Tons of dreams
Maybe it's the sunshine in the morning.
Morning of Jan. 22:
Vacationing with Angie in California. Keep meaning to sightsee but I'm kind of stuck in bed. Laziness consumes me.
Grandpa (who's been dead for years in waking life) is in the hospital and I decide to go to his apartment and clean for him. It's a mess, stuff piled all over the floor, but it doesn't look too hard to sort out. Lots of tools everywhere. Stuff to make those yarn-covered hangers he used to make. I find a brown paper bag of new knitted slippers, and I put on a pair. Somebody knocks on the door, and it's this weird gangly guy who wants to know why I'm in Gus's apartment. I explain, and start talking about how big his hands are. The guy puts out his hand and says, not like mine, and I take it and look at it for a second. It's flabby, white and practically boneless, with long fingers, and he has a sixth finger on each hand - an extra pinky sticking out of the original pinky.
I say goodbye to him and turn around to find a mob of people have entered. They're here to "help". Two-year-old Dana (who is actually 21) runs away with spools of wire, and I chase her to get them from her. She runs into some connected apartments - oops.
Morning of Jan. 23:
Going through some library/airport thing with Dan. There's some Chinese New Year celebration going on and there's gorgeous blossom-patterned rice paper in pink and blue and other pretty colors plastered all over the arches in the hallways. Kids are doing little projects everywhere.
Dan and I see this waterfall fountain outside, which I kind of fall into as I run my fingers through the streams, which are woven and bent like lucky bamboo plants. I say to Dan as he crouches down, "That was probably illegal, wasn't it?" and he replies yes.
I think we're trying to avoid the police and Dan ends up in some colorful kawaii character costume. He goes bouncing down the hallway and I lose him. I go wandering past the escalators and finally find him. He apologizes and I say "No problem, I knew I'd find you."
This morning, Jan. 24:
Boy acting out of line - we doing puppets or something. I tell him that he needs to stop whatever he's doing and he runs to Mommy. We talk about it after church. The mom is completely ignorant of what her boy is like. I'm being accused of being mean, and I explain it all. The parents just kind of walk away.
On my way to my parents' house after church. Mom gives me a laminated business card with directions; they're in Portland now someplace. I park and start to walk, only to find upon reconsulting the map that this is only the beginning of my journey and I have many miles more to go; I need to get back in my car and drive some more. I keep trying to find it but find myself thwarted in myriads of ways. I have to cross the street to avoid sidewalk construction and get all turned around; I ask directions but get all mixed up; I end up on a bus that starts heading the wrong direction so I finally get off it and ask the driver what I owe him. He keeps hemming and hawing and finally says a dime. Geez.
Things are super interesting in this part of town, however. Lots of cool stuff to look at. I'm dressed in some prissy little thing and I'm trying to leave this cafe, so I head toward the exit, in front of which some aging punk chick is seated. She begrudgingly scoots over and as I apologize, she says sarcastically, "Oh, pardon me, your majesty!" What the heck.
I keep looking in my purse and checking my phone and the directions, and my items keep accumulating and crowding in there. It's annoying. Right before I wake up, it's morning of "the next day" and I've still been wandering, I have a set of keys in each pocket, and at least 8 electronic doodads I'm trying to find space for in my purse. As I'm rearranging stuff, I stick some things, including a rose, into my teeth, and I see these arresting-looking people-statues. I wink at them and they beam.
Morning of Jan. 22:
Vacationing with Angie in California. Keep meaning to sightsee but I'm kind of stuck in bed. Laziness consumes me.
Grandpa (who's been dead for years in waking life) is in the hospital and I decide to go to his apartment and clean for him. It's a mess, stuff piled all over the floor, but it doesn't look too hard to sort out. Lots of tools everywhere. Stuff to make those yarn-covered hangers he used to make. I find a brown paper bag of new knitted slippers, and I put on a pair. Somebody knocks on the door, and it's this weird gangly guy who wants to know why I'm in Gus's apartment. I explain, and start talking about how big his hands are. The guy puts out his hand and says, not like mine, and I take it and look at it for a second. It's flabby, white and practically boneless, with long fingers, and he has a sixth finger on each hand - an extra pinky sticking out of the original pinky.
I say goodbye to him and turn around to find a mob of people have entered. They're here to "help". Two-year-old Dana (who is actually 21) runs away with spools of wire, and I chase her to get them from her. She runs into some connected apartments - oops.
Morning of Jan. 23:
Going through some library/airport thing with Dan. There's some Chinese New Year celebration going on and there's gorgeous blossom-patterned rice paper in pink and blue and other pretty colors plastered all over the arches in the hallways. Kids are doing little projects everywhere.
Dan and I see this waterfall fountain outside, which I kind of fall into as I run my fingers through the streams, which are woven and bent like lucky bamboo plants. I say to Dan as he crouches down, "That was probably illegal, wasn't it?" and he replies yes.
I think we're trying to avoid the police and Dan ends up in some colorful kawaii character costume. He goes bouncing down the hallway and I lose him. I go wandering past the escalators and finally find him. He apologizes and I say "No problem, I knew I'd find you."
This morning, Jan. 24:
Boy acting out of line - we doing puppets or something. I tell him that he needs to stop whatever he's doing and he runs to Mommy. We talk about it after church. The mom is completely ignorant of what her boy is like. I'm being accused of being mean, and I explain it all. The parents just kind of walk away.
On my way to my parents' house after church. Mom gives me a laminated business card with directions; they're in Portland now someplace. I park and start to walk, only to find upon reconsulting the map that this is only the beginning of my journey and I have many miles more to go; I need to get back in my car and drive some more. I keep trying to find it but find myself thwarted in myriads of ways. I have to cross the street to avoid sidewalk construction and get all turned around; I ask directions but get all mixed up; I end up on a bus that starts heading the wrong direction so I finally get off it and ask the driver what I owe him. He keeps hemming and hawing and finally says a dime. Geez.
Things are super interesting in this part of town, however. Lots of cool stuff to look at. I'm dressed in some prissy little thing and I'm trying to leave this cafe, so I head toward the exit, in front of which some aging punk chick is seated. She begrudgingly scoots over and as I apologize, she says sarcastically, "Oh, pardon me, your majesty!" What the heck.
I keep looking in my purse and checking my phone and the directions, and my items keep accumulating and crowding in there. It's annoying. Right before I wake up, it's morning of "the next day" and I've still been wandering, I have a set of keys in each pocket, and at least 8 electronic doodads I'm trying to find space for in my purse. As I'm rearranging stuff, I stick some things, including a rose, into my teeth, and I see these arresting-looking people-statues. I wink at them and they beam.