dreams: October 28, 1999

preparation for his arrival

I'm getting the room ready for his arrival (Troy's?). I look out the window and see that I'm actually in a different room now, since I'm facing a different direction, looking down the street instead of perpendicular to it. My altar is on a narrow shelf on the wall. I light three candles, placing one in the center and the other two on the ends.

a phallic hotdog

Then I'm in a big room (resembles LPAC) with Sam. Now it's small and cozy, and Sam is on the another corner doing her own thing (African dance?). I'm trying to make a bed that's very large; it's actually a couple mattresses pushed together. I see that a big hotdog got stuck between the beds and is sticking up vertically. I'm about to pull it out when I get struck with the idea that it would make a good dildo, easy to straddle for some stimulation. I decide to come back to it after I finish making the bed. The room is now at a steep diagonal incline, and the floor (bed? ceiling?) is made up of maroon square cells. I stretch the covers over the hotdog, since I'm a little self-conscious about others seeing it.

I'm labeled as someone who doesn't know big words

I'm in a big house, but it's time to go. John is going to come pick me up. A young man is telling me about something that recently happened to him -- when he was talking to a group of kids about his life choices. He dropped out of Yale because it wasn't for him. (He's tall and broad-shouldered, with blonde hair; he kind of reminds me of Troy, as well as Scott, who worked at the Varsity Theater.)

John gets here, but I have to go get something upstairs first. I'm in a small room with a shiny hardwood floor. (It's Phoebe's room in the house.) Outside the sky is a brilliant array of light colors, mainly pink, orange and gold. The light fills up the room, since the windows are very large. The room is quite empty, except for a chair that's next to a stack of papers. I sit down and start looking through the papers, searching for something I need before I leave. A middle-aged woman walks in. She lives here. She's rich, dignified and stylish. She asks me if she knows the word for _____ (she's doing a crossword puzzle or writing something). I say it could be "cornucopious" or something like that, adding that I'm probably not the one to ask. She agrees that I probably don't know big words. This woman reminds me of Mom. I realize John is still waiting for me downstairs.

- FIN -

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