dancing with Derek
I'm in a big group audience. We are interactive with the show, dancing, running and moving around in a spontaneous yet choreographed style. I don't really know what I'm doing; it's fun though. Derek Keevil and I are dancing.
a winter coat
NEXT, I'm in a little clothing shop. I see a rack of jackets. One looks great: big, durable, warm, waterproof, double-layered. It's used. I decide not to get it though.
reheating the beans
NEXT, I'm at John's house. I'm in the living room with Ko and John. I realize I'm hungry, so I go into the kitchen [the old one, unremodeled]. I look for food. All I see is tons of bread, in all different forms, which is frustrating. I wish we had more food -- a wider range of types. In the hanging basket I see a loaf of sweet berry bread, and I see many other loaves all over the place. But I want real food. I look on the stove and see a pan of rice and beans. I decide they'd be good, so I will reheat them. I ask Ko (who has now joined me in the kitchen) if he wants some; he says yes. I tell him that I'll bring him some in a minute if he wants to go back into the living room. He does. I reheat the beans and rice, which are now a pinkish-brown paste. I look for cups/bowls to use, finding tiny crystal glass teacups. I scoop the beans into the cups, dividing it equally between the two, and I have exactly enough to fill the cups to the top. I put a little grated cheese on top of each one. Then I'm somehow wandering around some city, downtown by myself.
singing of castles on gold roofs
NEXT, I'm standing on the roof of a very tall building. Lots of people are on the surrounding roof and streets -- all over the place. We are in some performance. I can hear music and singing. I look across the street to the roof directly across from me. A young man with thick, short, dark hair is singing a solo; I realize that he may actually be a "she" since everyone is cheering her on, chanting her name: Sylvia. Then the small group of people around me take the solo from there. I can tell that everyone is now watching us. We stand in a small circle (about 5 of us, including Noli), facing each other. We are singing about a castle. To illustrate, we all pull long pointed cream-colored tissue paper things onto our fingers, raising our hands straight up above our heads so that we'll look like a castle standing there. As we raise our arms, I realize that everyone has the tissue paper things on all their fingers (both hands), while I only have them on my left hand. We suddenly break up and run across the roof to get another nearby one. It is big and rectangular, all the corners smooth (with no sharp edges or corners); it is brilliantly gold, with a center rectangle of shimmering tiles. As they all leap across the gap to get to the gold roof, I remember how scared of heights I am. I am frightened that I'm going to roll of the side or something.
illegally stamping my postcards
NEXT, I'm at a post office (much like Parma's). I'm at the counter, but the woman behind it tells me that she can't help me for some reason. She goes back to the office that is a few feet behind the counter. I'm holding two or three postcards that I REALLY need to mail today. I see the official stamp on the counter in front of me. I pick it up and stamp one of my postcards. It looks totally legit, leaving a red oval stamp on the front. I nervously peek back at the woman, who is within eye range, but she seems busy enough not to notice what I'm doing. I lay my other card down and stamp again. This one looks even better. Now I can mail them today!
adventures in Japan
NEXT, I'm in Japan. Someone is telling me that we are only 10 meters away from Australia; they say that the 10 meters of ocean are rolling, turbulent and stormy. It sounds way too close, so I wonder if the person meant 10 miles. I see a map (in my head?): Japan stretches down south as a large peninsula, much like Florida's shape in the United States. I'm sitting in a Japanese restaurant with a group of people around a small table. Our table is also a cooler/refrigerator, with a glass top. I see various noodle dishes inside. We pass around several plates of salad, dishing them out for ourselves. One plate has large fresh-looking pieces of bright lettuce that shine with an oil & vinegar dressing. Another plate has identical lettuce but in much smaller pieces. There is also a plate of grated mozzarella cheese. All three plates reach me at once as they're passed around, so I try to juggle them all as I serve myself. I look over on the side of the wall and see a shelf of grocery items for sale. The American products are very expensive. Now we are ordering more food. The menu is 3-D, a plastic box with foods inside. I'm trying to decide what I want, but I can't. It all looks good. The menu is in English, not Japanese. There is a picture of an ice cream cone with its top cut off, next to a group of people who all have their mouths open wide. We are sitting with a man who is very experienced with Japan and this restaurant. He has blonde hair and a sandy beard. I ask him what he recommends. He says the sausage, because then I can compare it to what I expected and also what I think of sausage at the end of my trip, right before I leave Japan. The waitress is a young Japanese woman, chubby with dyed blonde hair; she is waiting to take our orders.
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