dreams: October 6, 1999
We're in a house, and someone points out that the brown wall has a bond rail there, thus it's wittily called "James Bond." Then I see that every single detail of the whole house is a play on words, like part of a crossword puzzle. I'm getting a big kick out of it, walking around and looking at the ceiling and bookcases, floor and doorways. It's a huge mansion, elaborately designed and decorated. I totally wish Mani and Madhu could be here, since they would be the ones to see the most puzzles and get the most jokes. They would appreciate it more than anyone I know.
the house of witticisms
I walk into a huge ballroom, all sparkling blue, with very little furniture (only on the sides). The floor is a geometric layout of square tiles, and it curves up slightly in the corners of the room, not flat on the ground. The ceiling is very high, and there are large, tall windows framed with light blue curtains. I ask what the name of this room is; someone says it's simply "Bond." It has something to do with war.
I'm thrilled to be here. I feel like dancing and flying. I run across the room (diagonally), from one side to the other, as fast as I can. I see my arms and hands fluttering around in front of me, which wakes me up to a lucid state for a few moments, as I realize the irony of how this is a dream.
Then I'm sitting on the floor, looking through a prominent stylish magazine. I'm with a young woman friend (reminds me of Noli and Phoebe and someone else). I ask her to play the "pointing game" from my childhood, explaining that she gets to choose one thing she can have on each page, and as long as she touches it first, she can have it. We are looking at a spread with crystals, elegant jewelry and elaborate dresses.
There is a photo spread of a famous young designer woman named Ursula Benning (or something similar). She is tall and skinny, wearing cream-colored slacks and a huge black sports coat (like David Byrne in his earlier Talking Heads tour days). She looks powerful and masculine, with a very little head in relation to her body. "She's a relative of mine," I tell my friend who's sitting with me. I explain that she's the sister of my grandmother, Bessie. Benning is a family name. My aunts are part of the connection too. Then I realize that the woman who owns this house is also a relative of mine, part of the family. She's older but not married, kind of eccentric and very rich.
- FIN -
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