Dreams: June 29, 1997

proud to be red white & blue

I'm in a foreign country (Middle Eastern?). I go to make a phone call in a phone booth. As I am going over there, digging through my purse for coins, I see a handsome guy with long blonde hair and facial stubble. He looks American; sure enough, when I ask him, he tells me that he is from the U.S.. He seems relieved to meet a fellow American. I take him back to the place where I'm staying with other Americans, my friends. There's a store here. I hear someone explain how the owner does not trust Americans, keeping a close eye on us. I'm looking around the store. I see a tray of different chocolates and carobs. One has almonds, and another has sunflower seeds. I decide I want to try one, so I take a nibble when nobody is looking.
Shana is here. I'm happy to see her. I think back to the funny time downtown when I first saw her back in Ashland. I'm telling some friends the funny story -- how I saw Amber's car, and then saw Shana and dropped my bike. I see Amber in the crowd of people listening to my story.

too many tickly spiders

NEXT, I'm lying in bed in my room at Mom's house. Little tiny spiders are descending on threads from the ceiling all over me, hanging over the bed and landing on me. I feel their creepy tickles all over my skin.

watching James by the sea

NEXT, I'm in a big theater watching a James Taylor concert. He is way up at the front, on stage, in front of the microphone with his guitar; a huge choir is all around him as backup singers. At one point, about three of the singers (all big women in shiny robes) fall on their butts. They all had embarrassingly fallen asleep. The audience laughs -- Taylor's songs ARE pretty lullaby-slow.
I am sitting up against the left wall, watching the concert by myself. I'm taking up a bunch of the seats around me (2 rows, about 3 seats in each) with my spread-out blankets and stuff. The family in front of me asks if they can use a couple of the seats I am using since they need a place to put their sleeping baby. I say sure and am happy to give the seats to them.
There is a young man behind me (younger than me). He's flirting with me, trying to make conversation. I can't hear him. Every time he says something, I have to say "What?". It's tiring. He's wearing a black & white baseball cap backwards.
The concert ends. Everyone is packing up their stuff to leave. Some people are leaving their seats beautiful with colorful images and messages. My seats are now just several rows of steps made out of sand. I sprinkle colorful sand over them: pink, yellow, gold, blue. I leave a message along the side of one, spelling out some words.
Then I notice that the tide is quickly rising. All I see is ocean when I look out toward where the stage used to be. The rising waves are ruining people's art, so I quit on mine, noticing that it looks sparkly pretty.
My stuff is hanging off a hook on the wall. Yet it's now out of reach. I see my camera hanging from a long black cord, as well as my shirts. I'm now waist-high in water. I stand on my tiptoes trying to reach the ends of my things, which are only millimeters away from my fingertips.
I jump up and smack the stuff, knocking it off the hook. I catch the clothes as they fall, but my camera flies into the water. I'm freaked, so I plunge underwater; I can see my camera floating downwards through the dark-green sea water. I reach out and grab it, standing up to breathe air. I wonder if the water ruined my camera?


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