dreams: April 14, 1998
a housing claim on Parrish Beach
I'm running around with some friends on a steep huge hill of green mowed grass. It's a lot of fun. I'm running and rolling really fast. I zoom by Justin Hall, who is sitting cross-legged; someone is behind him cutting his hair. It looks like a buzz cut. We're choosing housing for next year. I somehow get one of the most popular locations, only for seniors. It's a tiny piece of land on Parrish Beach, right in front of the building. I'm next to a bunch of others, with no space in between our properties. I ask someone to make the boundaries clearer, so they spray paint the lines bright white. I walk over and stand in my "room." It is teeny-tiny, the size of my closet, just barely big enough for a bed and a desk, if they were butted up against each other. It feels a little clausterphobic when I imagine it with walls. I walk to a nearby room along the edge. It is a lot bigger (like a walk-in closet), with its own little bathroom (like an outhouse). Janitors are going around cleaning the toilets. Phoebe is somehow in my dream. I decide that I'm going to request a room change. I can't stand the size of mine, even if I am in the perfect location, surrounded by fellow seniors.
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