Wow wow wow
I wish I could remember more of this one.
First of all, in non-dreaming life I once again woke up at 4 on the dot feeling sicker than I-don’t-know-what. Curled up on the carpet next to the bathroom and slept there for two hours. For some reason that seems to help and I awaken and trudge back to bed, much better. Yipes, I think I better get a p.g. test just in case. This is so weird.
Anyway, after that, here’s what happened:
Taking a bus into this community - muddy roads, huge deep puddles the bus clunks into.
I’m in school? Or am I playing with my mom’s old Tammy dolls representing this? I can’t figure out. I guess it keeps switching.
I’m new, and I can tell something bad is going on and I’m waiting for the right moment to do something about it. I keep watching.
Sleeping in locker rooms?? I think dorms are there and beds are spread out every which way. Lots of girls in curlers.
Back to the Tammy dolls - I realize that one of the dolls was put in with my Barbies. I’m finding all this stuff in the Tammy case I didn’t know I had. I pull out this big bin of fake food. One of the dolls isn’t eating right so I’m looking for possibilities for her. I take out two bigger plates stuck together - there are two people-sized brownie-ish cookies stuck on the plates meant to be pizzas. I guess the dolls were supposed to be like the students.
Some final presentation is happening and I am running after whatever perpetrators are escaping. I leap down floor after floor, staircase after staircase (finding the most beautiful amazing books on the way - I think a different grade is on each floor) and finally decide to jump, hang from one of the floors (the actual edge of the floor is exposed like an open dollhouse), and drop onto the bad guys. It works perfectly and I grab both of them, hollering Help! We’re all lying on the grass, me clinging as tightly as I can to them. They don’t look too bad, after all - one guy’s pretty clean-cut and has a bowtie and nice pressed white short-sleeve top - but I’m determined they’ve done something wrong, and somebody comes, I explain, and they take them away.
Switch to something else. Here’s the real community thing part. I can’t even remember where it started. Darn it.
Beads are spilling out everywhere. I’m in a room with some sarcastic reporter guy, who seems to be gray, and like the newspaper he writes for. I don’t know where the beads came from, but all these beautiful ladies from the community swoop down and help get them cleaned up. It’s like some kind of living history museum but the people really live here, and they love it. The history is not so important as their culture. Kind of Mennonite or something. The light in this whole place is so incredible. All these sunset colors - peachy yellow and pinks and sherbety oranges - glow from everywhere - not a light source, really, just the walls, I guess. Everything is delicious.
Anyway, back to the ladies. They’re in these long skirts and shawls and maybe their hair is pinned up. Kind of 1800s. They crawl beside me, brushing past me with a flourish of ruffles - in purples, I think. One has the most beautiful beaded shawl, and I tell her so, and she thanks me. I look on the bed that they’ve scooped the beads on to, and the tiny beads seem to be forming themselves into beautiful color combinations and patterns.
There’s a bead, or a stone - something bigger than the rest - and I pick it up and look through it. When I look through it one way, I can see the front of the beautiful little house I’m in. It has a thatched roof, and I can see us all on the bed through the big window in front. It projects my vision as if I’m ten feet in front of myself and looking my direction. If I turn the stone around, I see the back of me and everything surrounding from ten feet behind.
They disappear and the gray guy is there, grumbling to the air around him. He knows I’ve bought into this place entirely and he’s half-heartedly trying to make his point. He says, “How can you not get bored doing this stuff?” (Referring to the chores they make their life up with.) “Getting sick would at least be more exciting!” (I’m guessing part of the community’s purpose is for health.)
I respond with, “You think suffering through three weeks of sickness is entertaining?” and he concedes that I’m right and kind of shuffles off.
I go back into the room and it’s a kind of ice cream parlor. I have a huge bakery tray of frozen fruit pop things, and I’m sampling them. There are all these wonderful combinations. A waitress comes up to me and says, “Try this one.” I do, and then she comes back with a tumbler of another flavor syrup that I should put on top of it.
I realize I have to go, and I ask her if I can get a to-go container for the remaining melting pops - they can just all go together. She seems a little annoyed by the request, and I follow her up to the counter as she drips all of the stuff into a canister. She says, “not many people actually take the time to eat their leftovers,” and I reply, “Not many people will reuse the container, either. Although next time I’m bringing my own to-go container!” and she smiles. I leave.
I grab a brochure so I can tell Dan about this place, and resolve to return very soon. I finally realize it’s called Sedona. (I think.) As I head outside, I see a ceremony. Two ladies, one very young and one older, are made the focus of it, as are all members on their own special day. They both have bead crowns sewn into their hair. They are at the top of some kind of propped-up beflowered tree fort, and everyone is crowded onto and around this dais. The young woman bends her head down onto the railing, and the older one bends her head over top almost in protection, so we see two beaded crowns on a blonde head and a dark one.
I climb into a jeep with some of the school kids. As we drive past the houses, the driver asks how our visits were. I scoop up some of the beautiful books I seem to have dropped. A girl says: “I spent my entire time looking at that one guy! Oh, he was so gorgeous.” Someone else says they did something, and I say, “I spent my whole time trying to save the day! And I did it!”
We drive toward the entrance and I brace myself for that last big puddle we’re about to clunk into. I wake up.
I worked hard to remember everything, but I sure wish I could remember more.
First of all, in non-dreaming life I once again woke up at 4 on the dot feeling sicker than I-don’t-know-what. Curled up on the carpet next to the bathroom and slept there for two hours. For some reason that seems to help and I awaken and trudge back to bed, much better. Yipes, I think I better get a p.g. test just in case. This is so weird.
Anyway, after that, here’s what happened:
Taking a bus into this community - muddy roads, huge deep puddles the bus clunks into.
I’m in school? Or am I playing with my mom’s old Tammy dolls representing this? I can’t figure out. I guess it keeps switching.
I’m new, and I can tell something bad is going on and I’m waiting for the right moment to do something about it. I keep watching.
Sleeping in locker rooms?? I think dorms are there and beds are spread out every which way. Lots of girls in curlers.
Back to the Tammy dolls - I realize that one of the dolls was put in with my Barbies. I’m finding all this stuff in the Tammy case I didn’t know I had. I pull out this big bin of fake food. One of the dolls isn’t eating right so I’m looking for possibilities for her. I take out two bigger plates stuck together - there are two people-sized brownie-ish cookies stuck on the plates meant to be pizzas. I guess the dolls were supposed to be like the students.
Some final presentation is happening and I am running after whatever perpetrators are escaping. I leap down floor after floor, staircase after staircase (finding the most beautiful amazing books on the way - I think a different grade is on each floor) and finally decide to jump, hang from one of the floors (the actual edge of the floor is exposed like an open dollhouse), and drop onto the bad guys. It works perfectly and I grab both of them, hollering Help! We’re all lying on the grass, me clinging as tightly as I can to them. They don’t look too bad, after all - one guy’s pretty clean-cut and has a bowtie and nice pressed white short-sleeve top - but I’m determined they’ve done something wrong, and somebody comes, I explain, and they take them away.
Switch to something else. Here’s the real community thing part. I can’t even remember where it started. Darn it.
Beads are spilling out everywhere. I’m in a room with some sarcastic reporter guy, who seems to be gray, and like the newspaper he writes for. I don’t know where the beads came from, but all these beautiful ladies from the community swoop down and help get them cleaned up. It’s like some kind of living history museum but the people really live here, and they love it. The history is not so important as their culture. Kind of Mennonite or something. The light in this whole place is so incredible. All these sunset colors - peachy yellow and pinks and sherbety oranges - glow from everywhere - not a light source, really, just the walls, I guess. Everything is delicious.
Anyway, back to the ladies. They’re in these long skirts and shawls and maybe their hair is pinned up. Kind of 1800s. They crawl beside me, brushing past me with a flourish of ruffles - in purples, I think. One has the most beautiful beaded shawl, and I tell her so, and she thanks me. I look on the bed that they’ve scooped the beads on to, and the tiny beads seem to be forming themselves into beautiful color combinations and patterns.
There’s a bead, or a stone - something bigger than the rest - and I pick it up and look through it. When I look through it one way, I can see the front of the beautiful little house I’m in. It has a thatched roof, and I can see us all on the bed through the big window in front. It projects my vision as if I’m ten feet in front of myself and looking my direction. If I turn the stone around, I see the back of me and everything surrounding from ten feet behind.
They disappear and the gray guy is there, grumbling to the air around him. He knows I’ve bought into this place entirely and he’s half-heartedly trying to make his point. He says, “How can you not get bored doing this stuff?” (Referring to the chores they make their life up with.) “Getting sick would at least be more exciting!” (I’m guessing part of the community’s purpose is for health.)
I respond with, “You think suffering through three weeks of sickness is entertaining?” and he concedes that I’m right and kind of shuffles off.
I go back into the room and it’s a kind of ice cream parlor. I have a huge bakery tray of frozen fruit pop things, and I’m sampling them. There are all these wonderful combinations. A waitress comes up to me and says, “Try this one.” I do, and then she comes back with a tumbler of another flavor syrup that I should put on top of it.
I realize I have to go, and I ask her if I can get a to-go container for the remaining melting pops - they can just all go together. She seems a little annoyed by the request, and I follow her up to the counter as she drips all of the stuff into a canister. She says, “not many people actually take the time to eat their leftovers,” and I reply, “Not many people will reuse the container, either. Although next time I’m bringing my own to-go container!” and she smiles. I leave.
I grab a brochure so I can tell Dan about this place, and resolve to return very soon. I finally realize it’s called Sedona. (I think.) As I head outside, I see a ceremony. Two ladies, one very young and one older, are made the focus of it, as are all members on their own special day. They both have bead crowns sewn into their hair. They are at the top of some kind of propped-up beflowered tree fort, and everyone is crowded onto and around this dais. The young woman bends her head down onto the railing, and the older one bends her head over top almost in protection, so we see two beaded crowns on a blonde head and a dark one.
I climb into a jeep with some of the school kids. As we drive past the houses, the driver asks how our visits were. I scoop up some of the beautiful books I seem to have dropped. A girl says: “I spent my entire time looking at that one guy! Oh, he was so gorgeous.” Someone else says they did something, and I say, “I spent my whole time trying to save the day! And I did it!”
We drive toward the entrance and I brace myself for that last big puddle we’re about to clunk into. I wake up.
I worked hard to remember everything, but I sure wish I could remember more.