dreams: December 17, 1998
crystals protect the mansion
I'm at Swarthmore, and Carrie is telling me that she wishes "they" (?) would've planned to have the dinner outside on the lawn facing her house. I look up and see a huge white mansion, several stories high with white columns in front; it's way across an expansive green lawn that's on the edge of the Swat campus. Carrie's mom and stepdad live there. Then I'm by myself near the front yard of Carrie's big house. The ground beneath my feet is raw light-brown soil. I look down and see a beautiful smooth crystal popping its head out of the earth right next to my foot. I drop down to my knees and pull it out. It is wide and heavy, sparkly on the ends and almost purple in the middle. I hold it in my hands, thinking I want to keep it (maybe to give to Will Bagley). Then I notice another one on the ground. And another. And another. I realize they all belong to Carrie's parents; it's a sacred site to protect their home. Many different colored and sized stones and crystals are set up in a particular order, some buried and some on top of the soil. They are pointing toward the house. Then I see special little metal figurines. I pick one up; it's the shape of a tiny brass boot. It is light, attached to a small stone warrior. I decide I'll keep it. Then I change my mind and put it back. I just hold onto the original heavy purple crystal I first found, leaving the rest in their places.
Jude is sad
NEXT, I'm downstairs in a house. Lots of people are here (Mom, Phoebe, others), and they all leave. The only other person here is Jude, and she's upstairs. She doesn't know I'm here. As soon as I hear the last car outside leave, I hear her start sobbing. She's wailing and crying, thinking she's alone in the house.
quieting the room to hear about Brazil
NEXT, I'm at school. I get up from class and go to the bathroom. In the stall, I have to deal with my period. I take the panty-liner/pad off my underwear and throw it away, feeling like it's plugging me up, stealing my moisture. Groups are giving presentations in class today. My group is waiting for me -- I'm taking too long in the bathroom. My group's topic is Brazil. Finally I get back to class. There are many students sitting in rows and rows of seats (like a small theater). It's my turn to speak. I have a whole speech/presentation planned out, my notes in hand. The whole place is totally loud. People are talking and shouting. Music is playing. I stand on the platform in the middle of the room, waiting for people to quiet down. There is a tent-like thing next to me that's covered in canvas; it's the DJ's booth. I yell for people to be quiet. No one hears me. I stand and begin speaking, hoping people will notice and start paying attention. The noise continues. I look over and see two girls screaming back and forth to each other (they're a few rows apart); they're not yelling words -- just barks of loud, obnoxious sounds. I'm totally annoyed. One of the girls is Jessica from Ashland High School (younger, lots of makeup, huge toothy smile, long curly hair). I go over and approach her, at first feeling apprehensive about being too harsh, since I don't want to create friction between us. I don't want to seem over-authoritative, for I need her respect during my presentation. I go up and say, "Geez, you sure know how to yell, don't you?" She stops and looks up at me, immediately understanding what I mean. She's quiet. The music is still blasting. I'm feeling frustrated and angry. I open the canvas flap and look inside. Three guys are standing around playing a record on the DJ's table. (One reminds me of Phoebe's friend, Matt.) I tell them to stop, but they don't hear me. So I grab the needle and pull it off the record. Screech. It finally gets a little quieter in the room. Our professor, a kind man with a dark beard, asks the room to be quiet. Phew, finally everyone's paying attention and I can start. I talk about Brazil. I'm discussing how we as students have many resources to learn about another culture -- not merely academic books. My assignment for the class is to find other means of researching Brazil (i.e. fiction, Internet, movies). The professor adds a few words, talking about my subject. I look at my notes and see that the last thing I had written was: "Maya - in 6 days." I assume I meant I need to make the homework due for the class in six days. But that doesn't seem like enough time now. Then I'm opening the trunk of car that's parked on 'B' Street and 3rd Street, in front of the big white corner house. It hasn't been opened in years and years (since 1958?). It's beautiful and sacred, like an altar. It's a flat table-like surface covered in embroidered bright red satin. There is an oval locket that has an old black & white photo of three people, a family. One of the three is a young kid whom I now know as a grown adult, which shows me the lapse of time. They're all hispanic. Another person in the picture looks familiar, like he's a celebrity. The person I'm with says, "Oh, it's _____ (Gabriel? Garcia? Diaz?)." I'm honored to see this special time capsule in the car. Then I'm in someone's house. It feels like it's after a D. work. I need to wash my white clothes and take a shower. I see Geoff in the other room. He's wearing all white, except for a dark v-neck vest sweater.
[I wake up feeling very grateful for all I have...]
- FIN -
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