSA, 2JKA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 323 | 1985-1997 | 6/21/91 | F | A | I'm at a big the Festival. The part where I am is near some water, and in between is a long pole stretched between 2 trees, being used to hang clothes on. These belong to several of us girls who work here, it's our costumes and regular clothes too - a lot of them. The pole is really weighted down. I'm going past it to go down towards the water, and I notice and hear the pole slip. It's just wedged against the tree and it's finally given way. It hasn't slipped too far yet, and I try to push it back up but it's just too hard for me. (This is a tree branch maybe 4"-5" around - must be 30' long.) I'm worried it's going to slip all the way, so I figure I'll tell the maintenance man - maybe he can help. He's around here somewhere, an older guy, with a tool belt and all, stereotype. I go on a little way to where there's a kind of shed next to the water and it's for photography. We have a staff photographer and I'm her assistant - which doesn't mean much, just that I have to take over when she's gone. But what they tell me when I get down there is that she is gone - sick, I think, whatever it is it's temporary, but I'm in charge now. This is not good. The fact is I know very little about photography, just learning, and I'm sure I can't handle it. But everybody says, "You'll be fine, there's not that much to do." Oh, boy. I start back up the rise again. I see the maintenance man, he's been talking to the landlady. I hadn't wanted her to know about the pole falling down in case she'd think it was my fault. So I wait till they're apart and I tell him what I saw, come look. As we get up there, though, I see that it has come loose and fallen off. There was a cap of some gold-color metal on the end which was fixed to the tree, and the pole's just come right out of it. [It wasn't like this earlier - just the end of the tree branch wedged tight.] Now he's got to fix the whole thing. I hope he doesn't think it was anything I did. I walk up the hill a bit further, where there's a sort of LT going on - there's the team area setup in back, with something behind it - a rise, a fence of hedges, something. We can sit on some rocks that are here, and hummocks, as well as chairs. Before I get settled, though, I think, "You know, I haven't been down to that area by the front gate that goes off to the right - I'd like to go take a stroll down there and see what's there." I remember how it looks, and that there were some cute things in a shop there before. Also: I'm sewing a button (or something) on a shirt I'm wearing, and at the same time taking a few stitches in my face where I've been cut. [I don't know how that happened.] There's a pretty bad gash a couple of inches long right next to my lip (on the left side? Am I looking in a mirror?) and every so often I'll take a stitch there. When I'm finished I look, and see that the stitches (with that black thread) aren't very visible, and I can smile and open my mouth okay, it just stretches the last stitch a bit. | 2FKA, 1MOA, 1FOA, 1FOA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 324 | 1985-1997 | 6/27/91 | F | A | I'm in a friend's house - a fairly big place, she has more than 1 brother or sister (though I can't say how many). I've come here last night late, or early in the morning, I was with somebody else and we got put to bed - I slept in the living room on the couch, there are actually several of us girls here as guests and the place is filling up. I've waked up after everybody else - they wanted to go out early and I stayed, so I've got the place to myself. It looks like morning - yellow light, sun coming through the windows, it has that early-morning feel. I poke around some, looking at the house (a nice but fairly typical suburban house - nice decor, they're pretty well-to-do) and I go into the kitchen, think about breakfast, etc. I also go down the hall - my luggage is in one of the bedrooms somewhere - and suddenly discover my friend's dad is still here in bed. He's rolled over, with the sheet pulled tight around him, and I'm really startled, I thought I was alone and here I am moving around, maybe making noise and waking him up. O dear. I quietly go back to the living room. Shortly the others come bustling back in. They're all bubbly and chatty (like typical teenage girls), and we're making some sort of plans for something else later. The dad gets up and comes out, all dressed. One of the other girls comes in, going on about her car - she has parked it under the house, and now there's no way to get it back out again, she says we have to cut a hole in the floor (this floor - the living room, where we're sitting). I'm sitting facing her, listening to this (there are other conversations going on in the room), and I find it amusing - ha, ha, look what you've gotten yourself into - I say, "Are you crazy?" and go over to get the dad to come and talk to her about this. I explain it to him sarcastically, and he gets pissed at me. He turns and looks at me over his shoulder as he's facing her, a look of big-time disapproval, and says [something to tell me to go away - not mean, but diplomatically forceful, he means it], and I'm crushed. I didn't think I was behaving so badly, and I sure didn't mean to make fun of her - I think maybe he thinks I was making fun of her because she's black (she's the only black person here). I wasn't. And I'm really hurt. I want to get away, and I go down the hall to the girls' bedroom, where there are several beds (including a bunk bed next to the window). I sit down on the bed next to the window, which has a lot of large pillows all over it. I move a couple so I can lay down somewhat, and get sort of wedged next to some of them, but I don't care, I can't be bothered to move them all. Actually, it's quite comfortable this way. I feel a little better. Some of the other girls come in, still talking about what we're supposed to do, and they gather around me, as if to be sympathetic and let me know I'm okay. I'm still feeling isolated, and I appreciate them for being nice. | 1FKA, 2JSA, 1MKA, 1FSA, 1FSA | CO D, AN 1FKA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 325 | 1985-1997 | 6/29/91 | F | A | I'm in an old house kind of in the country (we're sleeping over like at Lorren's - she's here, not sure who else). The place belongs to somebody's family. They've moved out, maybe somebody died - it's been a long time and everything was just left here, or some of it anyway; and there's going to be a garage sale or some such thing with the rest. Lorren's here partly to clean things up. There's a lot of bits of furniture, rather a jumble. We're just getting up in the morning, poking around. A guy has come to visit Lorren, she's showing him around, he's English. I am in a position in the living room very like in Lorren's apartment, and I get up and look at this piece of furniture near this corner of the room (where there are 2 doors - one's the front door, don't know about the other - one's open a bit). I think it's a desk, this thing, with a typing stand sitting loose next to it. An old piece, maybe antique. I sort of clamber past it, giving the stand a spray of some wax-cleaner, and since I haven't got a cloth I rub it with my hand - all very casual, sort of by-the-way. As I finish, I say to this other woman who's in the room, "There! If that isn't a hand-rubbed finish, I don't know what is!" Looks kinda nice. I'm curious how it would have been attached to the desk, since it doesn't have an open end. As I look closer, I see that each piece has a little ring-catch toward the bottom (looks like the ring half of a hook-and-eye latch). So I figure you hook them up with some kind of little hardware piece. Looking at the "desk", I realize it has some odd pieces inset into the top. I examine these, and underneath and discover, by George, this isn't a desk, it's a sewing machine! Golly! Upon getting it open, I find there's not actually one in it, but still it's pretty cool - nice little dark wood piece. I remark upon it and say that this is very interesting because actually I have a sewing machine - I'm thinking maybe I'll take this thing home. I wonder how much it would be selling for. I think I want to get out from behind this, and the corner is kind of blocked off - I consider if I can get out the front door, maybe I can go around to the side, but figure that won't work. (I had shut the door.) While I'm here, Lorren comes back into the room with the Englishman - he's all bubbly, making fun comments about decorating the place, and he says here's Lorren all fixed up now to put things to rights, have a look - she's found something in the other room and put it on, but I can't see because I don't have my glasses on. I don't know quite where they are, and hunt around, saying well, hell, where are they? And I find an earpiece, put them on my face, and still can't see - by this time I realize she's got some sort of wings on her back, like fairy wings, but I can't see them clearly. I complain, say, wait, wait, these aren't the right ones (they're my reading glasses) - and I look some more for the right ones, they should be nearby someplace. | 1FKA, 2JSA, 1MSA, 1FSA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 326 | 1985-1997 | 7/5/91 | F | A | I'm in a gym or workout studio, at the entrance end where there's some furniture, and along with a few other people, I'm looking up on the wall at a red flag. It's just solid red, on velveteen, looks like, and it's a kind of trophy for my brother (- although he's a little mixed up with My ex). He's just gotten his "belt" in some form of martial art - or similar physical skill - and they give you this to display. (I guess that makes it a red belt.) He's very proud of this, brought us to look at it for a surprise. I'm pleased for him, but not especially excited, and there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of point to just standing here and looking at a piece of red cloth. I wonder how soon I can get away, without hurting his feelings. Besides, I have to go to the bathroom. There's a class about to start [I think it's a yoga class, and it's unclear whether I'm supposed to be in it or not] and I go past them, trying to be unobtrusive, to the bathroom at the other end of the room. (There are windows down here, letting in some soft midday-light. This is an oldish place, probably in a school. Everything's used-looking.) I go in and push the door to, but it won't latch. It has a standard brass turn-latch on it, and when you press on the door it seems like it goes in, but it doesn't. The toilet is just a little too far away to hold it shut comfortably. This is a problem. I start to sit down anyway, hoping nobody will come into the line of sight of the door (it just stands open maybe 6"-8"), but the whole class is called down to this end of the room for a demonstration. They file past, and I can see their faces. I try to make the door latch again but it doesn't work. | 2JSA, 1MKA, 2JSA | HA D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 327 | 1985-1997 | 7/10/91 | F | A | I'm at work, sort of - lunch hour or break, I think. The "library" is in some kind of warehouse-y place, a number of things under one roof, including this little shop, or kiosk, really, that sells cutesy decorative things, gewgaws. It's run by a couple of women and mostly staffed by them, very suburban-businesswoman, you know the type, that wear tasteful flowered dresses, they're on the tall side and very well-groomed. And slightly mean. They have a young guy working for them, kind of a stock boy/clerk, and while I'm there I talk to him. The others are somewhere nearby. I'm particularly interested in some miniature kitchen tools they have, they're mostly plastic but I have something in mind that they'd be useful for, and I'll probably buy some. Especially I like the little measuring-spoon set - it's like mine, only different colors (mostly red though). I'm looking for more in the next bin. On the main bin there was a sign that said "$5 for all", and I'm not sure it means $5 for one complete set of these, or $5 apiece (unlikely - they're just cheap little plastic things), or $5 for the entire bin. I believe I'll ask, but as I turn back towards it, the sign's gone, and the boy is putting things away because they're closing up. He's not sure what to tell me, either, but says he can ask the others. I tell him not to bother, and start back for the (library). I am nearby to a back door, the heavy sort with a bar you press down. Becky Crow's just coming in this door with several large cold-drink cups. She's picked them up for her staff - some are drinks, some smoothies, and there's too much of them for her to manage and the door too. I offer to help, taking a couple off her hands, and she asks if I'll take them down to Lisa, who's just coming around the corner at the end of the "hallway". She stops at this cart sort of thing, and I bring her these drinks while Becky gets reorganized. | 2FSA, 1MOA, 1FKA, 1FKA, 1FKA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 328 | 1985-1997 | 7/13/91 | F | A | I'm in the kitchen at (Peggy and James' house - although the sink faces the outside wall of the wrong side of the house) with Jenny and also Roger Daltrey, who's wearing a tight white T-shirt and looking very fit. There are other people in the house, we're having some kind of get-together, and I'm helping with the dishes. Jenny's on my left, we've been talking, and Roger comes up behind me. He has a bag of foodstuffs to be put away - leftovers from something, and I take an interest in them as I take them out. There's some soup in a plastic container - he says I should try that, how about he fixes it up for me? (I haven't eaten - haven't been here long.) Oh, yes, that would be great! I remark how good he looks - he's put on some weight, yes, but he's fitter, more developed, and he looks taller - this surprises and amuses him. Jenny's never seen him before, so she doesn't know if he looks taller or not, she's at a loss there. We're having some trouble hearing each other, there's apparently some noise, we have to repeat things and shout, missing a lot of what's said. Roger asks me for something for the soup, I think he said fat, but I'm not sure so I ask him to repeat - he says fat again, and I don't know why, but okay - I ask Jenny if she's seen any and she says try one of those bags in the refrigerator - all the group food's packed up in there. I pull one out and look in, remarking on a couple of things in the top [one of which I've forgotten - it slipped down toward the bottom of the bag]. I say, What? well, what do you know? Look at this, little tiny chocolate-chip - no I mean chocolate - oh, like - chocolate-sandwich cookies! [They look like Oreos, actually] How neat! But no - they're not cookies, I guess - they're marked "Tylenol" and they're in a Tylenol bottle. How weird. Oh, well. [Whatever else is in the bag, I remark on it to Jenny, saying there must have been a LT event, look at all this stuff.] She says it's not hers, actually it belongs to _____, she has a date with him later and he's going to fix her a meal. Oho - so Jenny's seeing a new man. Hmm. Meanwhile there's been no fat turn up, and Roger's gone on cooking without it. He's produced a couple of fried eggs that he's somewhat dubious about (so that's what he wanted the fat for), but I think it's swell of him to be doing this for me. | 1FKA, 1MPA, 2ISA | CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 329 | 1985-1997 | 7/27/91 | F | A | I'm in a large hotel with a group - mostly LT people - and the place is quite crowded, I think we're here unexpectedly too, so we're sort of camping out in a balcony - maybe even with sleeping bags. My bed is next to the balcony edge, and I'm looking out over it with a couple of other women (one of whom is Linda T., I think). The one behind me has something the other wants to see - I'm actually sitting on the ledge with my feet up on it - and the one beside me reaches very awkwardly across me for it, I'm afraid she's going to knock me off. Actually I wouldn't fall all the way down, I guess (this is higher than 1 floor, maybe) - there are other structures at different levels around - but I don't know. Below you can see a large open space, lots of people milling around (it's more like a mall), bright light - up here it's dim, we're getting ready to go to bed. Sandra McLean comes in, she sits near us, and somebody says we should do something, like have a game, and I remember I've got some Mah-Jongg tiles in my bag - I think they came with it, and I've just left them there. I get them out and have a look at them - none of us are particularly interested in that, so I'm going to put them back, when I discover a little pocket in the bag. It's a kind of duffel, colorful, and there's already a zipper pocket at the end of it, but now I see there's another, small pocket, on the top, close to the end, just the right size for little things. I'm quite pleased. About this time a boy comes in, one of our group who's been in an altercation with somebody downstairs. Whatever it was about, I don't know, but I do know this guy sometimes does shoot his mouth off a bit, and apparently he just said the wrong thing to this other guy, who's a bit of a bully, and he shoved him, or maybe even knocked him down, and now he's hurt - sort of banged up around the shoulders, he's carrying them funny and he looks so sad and hurt. I feel terribly sorry for him and want to comfort him, partly because he's so hurt and I know guys often hold that stuff in and it hurts worse when you do that; and partly because when holding on to that pain, you can hold on to your physical pain too, and I want him to have comfort for that. [At first I had him looking like Johnny Depp, and then later he seems to be Tim Matheson and I have this idea that Depp is the bully.] I'm a little shy because I do have a little bit of a crush on him, and I don't want him to think I'm taking advantage - also because I don't know him especially well and he might not want a hug from somebody not close to him. But I go and tell him how sorry I am and make a move to hug him, and he hugs me back. I'm very careful with his shoulders, so as not to hurt him, and I try to let my energy come through and help relax him. He cries a bit and lets his pain show*. (I'm still holding the Mah-Jongg tiles in my left hand.) | 2JSA, 1FKA, 1MSA, 1ISA, 1MSA | HA D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 330 | 1985-1997 | 7/27/91 | F | A | Next, I'm starting to set up a sort of doll camp (is it for kitties?) next to the house. I live in this brick suburban house with a lot of people - I think of them as family, so there should be a daddy somewhere, but all I know about right now is grown women. One of them, my friend (or sister?) is setting this up with me between the fence and the garage wall. She's pretty much finished hers, but I got delayed and am just starting. We've got these bamboo stakes and some cloth, to make a little pavilion (each) with, and some dolly-furniture. There's other junk piled up around here too. I start to set up my tent/pavilion-thing, copying hers, but don't do it very well. Even as I get it worked out, the light is starting to fade, it's late in the afternoon and I should be putting these things away for the night; I'll start again tomorrow. I'm considering, though, which of these things could be left out overnight - maybe the stakes - but no, a dog might dig them up and take them, or it might rain and they'd be sunk in the mud. So I pull them up. There's a little 3- or 4-shelf rack-thing on the wall, it's wood, maybe it would be ok to leave it and put things on it - maybe not. About this time, here comes a little parade from the back, there's a little fenced yard just off the house's corner, and Marilyn, Linda (or Phyllis?), and Bonnie are bringing some junk in a cart up to the front. Marilyn's pushing it (it's either a wheelbarrow or a grocery cart) and there's something big in the front like a piece of plywood, that blocks visibility. And the whole cart is really crowding the space, I'm afraid she's gonna run over our stuff. I tell her to look out, please be careful, but she's rather oblivious. Linda/Phyllis tells me don't worry, it'll be okay, she's always like this. A little beyond where my stuff is, there's a frame with glass in it (or a mirror) on top of something, and it's broken so that a long, pointed piece of glass is leaning out of it. I'm concerned about it, especially since it makes me think of that part in The Stand where a woman deliberately cuts her throat and sticks a piece of glass in her eye so her head and face would be mutilated. Of course, that was intentional, but this particular piece of glass is about eye level, and I don't want anybody to run into it. I think I can tape it up, but Marilyn's still coming and I don't have time, so I just hold it up, very carefully out of the way as they pass. Then I go back and find some tape - I thought I had that brown tape but all there is, is masking tape - and then I put some on the edges, meaning to cover them all up so I can handle it, then tape the whole piece flat in so it won't stick out. Bonnie tells me I'd better be nice to Nick - he's especially miffed because his "place" has been disturbed. [I don't know if that's something they did - I think he likes to sleep in the garage - or if this little play-camp for kitties is for him. | 2JSA, 1FKA, 1FKA, 1FKA, 1ANI | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 331 | 1985-1997 | 7/29/91 | F | A | Next, I'm in a public place - maybe a restaurant - and I'm near a window-counter thing where either you order, or you pay. I'm in line (the rest of my group - LT people again - are still elsewhere - at a table?) with some women I'm acquainted with, they're lawyers, all well-groomed, nice looking, nice suits. They know me from the library, or at least a couple of them do, and one is saying, "She's really good, she really knows her stuff" to the others, who nod and look interested. I feel as if they are older than me, mostly because of their professional status and income and grooming, but I know that we're more or less the same ages, I'm just aware that I'm not on that level with them - I wonder how they see me. Something is mentioned about a job they've been trying to fill - one of them even holds up a piece of paper with an example of what they need done, and I can see it's just putting things in order and shelving books. I think they don't know what my regular job is in the Business Office, they just know me as being in the library, and they don't know what else I can do or whether this would be paying enough. I say to particularly one of them, well, it's certainly something I could do, but there are other things we ought to talk about - I wouldn't say no...without seeing what else there might be going on with it and what I could do for you - how about if I come see you and we'll talk? So we fix that up, and just then Lori shows up next to me (there seems to be a kind of cafeteria line to my right), she's just arrived. I haven't seen her in a week or a few, maybe, but my word she looks awful! She's lost a lot of weight, her face looks drawn and pinched, and she's cut her hair short, which is certainly no help. I'm very concerned and ask her what on earth's happened. [There is no reply before I wake up.] | 2FKA, 1FKA, 1MKA, 1FKA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 332 | 1985-1997 | 7/28/91 | F | A | I'm sitting in on this high-school class. [I don't remember why I'm here, but it's sort of a matter of circumstances.] They're studying science, parts of the atom and chemistry. It's a room where the teacher is at the bottom and the seats go up like a theater, quite steep. The teacher (actually I think there's more than one) is asking questions and I can answer most of them, that's fun. Then they stop - I guess for a study break - and I go to the opposite side of the room and sit with this male teacher, who's talking to a few of the boys separately to find out if one of them is responsible for something. I'm just waiting for class to be over so we can get on with something. I live in a sort of community house with several other people. I'm trying to work out how this TV (or something) antenna works, trying to get a better picture (or reception?); I pull out the 2 ends till they're even, that's not much help, then the phone rings and a woman wants to know something that I have to go find out about. While I'm talking to her I realize that another fixture has an antenna, it's attached to the column here and pulls out sideways. I just give it a tug and find it's longer than it looks, I didn't think it had that much length to it. But I go off, and I think I know the answer to her question but I get distracted in the bathroom, talking to somebody else. Then she leaves and I'm dawdling. Princess Diana walks in, someone shouts from outside, "Who is keeping this line on hold?" and I have to go. I'm supposed to be in this one bedroom on the left side, center of the house, and I like it best, but there's been a mixup and someone is shuffling people around. This young man has been put in here with me and we've both got beds so we've spent one night in here, but now I'm overhearing the landlady saying she's going to put me somewhere else. That's not fair, I was here first. | 1IOA, 2JSA, 1FSA, 1FPA, 1MSA, 1FSA, 1MSA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 333 | 1985-1997 | 7/30/91 | F | A | I'm with a couple of other people, one's a photographer (or even a film producer or director), dressed up in one of those sleeveless jacket things over a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, etc. We are interviewing former superheroes for something commercial [maybe a movie, not sure] in a loft sort-of-thing, upstairs, lots of space, reminds me of where Images by Aki used to be on Greenville. The prospects are coming one by one, and this lady just now coming up the stairs is next. She's blonde, short hair, nice-looking - wearing a dress with a full skirt, a sort of marble-y black and gold print. It's nice on her, but we wanted to photograph everybody in costume. We say hello to her, say a couple of things or ask a few questions, the usual, and we can see she's very grave, almost sad. We ask her about the costume - she doesn't answer for a while, and we're very concerned. Her face does turn sad and dejected, hopeless. She makes a hopeless gesture and starts to pull down her left shoulder strap, as if to take off the dress. To me it seems this is about her wanting to get out of the superheroes business, but not being able to. For her it's awful, and she's breaking up. I go to her and tell her it's okay, you don't have to do this, and she starts to cry. I hold her - there's a chair here, I sit on it and let her lean back against me and I stroke her hair. She cries some more and gets through it. Eventually she goes off with someone, and the photographer-guy kneels by the chair, and says, "You know, your gift is in your voice - that's where your power comes from, you have the power to heal in your voice." [Or something very close to that.] I'm a little surprised, but it's nice of him to say that. | 1MOA, 2MSA, 1FSA, 1ISA | SD 1MKA, CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 334 | 1985-1997 | 8/1/91 | F | A | I'm in my house, and there's a bird in here - it's absolutely beautiful, it's a fairly big bird and has peacock feathers, very beautifully designed. (It's not a peacock, it's a flying bird, the body is beige-ish, and the peacock feathers are in different places.) I don't know how it got in here, I suppose it flew in by accident when somebody had the door open. Well, I expect it wants out - I'll go hold the front door open and maybe it'll see. I don't want to startle it, it might just fly around the house and never get out - you know how these things can be. It does move closer to the door (I was a room away a minute ago), and I step very carefully, quietly past it. Now at the door, I see that somebody else is here. [This is no longer clear, but it's definitely one animal that lives here and one that doesn't - I could presume one of my cats, but I'm not sure. And the other is not a cat, for sure, but not necessarily any particular other animal - it has characteristics of a lamb, but I think it's a combination of animals. Basically it's small, cute, and innocent-looking.] I'm concerned that they'll get out if I just leave the door open for the bird - a pretty silly situation. | 1ANI, 1ISA, 1ANI | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 335 | 1985-1997 | 8/3/91 | F | A | I think I'm in England, on a sort of "field" trip with a group of friends - we're sort of camping out in a nearly-empty storefront that I think is being used as an antiques warehouse. We have sleeping bags and all, scattered around on the floor. There may be 8 or 10 of us, including Johanna. We're sort of lounging around, there's no particular plans, and some of us go out for a walk. There's a fair number of people about, it's a nice friendly place, and cute little shops up and down the street. A little further down there's a sort of square, with flowers and seats, where people sit. As we stroll along that way, I pass by a guy who doesn't look nice at all - scruffy, sinister, dirty - and he says something to me (he's also black) - I don't want to encourage him, so I just nod or something and go on. He gets up and follows. I walk a little faster, but he's still there. [He sticks with me for a bit, but I do some clever maneuver that loses him, which I've forgotten now.] So I carry on back to the storefront in a hurry. We're having a good time, sitting around joking. Somebody comes up with what's left of a bag of bagel chips and passes it around. Johanna and I leap on it, we're hungry. I get one, pass it, then grab it back and get another, Johanna does too. It's evening, the light is dimming. A man comes along to take us somewhere. He has a "flivver" - it's really quite neat, a black horse and buggy, the spidery kind with a folding top, and this one has a sort of high rumble seat. He (the man) talks to our leader, who gets us all organized and our luggage gathered, and we pile in. I get put in the rumble seat, and I'm really doubtful about this - it's really high, and bouncy, I can see right over the canvas top of the carriage and it's precarious up here. But they tell me I'll be fine (there's someone else up here too). We go off. It's a nice ride, off out of town through some lovely green woods and little hills. It's night now, all quiet and rich and exotic-seeming. We arrive at the man's house. It's a farm or an estate, I guess - big place. We stop at what I guess is a barn or carriage-house and get out. His daughter comes to greet us, she's maybe 14, long dark hair, pretty. Some of us go off to the house with her. While I'm still here looking at something, the man's son comes by the side of the building, leading a pony on a rope. The pony is being frisky, and the boy is getting pulled along now. There's a big mud patch right at the corner, and - whoops! pony slips and goes down, right over, legs up, and of course the boy gets pulled right down too, on his face. His dad laughs, so do we. I notice it's daylight, and I'm amazed. [There's a scene fragment about getting ready to go home, and I'm aware that in another dream I was talking about, and intending to practice, lucid dreaming.] | 2JKA, 1FKA, 1MSA, 1ISA, 1MSA | CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 336 | 1985-1997 | 8/4/91 | F | A | I'm in a (place like a movie theater) with friends, and I have to go to the bathroom - it's around a wall and down a corridor. There's 1 or 2 people in here to start with, and I find the catch on the door has to be just-so before it will hold. [Somehow the scene changes, and there are 2-3 other girls in here with me - the space is wider and the wall doesn't go all the way across - it's open on the right. Around the wall it's an office - Andrea H. is at a desk with someone else, and she's telling me she has an assignment for me when I get through. I duck back around the wall; now I'm wondering how I can pee with all these people around. [I do something, which results in a puddle of pee that I need to pick up and dump out, and I get my feet and legs splashed - it's not a whole lot, but I'm annoyed. Some even got on my skirt. I go over to Andrea - we walk outside while she tells me something (it's either about what I'm to do when I'm gone from here, or while she's gone somewhere). We stop by a short open bookcase with various things on it, including a shoe - it has no mate, and I pick it up out of idle curiosity. She says it was left by one of the branch managers. [I'm thinking a black one.] It's black fabric, high-heeled, and actually open down the front, with scalloped edges. It's big too, and I put it on for the fun of it, considering I've got on flats and this will make me quite off-balance. It sure is big - it's almost big enough that my foot would fall straight out of the opening on top. I find this very amusing - I expect Andrea to remark on it, but she doesn't, and so I call to a friend nearby and show her. (There are several people about, doing things.) Now I need to go, and I walk around to the front of the house where my car is, and I stop and say hello to the cats, especially Alleycat, who I haven't seen for a while - they're perched up on a very low roof or wall where the driveway stops. I get in my car [or somebody's anyway] and drive a little way down the street - it's a very nice street with tall green trees, a roof of leaves, sunlight showing through. [There's some reason I have to turn around - I pull into a driveway, back out, and go the other way. I have trouble adjusting the mirror, and I'm afraid I'm going to hit a man or his car with the outside mirror on mine - it's quite large. But it turns out okay. | 2FKA, 1FKA, 1ISA, 1IOA, 2JSA | AN D, CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 337 | 1985-1997 | 8/5/91 | F | A | I'm in a school, we're doing a LT, it's the afternoon break. Most of the trainees are here, but most of the team is gone, and the trainers aren't here but a couple of guys in suits who belong to the school are. This is a regular classroom, with windows, and somebody's seen smoke. I look around and find a very odd thing outside a window: there's a desk, with a chair, everything as if it were in an office, right outside one window, behind a hedge, and on it is a can or something with smoke coming out, just pouring out in a funnel (as if it started from a little spot and was flowing fast). It may not be an actual fire yet, but it's unattended and looks dangerous to me. I go and tell the guys about it (the ones in the suits), concerned whether we should put out an alarm. They don't think it's such a big deal, and I say to the group, well then I'll go see what I should do about it - I should have time, it's a quarter till and the Training doesn't resume till 6 o'clock, right? Somebody says no, it's starting at 5.50. O dear. Well, then, I'll stay till then and I can do something. However, we've been hearing noises from another part of the school for a bit - and now I can see flames from a part of the building we can see through our windows, and people are shouting "Fire!" at a distance. We'd better do something. | 2MKA, 2MOA, 1ISA, 1ISA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 338 | 1985-1997 | 8/5/91 | F | A | I'm at Peggy and James' house (at least it's supposed to be, but doesn't look like the real one). I've just stopped in here around noon, lunch-hour, to visit for a while but nobody's here. (It's a sort of homey place, white, black trim, probably 30's or 40's, modest, a front porch with a corner and 2 doors.) I go to check the mail - there's a long mailbox [like their real one only longer], and I fumble somewhat getting the mail out - I pull it away from the wall. It's been stuck up there with double-sided tape, which I've twisted somewhat and I'm afraid I don't get it back on very well, but it looks ok, sort of. While I'm here on the porch I see that there are 4 people - kids, looking a little hoodlum-ish (at least one's got a black leather jacket on), one's a girl with long blonde hair, one guy has black "greaser"-style hair, etc. - hanging around near the yard, on bicycles. It's all open here, no fences, and the house faces a corner of a wide business street - plenty of visibility, but not many people about. They're looking at the house, and now I see they have guns, actually pointed this way. I am very disturbed, but I think the thing to do is casually go to the car and lock myself in. I think I'll be safer there. (It's my mom's car, I think, and the house has also become hers now.) I get into the back seat and start locking the doors, but they're too fast for me - one jumps into the front passenger seat and leans over, pointing his gun at me, grinning. I freeze up. One or 2 have gone into the house too, and I'm suddenly horrified I've left it open - somebody holds up a bundle of money that was somewhere, I'm mortified that I've let them steal from my own mother. They all get in the car and one says we're going on a little trip, you just sit back and take it easy (or something like that). All very standard cop-show hoodlum stuff. [Next scene:] We're in a police station - all of them are here, and a policeman (detective? plain clothes, I think) and my mother are here. They're talking, and from what I can gather they meant to give themselves up. Maybe all along, I don't understand if this whole thing was some sort of ruse or not. I'm still terrified, pulled in on myself, won't say anything, in shock. I look from one to the other and don't quite believe what I hear. I want to cry but I can't. My mom says something. I get up and go out of the room (did somebody suggest it?), through a bit of corridor to a waiting room where there's a couch, chair, end table, lamp, etc. Finally I break down and sob hysterically, falling to my knees and huddling over the chair. I think somebody comes to comfort me, I think it's my mom. | 2JKA, 1FSA, 1MSA, 1FKA, 1ISA | AP D, CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 339 | 1985-1997 | 8/30/91 | F | A | I'm at a place that resembles the yoga studio. This is a house, fairly big, and long - with various doors down the side. I'm with some other people and Fred, who's got to feed the pets for the owners of the house, they're on vacation, and he's gone on in. It's rather dark, like a very dark day, or dusk, but that's normal. The house may be old or not, but it's kind of clumsy-looking, not exactly ramshackle but tired, neglected, something like that, and that's normal too. Some men show up looking for the residents, or at least the wife, and we tell them they're not there. They ask [something we can't answer; either where they've gone or can they - the men - come into the house for some reason] and we (or at least I) say we can ask Fred about it, he's the only one who knows anything. So we go down to the door where the kitchen is. I thought it was one in particular and then realized it was the next one instead, so I open that one and here's Fred, behind the refrigerator door, which opens across the space of the outside door. It's also up a step, so all I see of Fred is the top of his head. I start to ask him our question, but he waves me away with his arm - I start again, "But...", and he does it again, very vehemently, so I just shrug and say okay, and close the door. I assume that maybe the dogs are very touchy and might get vicious if there's some interruption, or something's going on in there that he shouldn't be distracted from. The door is metal, and rather flimsy - it doesn't close very well and I fiddle with it for a bit. [Next scene: this is directly connected, but I'm pretty sure doesn't happen in the same place.] There's this girl who's staying in this apartment that's part of high-rise combination office/residential/shopping conglomeration. She's young, blonde, short hair, nice-looking - I don't know if she lives here or is staying with a friend, but she's alone for now. She goes down the hall to this copy office, a kind of self-serve place that also has files in it, and a couple of secretarial types who work at desks. Our girl is looking for a file in some sort of drawer - the files are left of the door, and there's a table in the center of this end of the room, so to look in the lower files you're rather crowded between it and the table. One of the "secretaries" comes over to the same area and in order to get where she wants, she has to reach around the girl. This is pretty close in, and the girl is very uncomfortable. She gets up as soon as she can. Back in the apartment, some men come in. They're all wearing suits and seem a bit on the tough side, and apparently this is some sort of a kidnapping. The leader forces the girl to tie up the other guys (they're part of the gang, but still this the plan) and then he ties her up, and then himself. Now, you can't actually tie yourself up too well of course, and this is rather perfunctory, but then he can still do the next thing which is to set the place on fire. Actually there is a fire, but the whole place doesn't burn up - there's a lot of smoke and it's very murky but the fire goes out. It appears this is intentional, it's something akin to a suicide pact, but more into S & M. Later [presumably the previous episode is past] she's come back to the copy room again, but this time she's nervous, looking very uptight about something. She stands for a bit on the other side of the table as if she were waiting for something. Then she goes to the file again, and the same thing happens - the secretary comes over and practically has her arms around our girl to get at some files. This time she freaks out, though, and fights back, struggling, kicking, screaming. The secretary tries to subdue her, which makes it worse, and they knock around some more, and then the girl gets away. She runs down the hall, which is where I see her. I start to chase her - there's a reason for this, I'm some sort of law enforcement - and she gets away down the turns. She's frantic - pretty mussed, and her knees are all scratched up, pantyhose (or whatever she's wearing) all torn, she's bleeding a bit, so she's quite noticeable. We've come out into this very large mall, multilevel, lots of people about, bright lights. She runs to an escalator in the middle, and takes off down it. We (someone is with me) follow, and I hesitate for a second at the top, seeing that there's not many people up here but it's crowded at the bottom - the escalator is very wide - and I'm afraid I'm not sure-footed enough to run down this thing. But, I think, I've got on good running shoes and I can do this. So off we go, at top speed, taking 2 or 3 steps at a time, and down toward the bottom. I realize that it's not as crowded as it had looked from the top, there's enough room. We dash on across the floor after her, to a door that leads to the underground parking garage. It's a garage, all right, there's cars here, but boy is it grungy. We're up a bit, you go down a half-flight of concrete steps to the parking floor. Everything here is covered with grime, and to our left a car is being picked up by a filthy tow truck - it looks like they've been working on it, and have had to give up, so they're towing it. The mechanics are all black, dressed in sweaty, greasy dark-blue short-sleeved mechanic shirts and pants. All their stuff has pounds of that thick black grease mixed with dirt on it that you could scrape off like mud. (This is all normal too - in this world, there are thousands of mechanics, they're like the central figures in society, rather the way doctors, lawyers, or policemen or politicians are here - one defers to them, and there are always mechanics working on broken-down cars everywhere you go.) We dash down the stairs, following the girl around the center rows of cars, to the left, then right again to the back wall, where there's a concrete walk up some steps, with a rail, and it turns around to more steps descending into a pit. There's a door down there, and she's making for that - I gather that this is the passage to the "gang's" secret hideout, how they've been getting to places they break into. The girl pauses on the steps, looks up at us still on the walkway, and she's wilder than ever. She's got dark circles around her eyes like a 30's Dracula movie, and a maniacal grin. She flings some taunt at us, like, "We'll be back - we'll get you" or "You'll get yours, you'll see", something like that. | 2JSA, 1MKA, 2ANI, 1FSA, 1FSA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 340 | 1985-1997 | 9/3/91 | F | A | I'm in the diner across from the library eating a "Veggie-Burger" with some other people. They all get finished and go, but there's one woman still here, and she says, "How can you eat that? Whenever I eat any kind of meat I just get sick", and I'm really startled. I thought this was a veggie/soy patty of some sort, and I scrape the melted cheese off (rather a lot, a white cheese with bits of peppers and other veg in it) and examine the patty closely - by George it looks like hamburger - thin, but hamburger - and I pull it apart with my fingers to see if it feels like meat. It does. I take it up to the counter. The woman there isn't the regular person but I show her and complain, "How can you do this? This is hamburger! What a rotten thing to do!" She's somewhat taken aback but doesn't say anything. In the back of my mind I've been thinking they must have thought they could call it "Veggie-Burger" if they just put vegetable things on top. | 2JSA, 1FSA, 1MKA | CO D, CO 1MKA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 341 | 1985-1997 | 9/3/91 | F | A | I'm with a bunch of people somewhere out of the country, maybe England, I figure we're doing a LT, and we're staying in this place that's old and large, with lots of rooms. We've sort of bunked where we could, girls here, boys there, and most of our luggage (or at least where my clothes are) is in this big long room rather like an attic, with various wood roof supports, trunks, hanging-racks, old furniture, the odd cobweb, dust. My friend and I are going back here to collect our stuff so we can pack, it's time to go home, and I'm filled with thoughts about travelling, planes and such. As I'm picking things up I realize that they're pretty scattered around, as if in our coming and going we'd been pretty casual, hanging things here and there, setting things down in different places, and I'll have to collect them. But somehow the racks and things look emptier than I expected, and now others of us are coming in, bustling around. They're not packing up right now, just my girlfriend and I, and frankly they're in the way, particularly the guys. I'm moving from place to place looking and I have to keep dodging people. Now I come to the conclusion the stuff is just not here. How can that be? I'm quite confused. | 2JSA, 1FKA, 2JSA | CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 342 | 1985-1997 | 9/12/91 | F | A | I'm in England, visiting I think - or maybe I'm supposed to get married. I've been visiting with some people and a man came - he's somebody we knew and like, but he's rather shy and retiring. Lives in the country, and I'm supposed to go visit him. He has to leave right away, and I'll follow on my motor scooter shortly. He tells me where he lives and how to get there - when I get to the town he'll meet me. He leaves, and I finish up, say goodbye to my friends, and putter off. Rouse is with me, and it's quite a challenge to hold on to her and drive. We leave the city and drive through suburbs, buildings getting smaller and farther apart, more and more green trees and grass. It's very pretty here - the road becomes a lane, winding through tall trees, little hills. It gets to be harder to hold Rouse - she's getting restless. part of me is observing, and wonders if I don't have any more luggage than this (there's a small bag somewhere on the scooter). I think of ways I could be carrying more, like a knapsack or a carrier. I begin to be concerned about how to get where I'm going. I think I stay on this road until I come to the town, but he mentioned 3 towns and I seem to have forgotten which one is the right one. I've been relying on my memory - nothing written down - and that's probably a mistake, now I'm having doubts. We keep on until we come to a place that has some people milling around - some event is going on - and I figure I can go and ask for some help. It turns out to be a dog show, or trials, and these people are rather upper-class, with expensive outdoors-y clothes, a woman wearing jodhpurs, all that. Having dogs around is also pretty tricky with Rouse here. (Part of me wonders why I don't have a carrier for her, and also, how can she be with me instead of in quarantine? - actually that's a little later, after I've left again.) The woman wants to help out but isn't really sure how, since she doesn't know the man I'm going to see and I don't have much information. The men (2 or 3 of them) aren't interested, and wander off. My brother (who's younger than me here) is in a side room of the house, a sort of den/workroom, he's sitting on a couch and a couple of other guys are sitting nearby, one perched on a desk - he's older than my brother, sort of a mentor, and they're having a sort of heart-to-heart talk, very emotional for my brother, he's working through something. I come in and sit down next to him, just becoming aware of what's going on. I feel an empathy for him - I really am fond of him, though we're not usually affectionate - and put my hand up to pat his neck. I rub my hand on the back of his head - he's got a buzz cut, it's real short - and lean over close to him. He puts his arm around me and we hug. I'm pleased to be able to offer him support. I'm supposed to be getting married - I've got on a wedding dress and there are a number of people about, all dressed nice. We're outdoors, at a place where you travel from - either a marina or an airport. There's a plane or boat here, that I'm going to go away on, and I'm up on its top or hull, and it's in sunlight. Most of the others are in shade under the canopy/roof. I'm climbing across the hull - there are clusters of ribbons with streamers decorating the top, in a row, sort of, and I'm collecting some of them. There are big bows, firmly attached, I'm leaving those, they're meant to stay, but I'm picking up smaller ones, that are just stuck down with Scotch tape. | 2JSA, 1MKA, 1FKA, 2JSA, 1ANI | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 343 | 1985-1997 | 9/14/91 | F | A | I wake up and go through the bedroom door into the living room - I realize that someone has broken in and stolen everything. Even the bookcase is gone, the one on the right. I'm stunned - I can't believe it's happened, even while I was here and didn't hear anything at all, I'm scared and feel violated, I've been so stupid to think I was safe, and it's happened again. Gradually I realize I'm still in bed - I don't think I could have gone from there to here and not remembered it, I must be dreaming the robbery. That's quite a relief. I feel a whole lot better. I wish I wouldn't dream about break-ins so often. I get up and go into the living room again, just like I did before, and I see that the bookcase is still there just like it should be [it's not like my real one, it's plain wood with closed sides] - except it's been pulled away from the wall somewhat - it's at an angle. That's weird. I look around and see that everything's here, but I realize the only way for the bookcase to have been moved is for somebody to have moved it. It wasn't me, so that means somebody's been in here. Somebody must have broken in after all - maybe something's been taken and I haven't noticed yet. Oh dear. Now I'm getting nervous. | 1ISA | CO D, AP D, HA D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 344 | 1985-1997 | 10/20/91 | F | A | I'm with a bunch of girls at a house, it's something like a birthday party, we're all talking and laughing. I go outside and over to the landing where I'm to get on a boat with a man (my boss? father? boyfriend?) and a couple of other people, but I've been delayed and they're already pushing off. They're too far off for me to jump on and can't come back now, but I figure I can just step over to the dinghy and get on from that. He and they are waving and shouting to be careful, I'll tip it over, but I think I can do it. It's harder though, because I'm wearing high heels (black pumps). I do manage to get into the thing, just on the side, making it lean over so the far side is in the air, but I wait and it stabilizes. Then I take another step to the center, but that's too much and it goes right over. Just in time I jump back onto the edge of the landing. | 2FSA, 1MKA, 2ISA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 345 | 1985-1997 | 10/26/91 | F | A | I'm downtown, waiting for a bus, and I see my neighbors - they're Mexicans, actually a large family, here's the mother and a couple of daughters. We chat, and some others in the family come along, husband I guess, and other sons & daughters. They were just in the vicinity and are going to give the wife et al a lift home. I seem to be excluded, which I think is pretty tacky. They walk along to where the car is, and after a hesitation I tag along, trying to chat with the younger son, who's somewhat retarded and who I have previously had a sort of amiable relationship with. He's dressed up in a suit, rather unusual, and he's not interested in talking to me - in fact, we stop for a bit and as we're facing each other I can see he's looking at me with real hostility. Very strange. I'm disconcerted and figure I better just go on off my merry way. Elsewhere on the street, further up, I'm walking along with my purse firmly clamped under my arm. (It has a shoulder strap, too, but I also have it pinned like a clutch bag for safety. It's taupe, a soft bag, like that one I gave Michelle but smaller.) I feel a tug on it, and turn around to see what's going on. A sleazy-looking little man in an ill-fitting suit has hold of it - he thought he could just snatch it, apparently, and since I have it firmly he didn't get it. He looks at me menacingly, as if I'd better let go of the thing or I'd be sorry, and I pull back on it again, very indignant. Neither of us makes a sound. I'm not anxious to cause a scene if he'll just let go, maybe he'll think twice about purse-snatching again. He apparently just wants me to be intimidated into letting him have it because he could hurt me - indeed, he starts to reach into his jacket for something, making an expression that's supposed to be warning me - I guess he's got a gun or a knife, but I'm not going for it, not yet anyway. There's lots of people around, he could hardly get away with it - though at the same time I realize he probably could, the way things are today. I'm worried about that sort of thing. Still, I yank on my purse before he can reach whatever it is, and get it free. I hustle on ahead. It goes through my mind that I ought to hold my purse further forward to make it harder for somebody to grab from behind, then I picture myself always carrying my purse (and whatever) clutched tightly to my chest like I'm paranoid, then I picture everybody, all the people going up and down the street, carrying their stuff like that, all holding on for dear life. Ludicrous, really. Oh well. I stop to tell a policeman, who's standing a bit further up the street, what happened, but he's not interested. I go on to this hotel-apartment house that I'm (staying?) in. [It looks like a lot of places I've seen in England - long hallways, old-looking but solid, very well kept, plain, dark wood stair-rails, etc.) This man runs it [he has a bit of Jerry Haynes and Walter Pidgeon in him] and we're trying to hide Elvis Presley. I'm a sort of companion, although there are some others involved in this effort, and we've come to this man as a contact who will help hide Elvis and get him away. The man is rather on the suspicious side himself, though - rather odd, a dapper little guy with a silly little mustache, cryptic, secretive. I'm not comfortable with him. I meet them in "our" room, and put my things down, coat over the back of the couch, etc., and we go down the hall a few yards, up a few steps and around a corner to another room. The man leaves, we're to wait. I think about my purse again after a few minutes, realizing it's just sitting on the back of the couch, very noticeable, and we didn't shut the door - there's nobody about, the place might be deserted except for us, but I'm worried. I know I shouldn't leave Elvis alone, but I get antsy, and after a few more minutes I decide it'll be okay to just dash back to the room and fix it. I look all down the hall - there's nobody to be seen, no sounds - and I go. My purse is there, but as I pick it up it seems to feel different, lighter, like something's missing. I check briefly, but it seems okay - checkbook's there, that would be the biggest thing. Don't know, maybe it's lighter because I had something in it earlier that usually isn't, oh well. I take it back with me to the other room. Elvis isn't there. Uh-oh. I look all over for him - this is a kind of suite, it has a kitchen and living area - an efficiency apartment? No Elvis. The man comes back, some other people too, one of whom is a girlfriend of mine. We discuss the matter, and divide up. Somebody goes out, the man gets on the phone. It's also getting on for dinnertime, and we're cooking something. I figure we want some cinnamon for this dish we've got going, and I think of a plant that's in the back of the room near the window. It has little leaves on it that [either are cinnamon, or taste like it], and I start to pick some off. I look out the window casually, and am surprised to see a dog lying on the grass. What's in back of this (house) is mostly trees, a little bit of yard, and a little railroad track. It's dark, and what light there is, is coming from here through the window. This dog looks funny, and I suddenly see blood on its head and I realize it's been hit (presumably by a train). It looks dead. Yuck. But as I watch, it moves - it was just hurt. It lifts its head up and shifts around, and I now realize it's not even a dog - I guess - maybe it is, but it's beginning to look like an elephant. That's very weird. I'm getting very confused, watching it. I realize that if it's an elephant, it must be a baby, if I mistook it for a dog. Geez. I suppose I'd better tell somebody about this, but I'm not sure I'm not hallucinating either. Wow. I go back into the room and mean to give the leaves to my friend for the pot, but before I do she shows me she found some old cinnamon somewhere and she's all ready to use that. I don't mention my leaves, though I feel rather shot down - it's amazing how "little" I feel, as if I were a little kid who'd been slighted by her parents. So I just poo-poo myself and carry on. We go into the dining room [this place has gotten bigger, you see] and we're talking. There's a dining table lengthwise in the room, a window at the end with filmy drapes, and just the daylight through them, so the room's in shadow. There's a chair or two away from the table, standing between us, having just come in the door, and the space next to the table. On the other side (in that space) is a very large papier-mache black bird. I don't know what it's for - though maybe it's something to do with an upcoming party the man's having - but I look at it briefly, it's rather neat. It moves, and at first I'm surprised but realize it's probably just tipped over, vibrated off balance. But then it moves again, and I'm sure it's done it on purpose. I say, "Stop that" as if it's alive, thinking how silly I sound, and remark to my girlfriend that I'm sure I saw it move. I go around the chair to get in front of it, as it's moved toward the table, and I squat down facing it. When I do, I realize it's actually a cat, not a bird; how could I have mistaken it for a bird? Strange. And it's very cunning, this thing. It doesn't quite look like papier-mache any more, it's got fur - and I notice two extra eyes looking at me, hidden in the black fur above the fake eyes. I stare for a minute, then realize what I'm seeing - by George, it's Elvis! This is a disguise! I tell my girlfriend to come see, and at first she doesn't either - this is really good! I explain to her what this is, and first she says, oh, pshaw, something like that. But then she sees, too, and is also dumbfounded. There are two blue eyes peeping through that fur! I don't know how he got in this outfit that fast, but it sure is a good way to hide. I suspect that the man has something to do with this, but I don't know. | 2JEA, 1FKA, 2JSA, 1MKA | CO D, AN D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 346 | 1985-1997 | 11/4/91 | F | A | I live with my family - we're not the classiest bunch, generally blue-collar, dark curly hair, Dad eats dinner in a T-shirt, etc. I'm in my room doing something, dinner's ready and Mom calls me but I don't care. There's a shower curtain across a bathtub on one side of the room, and there's something large that protrudes from it - maybe something I made, I think I'm an artist - but it's clumsy and not particularly good, ignorable. I'm working at a desk or table on the far side of the room, and my dad yells at me to get up and come to dinner anyway. I bitch and moan but I get up and see that the "thing" has been changed. Now it looks like a big penis, and not a nice clean pink one either. I'm disgusted and outraged. It has to have been my brother that did this. I'm gonna get him for it too. I stomp out to the table and announce that "somebody" has been screwing around in my room, telling my parents "You go look at it - just look at what he's done" - meaning my brother, of course, glaring at him. He laughs and I get madder. I go over and grab him, lifting him up and sinking my teeth into his arm, and I fling him back and forth as hard as I can. I'm fed up with this crap, I'm leaving. I'm gonna walk right out of here and never come back. I pick up my black leather jacket and stalk out. | 1MKA, 1FKA, 1MKA, 2JSA | AN D, AN D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 347 | 1985-1997 | 11/5/91 | F | A | James has got some records and a toy piano for a woman who's coming to visit - an old friend or co-worker. He's very anxious that it should be a surprise, but she shows up (she's tall, good-looking and sophisticated) suddenly and the stuff is out in the open. I spring into action, grab the piano and duck down the hall to the "girls'" room, think about sticking it in the bathtub behind the curtain but put it in the closet. I run into Connie and (?) and try to get them to grab the other stuff but they don't in time, so I go get the records, hoping my dashing around isn't too obvious. She doesn't say anything about it, anyway. Later, I'm on my way to work downtown (I think I'm in a car right now) and I'm going to turn right toward downtown on a street in near Deep Ellum. There's a car in the right lane that I would be pulling in front of to make the turn, but I can see the potholes in that part of the block are very bad, so I stay in the middle lane to clear them before I pull over and turn. I hope the other driver doesn't think nasty things about me. I have to make a stop before I get to work - a police station where I'm dropping in on a detective who's working on a case (embezzlement or something like that) involving a woman who looks like me. He was trying to pin it on me at first, but he knows better now, although he wishes he could just get it solved even if it turns out that it was me. We have a pretty casual relationship, and I'm just checking in with him to see how he's coming along, if he needs me for anything. I see him at a desk in a sort of dark anteroom - there are a number of other inquiring, waiting-in-line types around, but I chat with him while he's doing paperwork. He says they've located her but she eluded them - something about being under something at the bottom of a boat. I wave bye-bye when we're done, he always tells me they may be calling me again, and I go on to work. I'm on a kind of tricycle (or a funny bicycle) - it's black, and I have some trouble getting up a good speed on it. I try standing up and pumping the pedals but it's hard to keep my feet on them. I wish I'd brought my regular bike. I don't want to get there after dark - it's late afternoon now, I'm going into the sunset. | 1MKA, 1FSA, 1MKA, 1MOA, 2JSA | AP 1MKA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 348 | 1985-1997 | 11/20/91 | F | A | I've just come home - we live in this shabby house on a big street, on the corner and there's nothing on the right side of it (as you're facing the house) but a busy street, some empty lots, and maybe a shopping center or a main drag. I've never actually stayed here - we've moved in just recently and I've been away for some reason. They've given me this front room that has a big window on the side and a smaller one on the front, and the only curtains are tired-looking white sheers. The overhead light's very bright, and I find when I start to change clothes that I can't do it practically anywhere in the room - with the sheers you can see the whole room, and there's plenty of traffic outside - I'm really self-conscious. I've already pulled off my top and I'm holding it against me, and don't know what else to do. I really resent this - those slobs of parents of mine shouldn't have done this to me, they just don't care. (My parents are Bonnie and a slovenly, hairy guy in an undershirt.) I try to think of something I can do but can't think of anything. <br />       There are cats here, Tree in particular but also others I don't know well and haven't been here long. One's just died suddenly, it was quite a surprise. Now another one is playing around, sort of jumping up on its hind legs in front of Tree, and gets hit in the head by the ceiling fan. Poor thing - I'm sorry, but I'm really bamboozled now. This is too weird. Later, as I'm looking for something to put over the windows (I think) I'm poking outside and start to take a box, but I look in it first, quickly realizing that's the box we put the dead cat in; I just glance in briefly and move away. | 2JKA, 1FKA, 2ANI, 1ANI | AN D, CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 349 | 1985-1997 | 11/24/91 | F | A | Making drinks for Ted's group at Oak Lawn Library while there's an adult librarians' meeting going on. I have no great aptitude for it but I do all right. After a great deal of setting up and getting organized, I get a round of drinks off and go elsewhere for a while. OL never looked like this - downtown, office-building front, big conference room, outdoor swimming pool, retail store (J'Ann Alvarado's running it today). I go outside - it's a pretty sleazy end of town, and as I turn left and walk a bit I see across the street a guy is holding another guy up off the ground and threatening him. I keep my eyes averted, studiously, but also keep a lookout as I walk. Shortly I decide this isn't what I want to do and turn back. There's another couple of black guys on the street now, and I aim to avoid them. I have to walk right into the street to do this, pretending I meant to do this. They keep maneuvering as though they're going to stand in my way but I get around them and back into the library. It's occurred to me that they might be wanting second drinks, and I've just walked off - after all, I am supposed to be the bartender. But I check in and nobody's called for anything - as a matter of fact the drink-stand has been mostly cleared off, the extra bottles are gone. There's a catering or custodial staff cleaning up their meal, and I hadn't meant for them to do mine as well, but as long as they're doing it, how nice! I mean to ask somebody a question, to ask if Ted's left or how I can find out if I'm done here, but the speaker's still going on at the adult librarians' meeting, and Barbara from the parking booth is in here sitting down - she's not feeling well again, looks awful. I chat for a bit, and actually my back has begun to hurt and is getting worse - lots worse. I complain of it and somebody sympathizes, asks what happened, I say I got it from sitting on my little squashy couch. One of the librarians I know, sitting on the back row, says Daniel here should give me a talk on how to take care of your back. I say I've heard it, thank you, plenty of it, I couldn't stand any more. I'm squatting right now to relieve it, and get up saying I'm gonna go do my back exercises. I'm due at my own branch after this (which is an overtime gig) and I've got to do something about this. Later, I'm retyping the draft of something I'm writing for work - I've made some revisions (with input from Ted) and I'm anxious to get it finished. I type for a while, and get up to do something. Linda takes over, and I realize she doesn't know about an insertion/revision I've made between where I left off and a separate section. I go back and check what she's done and I was right, she just went on typing even though I'd left off with a comma, she didn't even notice. I point out to her that I want this revision in here, she says o dear, I'm sorry. I take over again. Later I take a phone call when I get home - it's dusk. It's a phone company trying to sell me phone service. I tell her I'm satisfied with what I've got, only person here, there are no teenagers here, no, no, no, thank you. | 1MKA, 2MSA, 1MSA, 2MOA, 1FKA, 1ISA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 350 | 1985-1997 | 11/26/91 | F | A | The next-door back yard has huge exotic lettuces growing in a garden - all they have to do is take off a leaf or a part of one to have salad material for a week, and the whole plant's beautiful. I think I'll plant those next year, I'll get her to help me. I'm trying on sweaters in the store where Abby works, but (either there's no dressing room or I don't want to use it - I seem to be in a hurry). She's not thrilled with the idea and we have to keep a lookout for her bosses. I get stuck trying to pull my blouse off over my head and have to unbutton it, which is not fun because the buttonholes are tight. I'm also trying to change or pull off sweaters on the front lawn where you cross over to the next yard, though it's not flat here, there's rocks or an upgrade and bushes, so we're somewhat hidden - I'm talking about how even though I like to wear sweaters in the winter (Abby asked me why I was wanting all these), I certainly know to layer so I can pull some off when I'm too hot. There's a TV family here, getting ready to go somewhere, all wearing coats on the front sidewalk. I notice the stripe trim on the teenage daughter's coat, and think, "You know, they must give her that same coat from wardrobe for consistency." | 1FKA, 2MOA, 1FKA | AN 1FKA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 351 | 1985-1997 | 11/28/91 | F | A | I'm in a hotel sitting on a couch, waiting to meet someone. It's a young woman who wants me (and someone else - a friend, I think) to house-sit for her for a few days. She and a companion come along, we shake hands and trade polite greetings, discuss arrangements, and go on to the house. It's a big place, she's/they've got a lot of money, but it's old, the house is full of antiques and frankly is stuffed full of eccentric things and is somewhat messy. Going on through to her bedroom, we find a similar jumble (by the way, the ceilings are very high), and there are 3 very large framed "things" on the wall. They're not pictures, but more like fabric, light colored things. My friend and I figure they need to be moved - they're liable to fall down anyway. We actually start to lift one off the wall and the woman says [something that indicates we should be leaving them alone, so we quickly put it back]. | 1FSA, 1ISA, 1ISA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 352 | 1985-1997 | 12/3/91 | F | A | I'm at an apartment house, I seem to be moving into a new apartment on the left side of the building upstairs, with Rouse, and a couple of people are helping me out. One of them, a young woman in pants, is going to sit with her for a while downstairs, and I tell her to be very careful, hold on to her tight outside. We go down and around the corner (someone else - another woman - is with us) to a place at the back of the building that's an entrance to [I guess] another apartment. It's a sort of low bubble-thing in a pool with little low bushes and plants around it. It's locked, and the girl with Rouse can't open it. I have keys that the [person whose apartment it is?] gave me, 2 keys on a ring, and I step over to open the "door", but fumble with them and drop them through the bush into the pool. Now somebody's going to have to fish for them... Back upstairs, I'm just getting started with what I'm doing when there's a commotion outside, someone's calling for Rouse, and I know she's got loose after all. Oh, hell - I told her to be careful. I go to the door and open it, and there's Mousie, she dashes right in. Wow. Well, okay, that's great. I step out and shut the door, leaning over the open railing to call downstairs that Rouse is in, and behind me I hear someone say, oh, good, that's a relief, etc. I turn and see a black couple - he's wearing a military uniform - and it seems they've been pressed into service to find Rouse. Shortly other people line up behind them until the stairs are crowded and I can't get down. Next: I'm in a theater in the balcony, just getting to my seat, it looks a lot like the Majestic used to. The Christmas Revels is about to start. There's a woman here, nice-looking, well-groomed, she's a kind of usher but more. A woman onstage sings a song, a really nice bouncy song - she has long blonde hair, wears a conservative ladylike knee-length dress - and after she sings some verses, and we're singing the chorus, she invites the audience to sing verses they know. (I didn't hear her do this, but various people start to sing, including a couple from our section of the balcony.) I think this is why the woman/usher is here, to be a kind of secondary ringmaster and encourage us to join in. A lady across from me offers a comment, she turns out to be English, and I wonder if there are a lot of English people here. I'm on the aisle, and I've set my purse down on the floor next to me. A couple of black women come down close to me - apparently they're looking for their seats, but rather than go any further they sit down on the aisle steps, close to my purse, which I'm not comfortable with. The usher-lady comes over to tell them they can't sit there, they have to go to their seats. [By the way, I'm very excited and thrilled to be here, fairly buzzing inside.] | 1MKA, 1FSA, 1FSA, 1MSA, 2JSA, 1FSA, 1MSA | HA D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 353 | 1985-1997 | 12/5/91 | F | A | I'm in my apartment [similar to this one] - there's a new guy moving in next door, he seems to be rather well off and sophisticated. Dapper-looking; I've been watching him through the window. I'm moving around, doing various chores, and I'm at the right front window, which has blinds on it, but they're partly open, so I can see part of the deck. As I take a look through, I see a man's face looking back at me. I'm shocked, terrified. When I find my voice, I shout, "Go away!" at him, and it comes out strangled. I shout it again, several times. In the back of my mind I'm observing that he doesn't look dangerous - he may have been just crashing out there and not planning to do anything harmful. [I'm not sure what time it is - it's either early morning or twilight, the light's like that.] But still I'm completely thrown, grasping for control, trying to shout loud but can't do it. I yell I'm gonna call 911, and even get the phone, holding it up where he can see. He looks concerned - like this is a disturbing wrinkle. He gets up and moves out of sight. I've punched the numbers, and I hear a voice, but I realize I'm hearing a recording. At the same time I'm moving over toward the door and I see it's unlocked, which is horrifying - how on earth did that happen? The door opens and he comes in. I'm still shouting as loud as I can, which sounds weak and tight and unsatisfying to my ears. I'm still hearing nothing on the phone. He moves toward me and I hit him with something I've picked up. I hit him again and again, he was surprised, and now he's got his arms out defending himself. I put the one thing down and hit him with the phone too. He sits on the floor and slumps over - I think he's unconscious. I go to the window on the side, hoping to call for the man next door. He's right there next to his car [which seems to be upstairs, right next to the window], he's maybe polishing something. He's dressed in a tan suit with a tie - just middleaged, intelligent face, wavy hair. He listens calmly with interest while I choke out my call for help, and he comes around. I'm still near complete hysteria. And still in the back of my mind I'm aware this guy may not have meant any harm - the only hostile thing he's done is come through the door uninvited. But I'm just not able to get back under control. The man comes, and somehow Jenny's there, too (and another woman friend, who's doing something to help but I'm not paying any attention) - maybe he called her, I don't know. I must have said something to her about being sorry I couldn't shout louder, choking up, I feel so helpless, but she says, "That was really pretty good... I bet you shouted half your moons out that time" (or words to that effect). She's referring to astrological moons, the implication being that I've stored/pent up a lot of emotional energy in my moons that needed to be discharged, and this has given me a chance to release some of it. I just barely understand her. I figure I'll ask her to talk about it more later when things are back to normal. | 1MSA, 1MSA | CO D, AP D, CO 1MKA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 354 | 1985-1997 | 12/8/91 | F | A | I'm going back to where I'm staying, along a freeway that's got businesses built up right next to it all the way down. There's no traffic. Nobody's around at all. I was driving, but now I'm walking along a sort of mall that follows the road, on the left side, and I'm stopping in a kind of delicatessen or bakery. The proprietor is a heavyset, swarthy man with a mustache, very friendly, we've been talking a bit and I'm eating a cookie. I'm in England, actually [or somewhere] and it's my last day. I'm on my way back to the house I'm staying in, having visited with some other people I know. Suddenly I feel terribly guilty when I realize I've spent hardly any time with them (the people I'm staying with), I've been off doing other things and we haven't even gotten to know each other. They must think I'm a terrible mooch. I start to leave. I've noticed a brown paper bag on the counter with a bit of grease stain on it - I thought a previous customer must have left it, and now that I'm leaving the man stops me to take it, he thinks it's mine. I tell him it isn't, etc., and he says take it anyway, your bonus, I'd only have to throw it out. I take it and set it on the counter to look in it, saying, maybe so, but it looks like there's a 6-pack of beer here, and I don't drink beer. But I pull the top things out and it's actually (what's left of) a 6-pack of Dr Pepper (little bottles). Then another couple cans of soft drink, and leftovers of something else, some food. Big deal. I don't know, I don't want it either. I'm arriving at a place next to where my group meeting will be - a very strange place, various levels of concrete, but a business, a number of people congregating, a young people's hangout. I park my car on the far side of a spot where you can maybe get 3 cars in, but there may not be room for Jenny's car, she's coming in right after me. I check my wheels and they're right on the edge. The other car is too far over, though. I consider moving mine so that the wheels are right over these brackets along the edge, but decide I can't do it by driving. Maybe I can push it another inch though, and even though the other car is a big heavy clunker, maybe we can all shove it against the wall and Jenny can get in... Upstairs, I meet up with some girls I know, some of whom are in our group, we're chatting. A couple of them are in their underwear. One asks me if she can use my dress for a while, and at first I say yes, and start unbuttoning it. It's a light-blue sort of flimsy cotton dress with a white collar and cuffs, and when I get it unbuttoned (I've moved away from the balcony rail to the back of the hallway, aiming for the ladies' room) I ask her, don't you have something I can put on while you have my dress? And how long will you be? I've got a group meeting in a few minutes. She acts as though I'm being selfish but doesn't give any direct answers, and I'm feeling very exposed. I don't want to stand around in my underwear - even though they are, I'm fatter than them and will be embarrassed. A group of guys we know come along and gather round, just verging on making fun. One of them is Bruce. [Kids are so cruel to each other - a thought I just had as I'm writing this.] I decide I'm not gonna give her my dress and start to button it back up. | 1MOA, 2JKA, 1MKA, 2JSA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 355 | 1985-1997 | 12/15/91 | F | A | I've just gotten married to this wonderful guy who lives in a (little?) suburban house (a sort of 50's-VA-ranch-style). He's got light brown hair, tallish, handsome, friendly, and very sweet. I've only just moved in and still feel very tentative, disoriented. The house has this one big room that he uses as a club on Saturday nights, all the young people come and dance. [We're talking about 20-35 really, age-wise.] We've been getting everything ready, actually he's been running around doing things and I've pitched in where I could. There's also a friend of his - a girl, old friend from school or the neighborhood - helping out, she's very nice, helped me feel welcome. Now people are arriving, quite a lot of them, and there's a lot to do, taking their coats, getting drinks, etc.At some point I've gone to the bathroom, and the door latch wouldn't catch, so I just have to hope nobody walks in. It's a long bathroom with some sort of partition in it, and a worktable. The girlfriend is sitting at it, and my husband apparently starts to come in, because she starts talking to him rather loudly, in such a way as to keep him outside the room, for my benefit. I'm not enjoying all this bustle a lot, and I go off into another part of the house to get away for a while. It's all very new, this place, this town, living with this man, being married - I haven't know him long, we just fell for each other like a ton of bricks and I wanted to be with him so much I'd do anything. Now I'm wondering if I can get used to it, if I fit in. Do I even want to be married? I go across the street and visit with some older neighbors, still feeling confused. After a bit, people start pouring out of the house - first a clump, then a clump, then a stream. They seem to be excited about something, all talking and hurrying. I can't see or hear what's going on so I go out front, and I hear bits of sentences, about fire, and my husband's name. Some of them see me and stop talking, but I also hear, "(he's) dead" [I don't know his name] a time or two. I'm dumbfounded. I look at the house, expecting to see flames burst out of the windows, but all there is, is a big plume of white smoke coming from one area of the house. Thoughts go through my head about how ironic it is to be only just married and now not be again, will everything just go back to normal? But I have to know what's happened - I rush into the house, stumbling through rooms, past overturned furniture, till I come to where he is, and he's alive - there are firemen around, they've got the fire out and a lot of things are wet, including my husband. He looks exhausted, and he's very cold, he's done something heroic that saved the day but now he's all wet and suffering somewhat from shock. The girlfriend has a trench coat over his shoulders that she's trying to keep around him, but it's wet too. When I see him I scream and rush to him - suddenly my doubts are all gone, I know I want to be with him whatever it takes, I love him so much. I pull the coat off of him [and either he's naked, or I get his other clothes off him] and hold him tight, wrapping myself around him tight to give him my body heat. He says something about the fire, how apparently it burned up this little wooden thing he'd bought for me, how ironic that was - we'd been talking about it earlier, we'd seen it in a shop or at a craft fair and I'd loved it - a little box of 2 exotic woods, how unusual it was, and it cost $275. That's very expensive, and of course we said we couldn't afford it, but he'd gotten it for me anyway on the sly. I look around to see what happened to it, but I don't spot it, even though I see some other little nice wood things. | 1MKA, 2JSA, 1FKA, 1MKA, 2JKA | CO D, CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 356 | 1985-1997 | 12/17/91 | F | A | I'm in England with some girls - not close friends, but we're travelling together, and we've set up a weekend on a boat up in Scotland before we go home. We all meet in the office of the agent who's setting it up, and she has a little dog (like a Cocker Spaniel) that's one of those nervous, flighty types that try to be friendly and cute but might bite, and I'm scared of her. We have a while to wait, so we sit around the lounge/living room and I try to stay away from the dog. Part of the time there's this huge yacht or boat maneuvering in its slip (which is now where we are, partly inside the room) and some of the machinery swings around and nearly hits me in the head so I have to duck. I'm not at all sure I'm going to like this. But we go. We drive to the location where the boat is, and this road used to be harder to negotiate - now it's been literally divided, there's a wall between lanes so that you can't get on the wrong road - just for a certain stretch, not all the way... We arrive, and there are some others on this outing with us, including Dan & Lynn and Arnold Schwarzenegger, who's a sort of guide. We know each other a bit, and spend some time talking, and I'm saying at one point that even though he's done a lot of travelling around the world, I may have done almost as much, even if most of it's been to England - after all, this is my 6th time here. We're hugging close together while we're talking and I'm resting my head on his chest. The others are doing various setting-up chores, and shortly I turn and look at Dan, who's gotten some sort of stinging plant attached to his foot, and he's having to get it off very carefully. It's a sort of clinging water cactus. | 2FSA, 1MOA, 1ANI, 1FKA, 1MKA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 357 | 1985-1997 | 12/24/91 | F | A | I'm in London, just arrived - I'm looking for Geoffrey's apartment, he lives here on some kind of business assignment and I'm going to stay with him. It's a funny kind of place, with apartments going off at odd angles. Here's his, and I'm let in. There are others here, visitors, maybe at least one is a roommate, I don't know. They're all very sociable. Geoffrey is somewhat distracted, he's got something on his mind - I'm quite welcome and he's glad to see me, but he can't give me all his attention, so I poke about on my own. There's a television, and I'd like to turn it on (and maybe I do) - I'd like to be like a little kid, just sit on a cushion and watch cartoons, while the grownups do stuff; but maybe that would look pretty dumb on my first day in London - I should be out sightseeing or something. My glasses are filthy. A girl who's sitting on the couch shows me some glasses cleaner she's just been using - there are a lot of things on the coffee table in front of her, and I'm dubious about using Kleenex on my glasses, but then I figure, what the hell, they're so scratched up now, who would care? So I clean my glasses, and one or two other things as well, including the desk. When I've done that, [either she remarks on it or I notice with horror] that the spots are now a lot worse - in fact it looks like the cleaner has been eating away at the finish! There are a lot of bleached-looking spots in the middle. O dear, Geoffrey's not going to be pleased. I stare for a minute, then dash into the kitchen to find some wood polish. Geoffrey's standing next to the sink talking to another girl, and I grab the bottle of Pledge or something that's standing on the counter. I go back and polish the desk with it. Now what I see is these aren't spots on the finish at all, they're inlays or some design. As the polish restores the shine, the design becomes clear. (This is light wood on dark wood, like mahogany.) It's probably a Greek or Roman scene, somebody in a toga, animals maybe - I can't see the whole thing yet. I am a bit confused - I don't think this was visible before; does Geoffrey know about it? Will he like it when he does? Very odd, this visit, so far. | 1MKA, 2JSA, 1FSA, 1FSA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 358 | 1985-1997 | 12/24/91 | F | A | I'm at a big lecture given by this well-known motivational-self-help guy. I'm helping out for a bit here, listening to him when I can. There are a lot of people here, including a lot of LT people. He sounds pretty good, I'm liking what he says, and his manner. There's this girl - one of his regular staff or helpers - who's been part of the crew I'm with, and suddenly she's getting out of hand, dancing around and flouncing her hair (which is reddish-brown, long and shaggy), she's wearing orange tight pants and a midriff top, no shoes, and now she gets really loud, flouncing by me, asking, "Have you ever heard of the Barefoot Lesbian?" And I have no idea what's going on. Meanwhile, the lecturer starts getting more excited and energetic about something, and he's talking about somebody he's calling evil, and starts pounding his palm and raving. I'm thinking, well, this guy sure ain't Brad & Roy after all. | 1MOA, 2JSA, 1FKA, 1MSA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 359 | 1985-1997 | 1/15/92 | F | A | I'm performing - more or less - in a small concert hall/club, it's got regular rows of seats but it's attached to a larger place, entered from a space that's probably a restaurant, regular nightclub, or hotel. In the back of the room there's a small counter with a cash register, and an abbreviated stage in the front. Rolly is going to play piano for the singer, who's black and resembles Catherine [from Preston Royal] (or Oprah Winfrey). She's got on a slinky spangled black dress with long sleeves. I'm in the back of the room; I'm part of the performance [but I don't know what it is I'm doing. Vocal accompaniment? An instrument?] It's almost time for the show to start, and there's some hostility between me and her. It comes down to something she said about my mother, and she thinks I'm prejudiced and I think she's prejudiced. I tell her I won't [do my bit] until she apologizes, and she says she won't sing if I don't. We're still standing there glaring at each other across the room when the crew comes in, and they're in a very good mood, they're playing catch with overgrown vegetables. The stage manager tosses something to me, and I toss it to someone else after a brief pause - I'm confused about the switch in attitudes. Then he brings this gigantic green pepper, that I can't even catch - I have to roll it to somebody, over to the right, and I move toward the right aisle. Then comes a wad of something that I think was spaghetti wrapped in a foil bag, long and rectangular, but it's come loose, and when I catch it I can't lift it up again and toss it, I just fling it but it doesn't go very far. I tell the next guy - a stage hand or somebody - to hold on a second, and I pick it up and wad it back together tighter so I can really throw it. But we have to stop because the audience is coming in and taking their seats. The singer has been just standing there, still pissed off, but now she's walked off. Rolly's been sitting at the piano (in a tux) the whole time, wondering what we're gonna do, and I have the thought that he expects me to handle this. I'm more or less twiddling my thumbs, knowing something's got to be done, but I don't know what. We can't just keep standing here. | 1MKA, 1FPA, 1FKA, 2MOA, 1MSA, 1ISA, 1ISA | CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 360 | 1985-1997 | 1/18/92 | F | A | The apartment is nearly empty - are we moving in or out or what? There've been some others here but I'm alone at the moment, and I can see out the front window an old woman's getting out of her car with a gift package. I don't want to see her - she's a nuisance. I'm not dressed, either, and I grab a robe and try to get myself covered up in case I'm discovered, and when I see she really is making for the stairs I fumble into the back and try to hide under something. Apparently she goes away, though, and my friends come in. We talk about the plants. I still want to know if I can plant the poinsettias, and I think (Mike?) might know, but he's not sure himself. I notice somebody's moved the hanging baskets. Why? Very strange. | 2ISA, 1FSA, 2IKA, 1ISA, 1ISA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 361 | 1985-1997 | 1/19/92 | F | A | I'm living in a place that used to be a store, and trying to rearrange the furniture. I don't have much, and the place is really bare, but the floor isn't flat - there are steps all the way across the room, starting about a third of the way across. The wall on that side is a plate glass window. So I can't put any furniture on that side of the room, and it's discouraging. At first I think there's only the one room, and I won't be able to get my bed in here, but then I think, well, there's the other room, maybe I can make that the bedroom and this can be the living room. I'll see about that. I'm in a little store right before Christmas, it's dark outside, after work, and the store is dim and nearly empty. There are a few other customers poking around, and we're also trying to solve a puzzle for a contest the store owner has every year - a little thing, you solve the puzzle, blow a little whistle to announce that you did it, and you get a little Christmas trinket. I solve it and go look for the whistle but it's not there. I call out to the owner, "Are we supposed to just tell you when we've solved the puzzle, or what?" - he says, yes, that's fine, I'll go get your prize. There's a couple in the store who are really pissed. They think I cheated, and they're grousing to themselves. The owner brings out a bag and empties it out on a counter. I can't tell what it is yet, but it looks very nice, like it came from Neiman's - I figure it's probably something else; but it turns out (the owner says) that it actually is the prize. Oh, boy. Sandie has come by with a friend, and given me a Christmas card she's made from old bits of antique cards. I think it's really nice. There's a part on the front that's incomplete - it used to be a puzzle where you'd take the pieces off and there was another picture underneath. I tell her that it's really swell, she could actually market this. Actually I'm not sure if this is my card from her, or she's just showing me what she'd made. | 2JSA, 1MOA, 2JSA, 1FKA | AP D, AN 1FKA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 362 | 1985-1997 | 2/1/92 | F | A | I'm assisting at a "race" event in which Tree is running. There's a man - a trainer, I guess, who's in charge, and he's giving me instructions to do a "bleeding" - Tree is not in the best shape and needs a lot of tweaking to have a chance of winning. He's old and has been racing a long time - a real trouper. What I'm supposed to do is cut a short slit in his left front leg and then stop the bleeding. Actually in this sort of "garage", near the track, there are lots of Threes up on racks, and I'm supposed to do this to all of them. I'm very hesitant. I do a couple, but I really don't like it. Even though it's a normal thing to do - given that it's just a practice meant to win races or get a slow runner to go faster, I hate to think I'll hurt him, especially if I slip or do it wrong. I go back to the boss and tell him he'll have to do it himself, I can't finish. | 1MKA, 1MOA, 2IKA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 363 | 1985-1997 | 2/28/92 | F | A | I'm just going to the bathroom, I've got a skirt on and I've pulled my pants down, when I hear somebody coming up the steps. I think it must be James, so I leave my pants on the floor and go toward the front door. Before I can get there, it opens - I didn't leave it unlocked, it must have been picked. I yell, Who are you? What do you want? - that sort of thing. He looks at me like I'm a petty annoyance. He looks around like he's deciding what to take or something, and his only response to me is sneering, like, "Go ahead and scream - nobody will hear you." But I do scream, knowing that if Tom hears downstairs he'll come out, and maybe others. I manage to get outside and dash down the steps, screaming, help, help, robber, or something. There are some people about, and it takes a few seconds, but they start to pay attention. The man comes out, startled apparently, and makes as if to run away. I start calling out description - he has light brown curly hair, a hat, baggy brown jacket, etc. He looks confused but still trying to be arrogant, makes some threats like, I'll be back, don't you worry. There's a little crowd gathered now, and they look like they'll be all over him if he tries anything. I'm very grateful but still angry. [He goes off in a vehicle, and apparently I chase him, because I encounter him somewhere later, but that part's gone.] | 1MKA, 1MKA, 2JSA, 2JSA | AN D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 364 | 1985-1997 | 3/6/92 | F | A | I'm delivering a car to a man - something he's just bought, a Lincoln Town Car, very nice. I park it and go down the street to find him - he turns out to be an old guy, he's buying the car for nostalgia - it turns out to be an old one, too, but very nicely restored, in excellent condition. I think he's black, tall, friendly, maybe wearing overalls. I show him the car and he drives off. I'm with another girl who drove another car and we start back for it but I look into a shop first - it's got outdoor gear in it - we're on a sort of mall, outdoors but the shops face on a courtyard of bricks. I've got something from the shop just outside the doors, a quilt or something, like I'm trying it on, when it's time to go on for sure so I leave it on the bench. We go further, there's a group now, and we're looking at this office facade for the Honda headquarters. It's quite a large building, and in the center is a fancy door with panels next to it, all heavy wood, impressive. We're curious, so one of us goes up and opens the door and steps through. Then says, "What a joke! There's nothing over here at all, it's just a door to nothing!" See, the door isn't set in part of the building, as if multiple stories, it's just somewhat more than door-high, maybe 1 story, and then sky. But you can't see there's no roof. And there's a space nearby, a break in the wall, and the one who went through the door steps through that, showing it's just a facade. We all find this curious and funny, so we go through and find a big stadium-like space between office buildings. Hum. To the right we look into a place and find a church, a service going on (Catholic?). We sit down in the balcony and watch for a while, like an audience. I have a candy bar and I keep eating it. Somebody glares at me, and I feel sort of half-guilty, realizing that it's not really usual to be just watching a church service without taking part in it, and I try to pay attention for a while. But we go on, and eventually I'm with just one girl going back to my car; we pass by a lot of cheerleaders practicing on all sides of this "mall"-thing. Very strange, it's getting dark now and the stores are closing up, but here's these groups of 'em every so often, and for some reason spaced out so they sort of ring the place. Hum. Passing by the outdoors-shop again, I see they've closed up and left the "quilt" still on the bench. O dear. I'd like to do something about it, but there doesn't seem anything to do. We go on to the car./We're going to Jenny's house for a meeting. I can see her and her mother rearranging furniture in a little room to accommodate about 8 of us, they set up 2 couches across from each other./I see Jenny in bed with another woman, kissing - I'm surprised, I didn't know Jenny was bisexual./I see another room, full of tables and chairs (in Jenny's house?) and I remark to my friend, "Will you look at this furniture? Look at the legs - they're all alike." All the chairs and tables - it's a sort of parlor, with antiques and chintz, you know the type - have got Queen Anne legs [I didn't use the term till I was writing this], bowed out at the top, in at the bottom, with a foot. Interesting image. I wonder how it happened. | 1MSA, 1FSA, 2JSA, 1ISA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 365 | 1985-1997 | 3/14/92 | F | A | I seem to be having a romance with Rolly. I'm moving in with him, into this nice suburban house, and it's quite an ordeal, bringing my stuff over in bits and pieces. I feel very awkward about it. Rolly was here but he's gone on to work, and there's a couple of others here helping me, and then we're going somewhere together. One helper is Dan, and he's being quick and efficient but I'm slow. We get out the door and they go on to the street, but I stop at the mailbox - it's huge, with many sections like a brochure rack or something, and there's a lot of mail or something, and there's a lot of mail in it. I thumb through it, thinking maybe there's some for me - earlier at my apartment there was no mail and I was surprised - now I don't see how there could be mail for me here yet, but lo and behold, here's something for Tom Jenner delivered here by mistake, maybe my mail's here after all! There's a section for Trisha here - for some reason Rolly lets her have mail sent here when she's travelling, or between places or something. There's a lot of mail here, and the others are impatient, so I leave it and go on. We haven't gotten but a little way when the other guy mentions leaving the burner on under the teakettle. Says when Rolly gets home it might have developed into a fire or something, maybe we should turn it off. Dan says, nah, never mind, all it'll do is burn the bottom off, it's not worth going back for. So we go a few more steps, but I get nervous about it and dash back. While I'm there (this awkward, uncomfortable feeling is growing) I look around and notice how "ordinary" this house is - all neat and well-appointed (it's nicer than Lloyd's house, but likewise has no soul), but I don't want to have to give my place up for this. I observe that I haven't even given notice to the landlord yet, and here I'm moving in - if that doesn't show how reluctant I am, I don't know what does. I'm not as fond of Rolly as all that; I guess I've acted hastily again - I don't want to do this. I make up my mind to go back. I feel better. Still, we've got somewhere to go, me, Dan, and this other guy - I go on out to our vehicle (a van or bus?), and we get on the road. Somewhere at a distance we're stopped, with a large number of other vehicles part way to our destination. It's something like a traffic jam but we're gathered around something, like a kind of building, I guess, and people are milling around, driving motorcycles around, jogging, standing talking in the sun. I've got on rollerblades or something, and I'm very awkward, trying to keep out of people's way. Our other friend takes off around the circuit (on a motorcycle?) (in his underpants? - he's rather stout) and I follow him...I'm riding or driving back to where I'm staying in another town - I'm here on a special trip of some kind, a working trip, and I go somewhere during the day - working, I guess. I can see the skyline in the sunset, and I've just noticed it for real - it's certainly different from home, and I get very homesick, not suddenly, really, I've been feeling sad for a while, not realizing what it was. I wish I could go home now. The branch is remodelling, and they've set up our office cubicles - very colorful, blues and yellows - rather enclosed, with doors. At the other end of the space is a section with some soft carpet and lounge-y furniture, rather juvenile. It's unfinished, but sure looks like a children's play area. I remark on this to (Wayne Gray?), who sheepishly says, well yes, we figured it was the best place for it - out of the way and all. They won't be making that much noise, not all the time anyway... I'm very doubtful. Even if the noise isn't bad, just knowing there's nowhere you can go without being out in public is a nuisance. | 1MKA, 2ISA, 1MKA, 1FKA | CO D, AP D, AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 366 | 1985-1997 | 3/17/92 | F | A | I'm with a group of people who are unrelated but living together as a family. I'm visiting, or I've stopped here on my way somewhere. The weather is getting windy and cloudy, and I'm looking out the window. In the distance I see a fast-moving, whirling black cloud showing behind other clouds, and I think it's a tornado. I call out to the others, and some come look. A man tells me, "That's probably not a tornado - sometimes we get these, they don't touch down." As it moves, I can see that it's up in the air, very big, very black, but no funnel tip. But as I watch suddenly I see there are things flying up in the air toward it - there are little pavilion tents, cows, pigs, wagons, stuff that belongs at a medieval fair. Huh? [Apparently going outside,] I see that a little way off from the house is indeed a fair, but it's kind of mixed up. I'm not sure if I'm seeing a medieval fair, or a Dickens-y or an Alice in Wonderland theme park. Fun, though. (Is this where I was going in the first place?) | 2JSA, 1MSA, 2ANI | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 367 | 1985-1997 | 3/18/92 | F | A | I'm at work, sort of - haven't started yet, and I'm gonna go around to the cafeteria and get some coffee (this is a very big place - the cafeteria has a full staff and everything). There isn't any made, but the guy behind the counter gives me some orange juice. I taste it but don't want it, I'll make some coffee. I'm still a little groggy, though - I pour the coffee grounds into my orange juice. O dear. I look around nonchalantly to see if anybody's looking, and walk casually out. Nobody notices. I decide to go to the doctor that I heard about from some patrons. He's not far away, I'll just pop in while it's still early. I park my car next to the building, it's just a dirt parking lot with trees around, as if it was out in the country, though it's not. The building is old, converted from something. I go in through an unused room into a little waiting room, very homey, old couches, magazines strewn everywhere. There's several other people there, housewives by the look of them, with one or two kids among 'em. I sit on a couch and start to look at this comic or illustrated book I've brought with me - it's Batman or something. The doctor comes out and calls somebody in - he looks nice, shortish, plumpish, smiling, pleasant face. I eventually realize I haven't told anybody I was coming here and it's almost time to start work. I'd better go on back. Frustrating. I go on out to the street. It's several lanes and fast traffic, how am I going to get across? I wait a while and then realize I left my car in the parking lot back there. Good grief, what a dork. Better turn around. | 1MOA, 1MOA, 2JSA, 1ISA | AN D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 368 | 1985-1997 | 3/22/92 | F | A | I'm at a TV studio with a small package that I'm supposed to give to Billy Connolly and the actress who plays his wife on the TV show "Billy". It's white and not wrapped up as usual, but in 2 pieces, and none too neatly. It contains some odd, "found"-looking, old things. I don't know where to find them, and as soon as I step into the building I start seeing people I know - mostly from LT, but not all. I stop and chat from time to time. As I'm talking to someone else, I get squeezed around the neck by someone just coming by, and I lean back and see it's Annarae. I hug back and say hi. (She's wearing a peach sweater, and I seem to think she's got some trouble - we don't talk about it, but I feel sympathetic. I let these people go on and I start back for some offices I passed back a while ago. I have to stop for a minute and squat down to fix my shoe or something, and a weight bears down on my back, driving me to the floor. It's a man - I don't know him but I know who he is, and this is his idea of some sort of joke greeting. A couple of other people come up - they tell me who he is - and say to him how stupid he is, get off her. He doesn't, and I gather my energy and roll over with him, heaving him sideways and flinging him to the floor. I tell him if he doesn't get off I'll roll up like a hedgehog and fling him all over the hallway. Finally he does and I thank the others and go on. By this time I'm thoroughly frazzled. I find a reception desk and a girl there tells me where I can find the actors' manager (or agent or maybe the director, I forget). I go that way and find his office, which is very small and has some wall shelves with books and knickknacks on. I look at a couple while I explain my business and he looks at the package. He says he'll see it gets there for me, I thank him and go. | 1MPA, 1FPA, 2JKA, 1MSA, 1FSA, 1FOA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 369 | 1985-1997 | 3/24/92 | F | A | I'm babysitting or some such for a well-to-do family in (some place like South Africa, at the bottom of a continent a long way from home). The folks have come home, and someone else is here to babysit, the person I was sitting in for. The mother, a middleaged, very prim, stuffy woman, sends me on a trip to the grocery store. It's a pretty fair piece, but easy enough to find, straight down the road, turn (left?) and then you come to the (village?). I set out walking, and Linda is going to come after me shortly on a bicycle. The road is black dirt, quite rutted, through open fields. Connie comes along too, and before long we have to dodge some riders on horseback coming up the road, joyriding, all togged out in habits. They're not exactly polite, blundering through, it's up to us to get out of the way on the side of the road. Way down at the end are some houses, and they're quite nice, though not large and mansion-like, like the house I'm visiting. There are lots of trees here, tropical-looking ones, making it seem quite dark, and it is approaching twilight. I'm thinking the road dead-ends and we'll have to go through people's yards if we go anywhere from here, but by George the road does turn (we go right) and continues to a sort of country general store. Inside there's a youngish guy who's also (the local preacher? schoolteacher?) - you give him your order and he packs it up. We're getting some meat, and there's some question of whether we want the good stuff or the not-so-good stuff. [I can't distinguish whether it's the family getting the first-quality and buying seconds for visitors and servants, or the shopkeeper gets all the good stuff for himself. Now I think it's the former.] I have to go to the bathroom, and I go around to it, a very simple place this is, white clapboard, plain countrified, white inside, like an old schoolroom. He comes in while I'm on the toilet, to get something, but he doesn't look, though I'm thinking this is a tacky and manipulative thing to do. He leaves, and someone (a man, but not necessarily the shopkeeper) just peeks in the door briefly right after. I'm having trouble getting started urinating because of all this. [Woke up here, actually needing to pee.] | 2JSA, 1FSA, 1FKA, 1MKA, 2ANI | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 370 | 1985-1997 | 3/25/92 | F | A | I'm at the downtown library, visiting, looking around at some of my old haunts [it looks nothing like the real thing]. I greet a few people, notice how some things have changed. I run into Gail , and she's showing me some piece of equipment or furniture, and we're talking generally. (It's night, or getting there, not many people about, there's a subdued, quiet atmosphere.) We get to talking about animals, she says somebody we both know has a certain kind of pet, and I'm surprised. She says, oh yeah, and somebody else has this one, and somebody else has that one, etc. - but I don't know why I should tell you all this, you can read it yourself if you want to. She gives me a printout list from a drawer in this cabinet-thing we're looking at. Apparently this was made up for some charity project. I take it and put it in my purse to look at later. We continue talking, and she gives me another list or document, which is definitely not for general circulation. She says, "You know I never gave you this...", and I agree. A bit later, after I'm off on my own again, I'm squatting down by a cabinet and my purse is behind me. Both papers are in it, and I knock it over, and the one about pets falls out. Just then Marsha comes by, and she sees the paper. I say hi, picking up my purse and the paper, trying to make sure the other one isn't visible, without letting her see I'm hiding something. She does see the pets one, though, and takes it. (I think she asks for it and I hand it to her.) She turns away for a minute, and I stick the other one into the cabinet, thinking I'll retrieve it later. But Marsha's very serious when she turns back - she asks where I got this, and I tell her, wondering why she's so disturbed. But she tells me I can get into a lot of trouble for this, asks why I took it, I tell her we were just talking about pets, no big deal, what's the problem? She says this is private information. She thinks for a bit, says probably they'll have me buy pets for the children. I tell her I still don't understand what the problem is, and she opens the printout to show me the title - it says "Mi Panin" something something (the printout is all caps, of course) - it means nothing to me at all. At first I thought the word was "panic" but I can see it's not. I am still mystified by this whole thing - part of me is concerned that I shouldn't get caught with the other paper, I'd really be canned for that, I am really worried. But the pets one - I keep expecting I can just explain about that, but Marsha is really adamant. | 2JSA, 1FKA, 1IKA, 1ISA | CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 371 | 1985-1997 | 4/1/92 | F | A | I'm arriving at my grandparents' house on Vanderbilt - they're out, and I want to use their house for something, though I'm terrified they'll come home while I'm still here. (I haven't seen them or most of the rest of my family in years.) It's still just as it was, and frankly I'm surprised. You'd think they'd have remodelled a bit. I look around downstairs, going into the kitchen from the dining room, and on through, suddenly realizing I haven't seen a microwave - I'm looking for one, because I want to use it - surely they've gotten a microwave, wouldn't somebody at least have given them one by now? I go back through, looking carefully, going from the dining room into the room where the sink is - noticing I'd forgotten that the part where the stove, etc., is has no sink - you have to wash dishes in a separate room. Funny. [Note this is inaccurate from the real house; it's as if you'd put a wall in the real kitchen (and moved the refrigerator), but it was never like that.] But no microwave. Oh, well. I go toward the bathroom, and just as I'm crossing the den, the bathroom door opens and a naked girl starts to come out. She has a towel or something and covers herself up somewhat, very startled, and retreats inside the door. I ask who she is and she says she's a reporter or something, works for the newspaper (?), she's sorry, she was just taking a bath, didn't know anybody would be here, etc. - I notice she doesn't tell me exactly what she's supposed to be doing here. I'm a little afraid, because especially I don't know if she's alone. I start thinking about calling the police, and I try to see inside the bathroom beyond her, though she's holding the door as if to prevent it. I explain who I am, but she doesn't know I barely have a right to be here either, and I hope she doesn't ask. I have a bit of an upper hand but I'm worried that there's something potentially dangerous here, and I'm more and more suspicious that there's a man with her - which would make the situation worse. I jostle the door and make more of an effort to look in, and by George there is a man in there! He's naked, and just in the tub - I see him reflected in the bathroom mirror, trying to keep quiet and out of sight. I'll bet she notices me looking and figures I've seen. My apprehension escalates - I'm gonna go call the cops. I go through to the dining room where the phone is, hoping I can make the call before they come after me. I get the number dialled, and I hear sounds while it's ringing, and just as someone picks it up (I think - I'm not positive because I have one ear listening to the sounds at the door) the doorbell rings. I debate whether to answer it or make the call, and in frustration put the phone down. I answer the door, and it's a whole raft of people, some of whom I recognize, all dressed up in their Sunday-go-to-meetin' clothes. Apparently there's been a wedding or some similar celebration, and the reception/party's being held here. Oh swell. I'm greeted warmly, like I belong here - some of these people are distant relatives, and they're all on a kind of churchy-Sunday high. There are black people here too, and I talk to one woman in a springy flowery dress and hat, with her daughter, similarly dressed - I wonder if I should tell them what's been going on, or are these people somehow dangerous too? Maybe I should just sneak out. I'm feeling confused and frustrated. | 2JKA, 1FSA, 2MOA | CO D, AP D, AP 1FKA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 372 | 1985-1997 | 4/5/92 | F | A | I'm at home - I live with my family - and I'm late for work, I suddenly discover - got about 15 min. and I'm confused. I start to move fast, thinking about my hair, and get deodorant on, then realize I need a shower and shampoo. Damn. I hope I can get by with perfume. This is terrible. I keep looking out the window at the bus stop as if I could run down and catch it if it was in sight. (No way.) In the bathroom, the little cabinet has been moved forward of where it's supposed to be, next to the toilet, against the shelf - I make some snotty remark about slovenly people - the place is a mess anyway, stuff all over the counter, including the boxes of curlers my mom uses. I've got 2 of them in my hair, actually, last night having hoped they would help. I push the cabinet back where it should be, and start to pull the curlers out, wondering what I should do first. | 2JKA, 1FKA | CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 373 | 1985-1997 | 4/11/92 | F | A | I live in a big busy apartment complex. My front door is at the top of a long steep ramp. I decide to go out for something, and as I get to the ground I realize I've left the door open. Uh-oh, the cats'll get out! I turn and look, and by George, there's Rouse on the ramp all right; I shoo her back up and she goes, but there's Alleycat down next to a tree. I call to him - he ducks around some, and I move as if to chase him, but I realize the door's still open. I'd better go on up. There's a guy speaking to me, he wants to ask me something or tell me something, I guess, and I tell him I've got to go in - he says he'll help me get my cat, I say no thanks, and he follows me up - inside the door I say again, I'll just wait, Alleycat will come in on his own, and, lo and behold, just as I turn to the door, there he is. I shut the door behind him. [This guy is somebody I know - and in real life he's somebody well known, like a TV personality, but I don't know him personally.] Later, I'm out in the complex on my way wherever I was going, and I'm walking along under the upstairs walkway. It's started to rain, and up ahead at the end of the walkway I see this heavy gush of dirty water come over the edge. I assume it's a torrential overflow, and don't want to get caught in it, so I wait. After a minute I realize that things haven't changed much up there, you can still see the dark water hanging over the edge - but that's silly, what's wrong here? I look closer, realizing it isn't making a sound any more either. It's stationary. Coming out past it - the rain had after all stopped - I can see - oh my word, it's a dog! This huge English sheepdog that lives upstairs is trying to escape from a bath - he's covered with muddy water and sort of wrapped up in a big brown plastic trash bag or something, and he's tried to jump over the edge and got caught, so he's just hanging there. He's trying to wriggle loose, and does, and hits the ground in a loud wet-bag sploosh. Not far in front of me, and he's wiggling and wagging his huge tail around to get out of the plastic. I get smacked with the tail - in the bag - just before he gets free, but I think I can try to help get him stopped before he runs off, and his owner comes up and is grabbing for him too. VK & I have been at a woman's house on some errand - he needed to make some arrangements with her about a project she's doing with, or for, the library, and I came to help. That having been settled, we're on our way back in our mobile office cubicles. This thing is like 2 little desk-cubicles (like the downtown library has), one behind the other, opening to the left. I step into mine and sit down, then VK gets into his and he starts it up and we drive away like a motor scooter or something - he has a steering wheel. I need to ask him a question, and I step out, not thinking at first that it may go too fast for me to keep up with, but realizing quickly that if I just keep a lively step going, I can stay on a level with VK - I go ahead and check with him [on whatever it was I wanted to know]. | 2ANI, 1MKA, 1ANI | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 374 | 1985-1997 | 4/13/92 | F | A | I live with John Cleese and his wife - they're not my parents but my guardians, and I help them out in the business. We make something and sell it. I've just come in from outside, and there's a guy over by one of the machines trying to get a sample of some stuff, and he's going away leaving the spigot dripping from the ceiling (way up above). I'm looking at it, trying to figure out what to do next - I stick my finger in it to taste it, and it's going faster now, turning into a stream. John Cleese arrives, horrified, saying we've got to fix it - he's talking quietly so as not to disturb the customers or appear upset, but he's pissed. He mutters "cream" as he's turning to go fix it, and I call out - "Uh, it's caramel" after him (the stuff is a stream of caramel rather like the cajeta sauce at A fast food chain). I don't think he hears me... In another room, which is huge like a gym and has some equipment in it, I'm watching John up on a high wire on a bicycle - he's got one of those long poles. He's going to work on some sort of machinery and this is the only way to get to it. | 1MKA, 1FKA, 1MSA, 1ISA | AP 1MKA, AN 1MKA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 375 | 1985-1997 | 4/19/92 | F | A | I'm in some kind of storeroom or lower-level workroom, cinderblock walls, high ceiling, various things stacked in different places, a work-table or desk, maybe a file cabinet or something. I have come in here with a man for some legitimate reason, we work together (more or less - the relationship is not close). But now he's attacked me - another person has come in and they're talking about raping me, but something has to be done first - they're waiting for somebody else. They're very threatening, taunting, mean. Shortly the second one goes out and returns almost immediately with several more men - all of them looking tough and mean, like gangsters. They're engaged in some activity [though I can't identify it - not just a conversation, and while they're quite visible I just can't say what they're doing - the first guy is definitely the boss though, and they look to him rather than paying attention to me - my understanding is that they're all going to rape me] - but for the moment nobody is looking at me, and I see the door's been left open. I'm close enough to it that I can get out without going in front of any of them, so I seize the opportunity and slip out quick, then run as quiet as I can - I make it to the elevator just in time, I don't even know if they're chasing me yet, I just assume they are. I go up to the first floor and get out, running out the door, aiming more or less toward home, across the field. I'm not sure exactly where I'm going, though I think briefly about calling the police and where I can do that. In my path, however, I see the [train] where Rita is at the moment - that'll do it, I'll get her to help. Nobody's in sight chasing me at the moment, so I go around to the door and go in. Rita's there, and we talk. She says I should join her, and we'll go see somebody. After a while the train moves on, and we arrive soon at a place with a house and lots of trees where the owner lives and has invited us to dinner. Very friendly, I'm honored. [The previous incident might have been forgotten, or it's metamorphosed into this one.] It's twilight now, through the trees - a lovely place. I'm a policeman or security cop, rather new, working with my buddies, who I think include Lynn & Peggy, in this little rustic-looking office in a small town or neighborhood. It's night, and not much to do, and we're messing around having fun. Somebody sees the guy who's bringing our paychecks coming down the street, and we quickly dash back in, giggling and joking - I suggest we all sit down on our benches very straight and upright, with straight faces, all in neat rows, so he'll think we're real serious. (We're all rookies, by the way.) We just barely make it, and I'm fumbling to turn on the tape player for the soothing music just as he comes in the door. | 1MSA, 1MSA, 2MSA, 1FKA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 376 | 1985-1997 | 5/19/92 | F | A | I'm at a big house with a big pool behind it, a kind of meeting place/resort - you book into it for parties or suchlike, and I'm here as part of something, but wanting to leave. I've been in the house with my friend, and now I'm just going out past the pool, but lo and behold, down at this end you have to walk into the water on wood steps and things. Crossing to a kind of raft-thing, I then find there's no more steps all the way through this barn-like structure to the outside. I'm at a loss for a while - I'm in shorts, etc., not dressed for swimming, and not keen on it anyway. But I guess I have to, so I get down into it and find I can tread okay, I don't sink in all the way. I go on out and then realize I've left my purse and notebook on the raft. Damn. I have to go back for them, no help for it, so I do. There are a lot more people on it now, and I'm worried for a minute that my purse may not be there, but it is, almost under some others and between a couple of women sitting on each side. I get my things and [go out again? no continuity.] | 1IKA, 2FSA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 377 | 1985-1997 | 5/19/92 | F | A | ...Bopping down the street to music, I have to make a U-turn, and pass a couple of teenage boys on bikes - they look at me carefully to see if they can tell how old I am, very confused. I'm pleased with myself for looking and acting the way I like. I go on into this [cafeteria/bicycle shop?], and I'm talking to a young man at the counter - a family owns this place, and he's the son, there's others here. He responds for a bit, I'm asking where to buy a certain kind of used bike or can I get one repaired, and finally he just doesn't answer, wanders off. I go to his dad at the cash register. I try to tell him about it, and he ignores me too. They all do. I'm amazed and disappointed. I leave feeling incomplete, and go on back to the other place, only now it's late afternoon and there's not many people about, out in this end, a kind of long shed before the watery barn, there are tables - like picnic tables - but they're all wet now. I need to put my stuff down, but I have to look around before I find one that's not all over waterlogged. There are several large trays of leftover food, like party trays, fruit on lettuce, etc., that I'm planning to take along with me when we leave, but now I have the dilemma of how to get them across the water. This is a tough one. I've just been munching on something, a cookie maybe, and still chewing, and this guy comes up - he's one of the two guys who run this place - rather tall, burly, and means business, no nonsense. He says in no uncertain terms that "snack time is over" - meaning a sort of set tea that they have here, and I'm not supposed to be having "snacks" now - never mind that I haven't been here for their "snack time" and I'm eating my own whatsit. I get started organizing the trays to take across, when it suddenly hits me - I don't have to do this, you can just walk from the front of the house down the street past the pool to here. Well, I think, never mind, this way is shorter. [Another place] An old, dark wood church - my boyfriend (My ex?) and I have been roller-skating or something around here, and meant to go back through the back door to the front and outside, but there are some people here now - apparently getting something organized - and we have to be quiet and not attract too much attention. Outside, the street curves downward a lot, it's going to be mucho fun to whiz down. [Another place] I'm with a Mexican lady who has pottery to sell in an outdoor market. I need to pee quite a lot, but can't go to the bathroom, and I figure while she's not looking I can pee in one of the pots and then wipe it out. I try it one place, realize I'm too exposed, and move along a bit to a spot near an archway/alcove and find a big tall pot - I can just be sitting on it instead of squatting. But there's a man just ahead, he may look my way, and while keeping an eye on him I ease the pot off its ledge and down (with me on top of it) among some others sitting on the ground. I realize I must look very embarrassing. | 2MSA, 1MSA, 2JSA, 1MKA | CO D, SD D, CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 378 | 1985-1997 | 5/20/92 | F | A | I'm at the desk in the library, and it's very busy just as we're getting ready to close. The place is huge, and the desk is long - someone else is checking out, and I'm at the money box. There are tables spread out in front of me, people everywhere, sounds of people talking, and plenty of kids. The light is more like a nightclub or something, mostly dark but with spots of light - a sort of overhead darkness [like yoga at Moonslice]. Actually my sense of the place is chaotic. I have the money drawer open, and something is dropped on the floor. I try to catch it, but don't, and then bend or squat to reach it. At the same time a little girl who's been boosted up to sit on the counter is crawling over it and letting herself down on my side. She's definitely in my way, and I tell her not to do that, but here she comes anyway. I've got my right hand in the drawer still, pushing it in as far as I can without closing it, but trying to make it so nobody can reach across the counter into it. I signal to Jenny at the other end of the counter to come get this kid, and she does, trying to be nice, but I'm saying, this is not okay for you to be here, you have to stay on the floor on the other side of the counter. No fooling. As I stand up, feeling more frustrated, there are 3 heads in front of me, 2 or 3 hands reaching across the counter trying to get into the money drawer. Now I get very imperious, and tell these kids - all boys - in no uncertain terms, get off the counter, stand on the floor, and stay there. Jenny (and maybe some others) look at me like I'm being awfully bold, here we are supposed to be nice to all the patrons, but my attitude at the moment is that I'd better let people know who's in charge here. Things are getting out of hand. Actually, the "boy" in the middle turns out to be a man, and he's miffed, because he just wanted change. I tell him that's fine and start counting out some ones, but they're all bad. In fact, there don't seem to be any nice clean flat bills at all - my word, here's one that's positively white! No, it's blank on one side - damn, this has got to be a Xerox copy! Here's another one! This is awful! Who took such bills? I look at another stack - there's quite a lot here - and find a nice bill, but damn! It's from a foreign country! It doesn't look anything like our bills! How could this happen? Here's another one - from the "Bank of Habbakuk" or some such name. O dear. The man is getting impatient, and says he'll take anything - I'm terribly embarrassed to have to tell him I haven't found anything he could spend yet. There's still a lot else going on around me, and suddenly the lights flick on & off, making me even more confused. It's one of our people over at the light switch down at the end of the counter, on the wall. He's just trying to get the patrons' attention, that it's time to leave. But with the light already the way it is, it's very disorienting. We tell him to stop. I'm just horrified at this situation with the money. | 1ISA, 2JSC, 1FKA, 2JSA, 1MSA | AN D, AN 1MKA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 379 | 1985-1997 | 5/20/92 | F | A | I'm taking my car to Belmont Garage to get worked on, early early in the morning, and there's a new guy behind the counter who looks and sounds like Arnold Schwarzenegger. He's got on your basic mechanics' blue shirt and pants, and really doesn't look like him in the face, but everything else about him is a dead ringer - voice, accent, size, muscles, it's quite weird. We talk about the car, and he walks me outside to look at it, and I'm going to go on down the street to have breakfast. While he talks to me, I get very attracted to him, and he's being a little more than polite himself. In fact, he offers to walk along with me, and that's just fine. I'm still marvelling at how I could swear I'm with Arnold, except his face just looks different for the moment - or maybe this is how he "really" looks. Golly. So we walk along, and he even holds my hand, he's getting very attentive, this is swell. We get to the cafe, and I'm meeting some friends, who are around a table already - we'll have to squeeze in with extra chairs. There's some shuffling, me getting 2 chairs, somebody else getting one, taking back, putting in, then we get settled. This is a cute little place, close, chintzed-up, white with blue flowers, captain's chairs, early American, da da. We chat for a bit, and then I get up to do something at the next table, which is empty. [It has something to do with sorting keys or something, that relates to work, but I'm not getting it now - me and somebody else have these things out on the table, when these 2 ladies come along to sit there, and I apologize, clearing them off right away.] | 1MOA, 1MPA, 2ISA, 1FSA | CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 380 | 1985-1997 | 5/20/92 | F | A | I'm at my Mom's, and she's got some shampoo that you don't have to use with water - it's a liquid gel, and you spread it on your hair with your hands, then you have to wipe them on something - and she says this is a good thing to do to keep the cats clean - you just wipe your hands on them. We're in the living room, they're sitting in chairs (like the real ones, but the whole room is a little different) - it's night and the lamps are on, yellow light. | 1FKA, 2ANI | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 381 | 1985-1997 | 5/24/92 | F | A | I'm with a group of people in a large building (house? - not where we live, though), and there's been a major altercation between this one man and another. It's over a misunderstanding but the one guy is distraught and won't listen to anybody, he wants to kill the other guy, and he's tough enough to do it. (He's not especially large, but strong, big shoulders, Italian-looking, sleeves rolled up, sort of Springsteen-Fonzie-like.) All these people are friends, and we want to prevent this, but the first guy goes off to get something [I presume he announces he's going for the sledgehammer which is in another place in the building - in any case, we know that's what he's doing], and I say to the others, "Oh no - if he's going for the hammer, the only one back there is the big one" - meaning there's regular ones, and a huge iron one that won't break, and is far more dangerous than the other kind. We're all frightened, and I wonder if I should go after the guy, but I don't think I could change his mind, and he might hurt me. We're all anxious to keep the other guy protected, but don't quite know how to do that. It's not like we're used to violence. We move to another room, but the first guy catches up with us, and there's a confrontation. Several tense moments pass, and then the violent guy breaks down - he can't do it, drops the hammer and his head, and cries. I feel so sorry for him - and then I feel guilty because I should've gone after him, even if I couldn't stop him, I should have stood with him, let him know he wasn't alone, that I cared that he was hurting. I really feel sad. Later, feeling I need to get out somewhere, I'm taking a thing back to someone who'd left it - it's somewhere between a metal folding chair and a child's wagon - and I'm going along a neighborhood path. It's night, though there are lights somewhere, I can see fine. This path goes along a creek or something, and there's trees and large bushes, which in one place get so thick I can't go on the path any more. I look around, thinking I could go behind this house and then between it and the next one, but it's late, people are probably in bed, they probably wouldn't like hearing a disturbance right by their houses. I decide to get back to the path by cutting through a more open place in the foliage, cutting off the bend. (At some point it is discovered that Whoopi Goldberg's name and address are on this article - I had previously found a different name on the front, and I was taking it to her, but someone pointed out the other name - I have to choose, so I figure I'll carry on as I am, and will find out later if it should go to Whoopi.) | 2JSA, 1MSA, 1ISA, 1ISA | AP 2JKA+D, SD D, AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 382 | 1985-1997 | 5/27/92 | F | A | I'm with somebody at (a/the?) library, looking in a large cabinet for a short cardboard tube that I can put something in - there's lots of cardboard here, being saved for projects, all sizes and colors, including a few tubes, most of which are too long and thin. Here's one, probably a paper-towel roll, flimsier but maybe... I go check it out but it's too short. I find a little Christmas wrapping paper on a couple rolls, and remark to the person I'm with, "Hey, maybe we should use this" - meaning, use it up instead of what she just got new - but we both say, "Nah - leave it," thinking why bother, let's just use all the same paper for everything. While I'm here, a guy comes along that we'd been told was coming to see someone here about the way we do something, or some equipment we use. He's introduced, but he doesn't get that we work here, I think he thinks we're also visitors or library patrons. Well, never mind, it doesn't matter. I go on out, got to get back somewhere, and I'm stepping off the sidewalk when a car comes swooping along and almost hits me. I wave my arms and yell after her, "You almost hit me!" but she doesn't stop - it's a woman with short brown hair in a light blue compact car - and I chase after her a bit, trying to get her to notice what she's doing. She turns around abruptly (the car, I mean) and drives up over the curb onto the sidewalk and toward an opening between a couple of stores. I realize suddenly, she's the one who does that all the time - I hadn't recognized her before. I wish there was a policeman here, wish someone would stop her. I run after her a little more, trying to see her license number, but it's a little out of range. At least maybe she'll think I saw it - but I bet that wouldn't impress her. I go on, carrying my stuff (I've got some bundles or something in my arms, that's why I couldn't run too good), and see across the street a little ahead, Gary Sheets and another friend I'm supposed to catch up with. I start to hurry forward, and about the same time pass by a closed-up storefront restaurant that used to be a chicken place. There's a sign posted that I notice, it says, "(something about fried chicken dinner) - $1.50", and I think how interesting that is, you mean it's been closed up that long? - I thought surely it would've been something since the chicken place. And it sure has been a long time, when was a chicken plate $1.50? Boy. There was something else above that, I hadn't looked at it, but now I'm past. I think I want to see. I should go on, though - but I want to tell Sheets about this, poof. Well, I settle on going back quickly to look, and it says something similar about maybe meat loaf or roast beef. Hokay. I bustle along, and cross the street to catch up with the guys. I tell Sheets about the restaurant, and he's amused too, as I thought he would be. We walk along, beside an open space at least a block in dimension, a sort of park - green grass, a few trees along the perimeter, people walking around. Down at this end there's a line of booths like a fair or carnival might have, all along the short edge and around each corner. (This is at least semi-permanent, no surprise, I'm not taking much notice of it.) Today, I'm seeing something different than usual - above the booths there are large rectangles of color, various patterns, mostly pastels, they look very pretty against the sky. I assume they're just decorative, and I look at them as I go by. (This is on my way home.) As I get closer, though, I realize they're not just painted cloth like banners, they're heavier. I think they're rugs. Wow. My brother and the other guy have drifted away a bit, looking at something, so I have to go back over to them to tell them about this, and we look around for the booth that's selling them. I might just be interested. | 1FKA, 1MSA, 1MOA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 383 | 1985-1997 | 6/6/92 | F | A | I've come to the Business Office for a little visit with Michelle and to bring her a list of some stuff we want to get rid of from the branch. It's actually in the form of a "catalog", with pictures stuck to white pages and some kind of ring binder. I'm trying to interest Michelle casually in some of the stuff to keep, but we joke about it. I look at the rest of the office - it's been changed quite a lot by taking down some of the walls, and now Norma & Marilyn can work together easier, everybody moves around, very open. I'm not going to stay long, so I don't want to get into any conversations with any of the others. [Note: the personnel are accurate, and the overall design of the office.] I go down the back hall to the bathroom and chat with some other folks along the way. There's a stray kitty here, and I think I'd better take him along and take care of him - maybe I'll see if Michelle wants him. But I decide to go back by way of the first floor, and when I get around to the front I realize, whoops, probably I shouldn't go across the public area with a cat, I'd better go back to the staff elevators. [This place is looking more like a hotel than a library - flowered carpet, fancy appointments, etc.] At the elevator we have to wait with some other folks for a while, and I examine the cat's stomach. I had noticed earlier a kind of rough spot, thinking it was a sticker or burr stuck to his fur. It's not, though, it's some kind of hard thing that's burrowed into his skin, and the top of it protrudes. Looks like he'll need to have that removed. The elevator comes, and we squeeze in - it has a glass wall, though there's not much to see outside - there's a person next to me, against the back wall, that looks like a homeless person, and smells a bit. He/she says something to me, but he/she looks and sounds rather sinister and I try to ignore it. By the time we get off, the kitty's missing (in the shuffle) and I have to look for it. ------scene shift------- I'm at Hope's house (Hope and her mom, actually) - they're out and I'm house-sitting; I'm stepping outside to look for the cat on the street (it's night now), and I walk up a bit, nearly out of the light from the sliding glass doors, and I see some movement. There's a cat, but not mine, and a man's shape is moving toward me. As he becomes visible, I see (having been nervous) that he's a neighbor - tall, black, greying, a nice man, though taciturn - and we say hello, I tell him what I'm doing. [I'm not sure about the next part, if my cat shows up or not, but I'm trying to get in the door, or let my cat in, and a number of other cats slip in while I have the door open a crack.] He offers to help me get the other cats out, so we go inside. There's a long table laid with food for guests, and some people start to show up and sit down. Some have brought others with them, and pretty soon the place is bustling with chatty people crowding in. I'm very much disconcerted - some of these are very colorful people, like we found them at a carnival. A few biker types, but all quite friendly. What am I going to do with all these people? Hope comes home and is surprised. [Maybe another scene, I'm fiddling with my tooth - the capped one - and convinced it's loose, I actually pull it loose, I'm horrified.] | 1FKA, 2JKA, 1FKA, 1ANI, 2ISA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 384 | 1985-1997 | 6/7/92 | F | A | My mother's recently married Patrick Duffy - he has an interfering ex-wife. We're sitting at dinner and he talks about her walking in from time to time. Oh, swell - she's probably my age and I have to contend with a stepmother. I'm visiting Jerry Seinfeld at his apartment, and we decide to get married. It's pretty casual - seems like a convenience thing, although underneath we really like each other, but we're both hesitant because we don't know each other very well. He takes my notebook and writes some information about himself on it, birthdate, parents' names, etc. There's someone else here, a friend of his, and he's kind of doubtful too but thinks it's fun. I need to leave, and go out to my car - the apartment is inside a building, the door is heavy. Crossing the courtyard, there's a lawn, like a park, people are playing on it - I pass some kids on my left, then have to skirt a pond. It doesn't have any edges, it soaks out of its perimeters gradually, and the grass around it is spongy and wet. I don't get far enough out because of the kids and my shoes get wet. [I either fall down or stumble] and drop this little mermaid that Jerry gave me into the pond. It's very shallow and clear, and there are a number of ornaments like this already in it - it crosses my mind I might pick up something else besides my own, but I want mine - they're gold, they float, some are like my mermaid in that they have no floating base, but a solid, curved extension with a ball on the end that keeps them balancing. I pick up my own and go on out. There's a glass door, then a bit of parking lot next to the street. My car is parked right next to the wall, and is nearly pinned in by the next car, parked at an angle, and some sort of rack-thing in front. I walk around the car, checking what I can do, taking off my red coat, and when I get back to the other side I decide I can move the rack - but I notice I don't have my coat. There's someone else with me, a sort of companion, and I ask her if she saw what I did with it - maybe I hung it on that rack. She doesn't see it at first, but then finds it. | 1FKA, 1MKA, 1FSA, 1ISA, 2JSA, 1ISA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 385 | 1985-1997 | 6/7/92 | F | A | I'm in Florida, married, in a house with (family?) - Jack Palance is here, and a woman [his wife?], and we've been mentioning the electricity, it's had to be cut off and restored because of some external problem. I pick up the phone to call MasterCard about my balance, but there's no dial tone. Just about the same time Jack plugs the transformer into the wall, and then a tone comes on. He rigged that to disconnect, too, to save trouble and electricity. Not a bad idea. I call, and find that I can't get the information without calling The city - a man at a bank here tells me he can't get access to that information, I'll have to transfer my account to Florida. I'm very concerned about that - what if I get it transferred? That's so permanent, do I want to do that? What if I change my mind? --------- Later, being outside at the beach, I feel confused but optimistic - here I am married to a nice-looking guy, and in a place where everybody goes to the beach, my being fat doesn't seem to matter so much. I picture myself having a ball playing with people in the water, relaxing in the sun. I wonder what it would be like to want to stay in Florida. I'm in a store, something like a grocery store, and we're closing for the day. Harry Anderson is my boss, but we're quite close. There's some kind of apprehension, like someone's liable to break in and we have to be real careful to lock up. I try a side door that usually isn't opened, and by George it is. I call to Harry to come lock it, and he doesn't come right away, he thinks I'm mistaken, and I have to urge him. I'm quite concerned, keep watching out. | 1MKA, 1FSA, 1MSA, 1MKA, 1MKA | AP D, CO D, AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 386 | 1985-1997 | 6/8/92 | F | A | I'm with Dan & Lynn and Peggy & James at some kind of fair - seems to be on city streets - there's a lot of activity, and you can sit down and watch programs from time to time. We've been doing that, and I've been keeping an eye on this model of a temple (some famous ancient, maybe Biblical temple), which was flooded and I guess destroyed, which was its claim to fame. [I'm not sure if we're all watching this or if I'm watching it on the side - I have bought the model for myself, and I think it's the latter.] The water comes up and rushes through, knocking things down and so on, then recedes, how interesting. The program ends, and we'll be getting up to go elsewhere, but I'd better put this in the car or else it'll get lost, stolen, or thrown out. The car's just here, and I start to deal with it, but the others are going away - they're not even paying any attention to me, except James, who is looking like he can't figure out what to do, to stay or go, to protest or not. I'm aghast. How can they just walk off and leave me? I stand in frustration, what can I do here? They'll be swallowed up by the crowd in a minute, how will I ever catch up to them? Do I even want to? I'm so furious I'd just be - prefer to be - enraged at them. But apparently they're oblivious anyway. Damn... There's a cop or security guard nearby who offers to help, and we get to talking [much like me & Russ at the Jewelry Workshop], which makes me feel better. We go nearby to his house, while he picks up something, and we're gonna catch a movie on TV. I've got a carton of Cookie Dough ice cream, and eat some while he's in the other room. When he comes back I offer him some, saying, "Have you ever tasted this?" And then when I'm looking away, he eats all the rest of it. More frustration. I'm just fed up. | 2FKA, 1MKA, 2JSA, 1MOA, 1MKA | CO D, AN D, HA D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 387 | 1985-1997 | 6/24/92 | F | A | I'm in a foreign country, maybe Eastern Europe, with a group of people - we're here for a LT, this country's first. Right now we're watching a movie, maybe in a bus. At least it's a narrow and short place, not a theatre at all, and we're sitting close together. I've been out, and come back to find my order has arrived - Elsa is keeping it for me - there's a big bowl of hot fudge, a wide shallow bowl [abt. 4" x 14"], it's wonderful, dark, bubbly, still hot; chocolate-chunk cookies [big ones like you get at The supermarket], I can dunk them in the hot fudge; and some other chocolate stuff. It's an awful lot, and looks extremely self-indulgent. I can share, but still I wonder what the others must think of this pile of chocolate... Later, we go to our hotel and have dinner - the rest of the chocolate stuff comes with me - in a dining room with a long table. I get up to go to the bathroom, my room is nearby; the room and bathroom are kind of bare, cheapish, sort of what you might expect in a poor country. While I'm there, the toilet slides out from next to the sink and outside, down the street. This is not especially uncommon, although it is disconcerting. I think I should put it back where it was. I'm now next to a park, on a broad street. There's not much traffic, but people I know are nearby, and I ought to go along with them, but I tell them I'm going to push the toilet back into my room... At some point I'm concerned about Tree's food, where I can get the right kind of kidney food that he needs. I only brought one can with me and I don't think that'll last. | 2JSA, 1FKA, 2JKA, 1MKA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 388 | 1985-1997 | 6/27/92 | F | A | I'm out on my bicycle, riding with a black man [I know him, but I think I work with him, not a friend socially] - we're in a part of town like maybe the Love Field area, or some parts of Oak town - away from downtown, run down. We're crossing a big intersection at a light, there are stores set back from the street. Another man (also black) on a bicycle passes us going the other way, and as he comes to the intersection he raises his arm high in the air, hand straight. So does the man I'm with. I'm guessing that it's some sort of bicycle road signal, indicating that you're going to cross the intersection - I never heard of it before. Hmm. But they keep their arms up as they pass each other, and when they're close to, they acknowledge each other, then drop their arms after they've passed. Oh - I guess it was a black salute of some kind. Hmm. Just at the other side of the intersection, another vehicle turns out of the parking lot to our left (it's on a rise) and passes us crossing the street, and its driver gives the same salute. This thing is a kind of pedal cart, the driver at the back, a passenger sitting on a chair, sideways - it's a woman, white, the driver's a black man - on a platform. Looks a little clumsy, but they seem quite comfortable with it. Hmm. | 1MKA, 1MSA, 1FSA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 389 | 1985-1997 | 6/27/92 | F | A | I'm with 3 friends, another girl and a couple of boys. We're out just sort of strolling around a park, noplace special to get to, but more or less aiming for the other side. There's lots of dense green stuff to poke through, little paths, rises, a creek. As we explore, one of the boys - he looks like Wil Wheaton - is telling us about this movie he was in, that this reminds him of. He'd been knocked out or something, and was face up floating in the creek as it went under a (culvert? is that right?), and leaves & vines floated over him and tangled around his throat as he went under, and inside the culvert he woke up, choking. As he tells this, we all see it, as if in flashback, from overhead. He comes out the other side pulling the vines from his neck, struggling to survive. Very dramatic. He likes to tell us about his exploits. We come out of the woods and there's a building here, we go into it - it's a place we're familiar with but don't go into much. [It could be a library - there are aisles of some kind, very high, maybe floor-to-ceiling stacks, so that you can wander around in them.] We're looking around, together and separately, it's dim (the place is not open), and spooky enough to be fun. [Some event happens, but apparently not onstage, to produce the next bit.] The others are making their way toward the other exit, and I'm hanging back a bit, still exploring, and as I turn a corner I see something startling - the other boy is standing in one of the aisles behind our group [though actually he's looking like a man in a suit]. He stands still, looking away from me, and seems quite grim. There's something wrong here. Moving around quietly and carefully, I see more of them - replicas of my friend - and also some others. I realize that what must have happened is [this event I mentioned] and there are duplicates being created - but they're all replicas of the dark side of this person, none of the nice parts. This is very alarming. We've got to get out of here - I get back to the others as fast as I can and tell them, and we go out - I think if we get him out this thing that's happening will stop. We come out to a part of the park that's sculptured and open, a walkway and water running through a man-made concrete bed alongside, flower beds, etc. It's sunny out. [Out here, there's something about somebody - the boy? being in the water, but it's gone.] | 2IKA, 1FKA, 1MSA, 1MSA | CO D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 390 | 1985-1997 | 6/27/92 | F | A | I'm with my father - a priest - in his office in a church (or some such place), a nice old building, lots of dark wood and heavy furniture. I work with him, and we're getting ready to leave for another church, not far away, even older. [Scene changes.] The new place looks medieval, and we're in a dim stone room with lamps. There's a woman here, must be some kind of administrator, here to work with us, getting things organized. She's got on this fabulous headdress, it's somewhat Slavic in shape, hard side pieces that extend round to the back and continue in a long sort of tail. It's red, with heavy beading, wonderful. I tell her I like it, and she agrees, she just had to have it, got it just recently (at a fair or something). She's blonde, rather fleshy, friendly but not especially jolly. My father is somewhat like Andy Griffith... We are going to see my brother in the hospital [he's not My brother]. It's quite a complicated place, high security - not for casual patients, these are also psychiatric patients, and convicts. My brother did something, and he's been here for treatment. They've put us in this room that you wait in off the elevator. There's nothing here but some lounge-type furniture, and nobody tells us anything. Sometimes we hear announcements over a loudspeaker. My father goes away to do something - we've been waiting a long time and we're getting impatient. I wait longer and longer, and finally pick up the wall phone and start to ask them to investigate. But just then my brother is brought in. We hug and kiss, it's very emotional, he's very lonely. He looks okay, not great, but getting better, but so sad. He keeps kissing and touching me, and I'm a little uncomfortable with it - I wonder if not being around women for so long he's also wanting to touch me just because I'm a woman. | 1MKA, 1FOA, 1MKA | AP D, SD 1MKA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 391 | 1985-1997 | 6/30/92 | F | A | I'm on my way somewhere, driving a car with a female passenger - she's not a friend, and I'm thinking she's not comfortable with my driving - this road has a lot of curves and the lanes aren't marked (there's no paving, though it's good and solid, and smooth - and it's through town, sorta like Oak town), and possibly I'm too close to the wall sometimes - there's a wall median divider, and we're driving on the left of it. I'm just waiting for her to bitch about it, but trying to stay out so she won't get nervous. I'm also looking around at the cute little houses that line the road, and thinking it would be nice to live in one of them - there's a grocery store right down the street, very convenient, there are lots of nice things about it - but it is a very busy street, hmm, why would I be thinking about that anyway? Not my kind of place... Later, I'm at a going-away party for a fellow employee, in a restaurant-bar. It's fairly dark, and there aren't many people I know here, and I don't feel like mingling much. I'm sitting at the bar looking at a magazine. There's an article in series about this young man who's had a number of turns in his life. The first piece is headed, "Jail 1", and chronicles what led up to him doing something that he went to prison for and how that affected him. The text goes down the left half of the page, picture on the right. He's nice-looking, dark hair, sort of a country-boy type, but apparently a very nice guy who made a few mistakes. The next piece, "Jail 2", comes after another article or 2, and tells the next story, and then the 3rd piece tells about him having a sex change. There are pictures here, too, but also there's a TV nearby - must be up behind the bar because I'm looking up - and there's her, and her girlfriend on TV, probably videotape. There's a closeup, and you can see it's him and all, and I'm thinking he doesn't make a very good-looking woman. Oh, well. There's a woman sitting next to me, middleaged, she's looking over my shoulder and making the occasional lame remark like, "Why would anybody do such a thing?" I decide it's time to mosey on off, and take a few steps toward the door, when I'm grabbed by this cheerful young woman with somebody else in tow, she says, "How are you? You really look good, come with me", dah dah dah. I think she must be somewhat drunk, as a number of people are getting. She grabs my waist and tugs me over to a seated group and proceeds to chat with them too - "Look who I found!" - the thing is, I don't know these people. I think she doesn't realize that, and the others must assume she does. Oh my. I'm trying to think of a way to extricate myself. | 1FSA, 1MKA, 2JSA, 1FKA | null |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 392 | 1985-1997 | 7/1/92 | F | A | I'm trying to get a truck to start; I'm at a small parking lot by the side of a dirt road, with a short open fence. There are some other people around, none of them are helping me. I need to push it to get it to start, but there's a slight upgrade in the road and I think I'm stuck. I wish somebody would come along and push it for me - it would take a truck, I'm picturing somebody in a U-Haul, rented, maybe they'd think they shouldn't do it. I'm in the Philippines, Manila; on some kind of business trip, but Dad & my stepmother live here and I wonder if I should go visit them. Right now I'm out wandering, sort of sightseeing. There's not much to see, around here anyway - I'm staying in an area near the airport (or train station) and there's mostly hotels and American-style restaurants, so I'm looking for real Filipino stuff. I've been with some other people but they've taken the bus back to the hotel, they weren't keen on this area, it's not exactly nice. I'm concerned myself - I keep my eyes open for dangerous-looking people. I'm thinking about something to eat, and there are food places around, not American-style, which sounds interesting. I go up to the counter of one stand and talk to the man there, looking at his menu. He's pretty nice to me, we talk about the area and he explains some things on the menu, I start to order something, and suddenly realize I don't have any cash on me. Can he take traveller's checks? He says yes, but by now I decide I'd better go back to the hotel - I'm not sure about this food, don't know if it would agree with me. While we're talking, though, the bus has come through the area - right off the street, yet - and gone. I'll have a wait. I go along, past some office buildings, and run into a disturbance. A lot of people are running away from something, and there's some shouting and sirens - I learn that there's a huge fire just on the other side of this block, behind these buildings. I figure I'd better get away too, so I turn and go, noticing the smoke roiling up behind the building, and the tops of flames, or flickering firelight. I can see, through gaps between buildings, the vehicles and people moving over there - there's music coming from over there, too, and I recognize the tune from a network news show. They must have a crew there. Good grief. Must be some fire to have all these news people there. I go on, not far away, to Dad & My stepmother's house. I knock, and they answer - surprised to see me, but only because it's unexpected. I go in and chat away, about the fire and the news people - I mention the music - I follow Dad down the hall into the den. There's a tired-looking orange square-cushioned couch. I ask if I can stay the night; I don't think I'll be able to get back with all the commotion. They say okay, why not? I figure the couch won't be all that comfortable, but what the hell. (Maybe I should call the hotel and tell them I won't be using the room tonight, and they won't charge me for it - but no, my luggage is still there, never mind.) | 2JSA, 1FKA, 2JSA, 1MSA, 2JSA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 393 | 1985-1997 | 7/4/92 | F | A | I run this "castle" sort of place. I've got a problem with this guy - a sort of wizard - who wants to take over, I've heard of his plot with another guy, and I'm sort of at a loss right now. I'm looking for Michael Keaton, who's staying here, I like him a lot and he helps me do things, he's very clever, though elusive when it comes to a relationship. I don't really know where I stand with him. I go down where he stays but he's not there. I'm quite frustrated, I need his advice. I see other people going about their business, and I wonder if they know how confused I am, and how they think of me as an administrator. Somewhere I find this note. It's from the housekeeper, she's a nice round ruddy-cheeked woman - she says that she didn't want to tell tales, but somebody is skimming off something and pocketing the proceeds, and she thought I should know. Well, I'm glad she wrote me this note, but it's a couple of years old. It must have been lost all this time. Still, I'll do some investigating. While I'm reading this, I'm eating an ice-cream cone (it's a pretty big scoop on a little bitty cone) and trying to climb a wall. I need to haul myself over the top, and I'm hesitant to do it with the ice-cream cone. After a couple of false starts I do it. It's okay. I go on to cross this sort of pond thing next to some bleacher seats (concrete or stone, I think), and finally see Michael across the way, going the opposite direction. I call to him, saying I need to see him. It's taken him some effort (I think magic was involved) to get where he is without getting wet, and he's not too keen on coming back across, but he does - partly from friendship, but also because I am in charge. I tell him I need his help, he says okay. | 1MKA, 1MSA, 1FKA, 1ISA | CO D, HA D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 394 | 1985-1997 | 7/21/92 | F | A | I'm with a group of men and women - 3 or 4 of each, all middleaged or older - and we've just come from some seminar or something, it's late, and we're visiting at the house that one of the women - her name is Louise or maybe Betty - lives in, a very nice, small, comfortable house, she's been here for many years, I think she's a widow. We're all very friendly, we're having a good time together. Except for Rita - she's unhappy [for some reason I've forgotten - might have an element of jealousy] with Louise/Betty and decides she'd better leave. I walk with her through the kitchen to the front door, feeling awkward, wishing I could help. She walks on out to her car - I think one or more of the men came with us, and I let them go on ahead back to the living room. I hang back in the hallway - it's rather cluttered, more like a back hallway than a front hallway, but it does lead to the street. Near the door to the kitchen, I notice a folded note on the floor, and I pick it up. Rita must have dropped it. I open it and glance at it; it seems to be for Louise/Betty - I wonder if it's about their problem. I think maybe I ought to give it to Louise/Betty, but then Rita hadn't done it herself, maybe that would be wrong. I go back through the kitchen and decide I'd better get rid of it. I wad it up in my hand as unobtrusively as I can - I could be seen from the living room if anyone was looking this way - and casually toss it in the trash can that's in an open pantry or alcove right before the door, just as I go on through. | 2JSA, 1FKA, 1MSA | AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 395 | 1985-1997 | 7/22/92 | F | A | I'm visiting Karen, who's at home with her little boy (who is about 2 instead of a baby). Her husband comes in unexpectedly - he is a very unpleasant man, and Karen is very uncomfortable - you could say she even looks scared, and it's apparently because I'm there - she's not supposed to have visitors, it seems, and he is very disapproving. I feel intimidated myself, and figure I'd better go. Outside, I see some of Peter's sculpture - he's an artist - at the entrance to the house. One of them, on the left, is a sort of spire, or extremely large spike. It's metal, dark, pointed at the top, wider at the bottom, and there's something at the bottom that looks like a small dog lying on its back with its head away from me and its feet up, almost as if it were impaled on the spike. Another, smaller dog, a puppy, is standing in front of it (and the not dissimilar piece next to it), barking. This whole thing is up on a ledge or platform almost at eye level. As I look at the first piece, I am more and more disconcerted - it really does look real - it couldn't be, could it? I stare at it, fascinated. Then suddenly it moves, kicks its back legs up as if it was trying to pull free, to get up. It is real! Oh hell. Oh, hell. I don't want to believe this. He's actually impaled a dog on this thing, because he thinks it's art. Oh, hell. It goes through my mind to rescue it, but how in the world could I possibly do anything that would help? I know it must be bleeding to death, why in the world is it still alive anyway? I don't want to look around at the other side, on my right, that's been obscured by the puppy - but I do, and sure enough, yes, there's blood gushing out from its side, hell, there's nothing I can do, I've got to get away from here. [Either I go back in and tell Karen about this, Peter being gone again, and she decides to come with me, or on my way to the car she catches up, with her little boy, knowing she has to get away herself, and protect her child from this man, who's been getting increasingly more dangerous.] | 1FKA, 1MSC, 1MKA, 1ANI | AP 1MKA, CO D, AP D |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 396 | 1985-1997 | 7/28/92 | F | A | I'm going to the toilet in this open space - the building is where I work, I think - the toilet is located at the end of a wall between two areas, and faces some seats. There's a couple of women sitting there, and there's a man sitting up on the wall - I think in an opening of some sort, he sits up there to oversee whatever goes on below, like a lifeguard. He's chatting with the women some. I've got a gas problem, and am very uncomfortable. I sit and try to let it out very slowly and not make any noise, but it takes a long time and they're noticing and snickering. There's also a man in the space behind me, and he notices too, but he's trying to be polite and not look. The guy on the perch says something aloud to the women, and I really feel angry and humiliated. I glare up at him, and say "Fuck you" - muttering, not wanting to start an argument. But he gets angry, jumps up and climbs down. He comes over to me on the toilet, waggles his fingers and says, "Come with me." He's playing offended, and apparently means to turn me in for being insolent or insubordinate. I get up and walk with him, saying, "I wonder if you've really thought about this." I'm thinking, even if he reports me to somebody, I've got a very good case here, he's the one who ridiculed me, in front of others - even the man behind me was laughing. I'm picturing myself defending in front of somebody, and them realizing what a jerk he is, and they'll probably turn on him. I ask him where we're going, and he says, "Oh, about 10 floors up" - he's very supercilious. I realize he means to report me to the director. Oh, please. This is out of hand. I stop, and sharply say, "Look here, you stop - I am not going to be taken to the principal's office like some schoolgirl. This is ridiculous." | 2FSA, 1MSA, 1MSA, 1MOA, 1MOA | AN D, AP D, AN 1MKA |
alta | Alta: a detailed dreamer | 397 | 1985-1997 | 7/29/92 | F | A | I am in a garage, having my car worked on - something to do with the wheels, or rotating the tires. I'm chatting with the mechanics, I've seen them before, though not to work on my car, I think. We're casual friends, and this is a friendly sort of little neighborhood garage. The burlier guy says it'll be $89.95 to do the work. I roll my eyes and say, fine, ok, at least it isn't any more than that, all the other work I've had done lately has been a lot more, this isn't so bad. I'm feeling pretty lively, strutting around in my new black motorcycle boots and jeans. The other mechanic is noticing, and points at my boots to the other one, a sort of elbow-in-the-ribs look. I think I look spiffy. | 2MKA, 1MOA | null |