dreams: January 9, 1999
I'm in a restaurant; it's low-end, almost fast-food, with bright lights and colors and a shiny floor but poor food. Geoff is here too. He and I see Marie Bouman. I stop to talk. She's smaller than me, much shorter. She says it's her birthday. "When?" I ask. "The ninth," she replies. Geoff and I look at each other, realizing today is the ninth. "Today?!" I say. Yes. I immediately call out to the whole place that we have a birthday girl, pointing to Marie, turning around to address all sides of the room until everyone is clapping and cheering.
I'm in a big city with two girls my age and an old man. We're in a big elevator. They are all very skilled writers, talking in a cynical, witty manner, playing with their words. They're making up elaborate rhymes. It's entertaining to listen to them. We are in the home of the old man, a famous author. The apartment has various levels. Madonna (the '80s version) is in the elevator too, talking to her girlfriend; she borrows her dark-red lipstick.
an urban social scene
The man is telling me about a dilemma he has about living with his mom -- how he hates it, but it's necessary. I tell him ("John Houston") I'll send him good vibes when I go back to the States, but he smirks.
- FIN -
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