dreams: August 8, 1999

choosing what belongs to me

I'm waiting for my luggage, standing next to a conveyer belt that is going around. My big black bag comes around, and I suddenly watch another bag slide down onto the belt and slice open my bag, unzipping it so that the contents spill out everywhere.

My belongings are strewn all over the circular conveyer belt. It makes me feel frantic. I go around scooping up my things. Some fell down below the belt, so I have to kneel down to pick them up. I have to get it all before other people get it.

Then there is an official airport guy who has to check all my stuff for the lawful beauracracy. He is very fat, with a huge stomach and rolls of fat. He has a double chin, pale skin, and dark hair. We're walking along a mountain ridge that overlooks a big body of water (like Emigrant Lake). I look down and see John by himself in a small boat. His back is to us, and he's wearing a light purple shirt. He's crouching; he pulls down his pants. It looks like he's going pee. Then I somehow know he's going to masturbate there in the boat. I get a glimpse in my imagination of him with his penis in his hand, understanding his need for release. But I don't want to see, so I keep walking.

Then I'm sitting on the floor with the fat man. I'm picking through a large pile of things, choosing my own belongings to show the guy; he's going to officially declare these things legit. I am finding great stuff that I want to keep (even though it's not mine). I put them in my pile, feeling only a slight pang of guilt. The things are familiar anyway. I'm planning on saving some of it for the people of Mapia. There is a big vintage black handbag, partly beaded. I like it, so I keep it. Then I find an old old string of golden amber beads, large and flat. There are only enough for a bracelet or small necklace. They totally remind me of Mom. I keep it.

I feel chummy with the man, so I'm secure that I won't get caught for keeping things that don't belong to me. I'm kind of kissing his butt. He's telling me that he had surgery and had to be in the hospital for a long time (weeks? months?). He has a pained look on his face from the memory. I empathize. I tell him that I can relate -- I know the experience is hard, because I had a surgery experience too. But mine was only several days, so his must've been REALLY hard. I can tell it's comforting for him to hear that.

Then A.J.D. is on the trip with me. I take something that belongs to her to return to the main building. I'm threatened by her and mad at her.

- FIN -

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