dreams: August 11, 1998
aim the pee
I go downstairs into a basement room where a bunch of weird folks are hanging out. Phoebe is here too. I see a whole hippie scene with pot smokers. Koeby Johnson is the leader. I have to go pee, so I tell him. He leads me over to a funny water-heater-like device; he says I'll have to climb up on top and aim my stream of pee down into a small rotating drain.
NEXT, some parade event is happening to celebrate Django Andrews. I'm standing in a line of people. I'm talking to someone about making cookies (or salsa?).
struggling to fit the mold
NEXT, I'm in a group that's being led to a fancy event. We're a group of students. I'm talking to one woman (she looks like Katie Parlier from high school: dark straight hair, tall, big); at first I think she's from Washington D.C., but it turns out she's actually from Atlanta. We're discussing how she can always get a great job no matter what -- that the opportunities always just land on her lap. When we arrive at the event, the adults give us little flower/ribbon corsages to pin to the left sides of dresses/suits, on our chests. We need to wear them to be respectful of the traditions of the event. Everyone else seems to have no problem pinning theirs onto themselves. My flowers slip off, onto the floor, and then my ribbon. I try to repin it, but it really hurts; I feel like the pin keeps puncturing my skin, going into my fingers as I try to pin it on. An older leader man tries to help me; he's balding and short, with authority. Now I see that the little corsage has to be pinned to a piece of sausage and then to me. The guy is being kind of mean, questioning why I'm having so much trouble. He makes some critical remark about how my eyebrows have so much hair; I say that at least I have hair here, pointing to the top of my head. I look down and see that he pinned it onto me vertically, not horizontally, so my long sausage looks weird. I'm wearing a conservative long floral dress. I look at the pile of different-colored sausage pieces on the table and wonder if the oil will stain my dress. I pick out a new piece and try again. It hurts again; I'm scared of the sharp pins/needles. Everyone's already sitting down at a long table, so I give up and decide not to wear a corsage. I see Kim Patton, and she has a beautiful corsage configuration pinned to the center of her chest, at her heart. Her boyfriend is also with her, and he has an elaborate green fern collaboration pinned to his suit, covering his chest. I go over to sit down, but all the places look like they're taken. I'm getting more and more frustrated. I finally see an empty space at the table, but it has no chair. I ask if anyone's sitting there already. The young unfriendly black woman next to the space says she doesn't know. I reach under the table and grab an empty chair from the other side, finally sitting down. Everyone has already started eating. I look down at my plate of food: a big mass of three different mushed up dishes. I look at them and realize that the top dish is God / Higher Power, while the second dish (on the right of the plate) is Jesus Christ, and the third dish (on the left) is Him, the American God.
my friends merge
NEXT, I walk into a room, and lots of people are sitting around talking. I look around and see that they're all old Ashland friends (Spring Riggs, Miles Rogers, Django Andrews, Katie Holden, Amber Fyfe-Johnson, etc.). I'm excited to see everyone and to be a part of the group. Then I realize that there are also Swat friends. "Wow! It's both Swatties and Ashland friends!" I say. I can hardly believe it. Will Mackintosh is sitting across from me, eating something.
- FIN -
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