Stan and I were in the company of someone we used to know (_o_d_). He was living on the western side of Ft. Collins sort of up in the foothills, although it didn't look like FC at all. He was driving us to his house. The landscape was quite unusual, and more southwest-looking than Northern Colorado. His place was right up against a hillside with southwest-looking stone outcroppings on top, along with large crested versions of cactus or euphorbias the size of large bushes. He parks in front of his house and a roommate is outside and comes to greet us, a black woman named Angie or something. She introduces herself to me when I'm in the car, and then leaves. I get out of the car and look around. Across the street is some school or business building that looks very mid-century cold war modern architecture. I then say that this is like something out of a dream, although I didn't realize I was dreaming when I said that so it really couldn't be considered lucid dreaming. Then we went inside his house. Inside, *his* home was like a school because it had a large stage and theatre in the center of it. I told him it would be so cool to have a theatre like this, with a stage with a wooden floor--imagine all the art projects you could do here. He seemed pretty ambivalent to my comment. I looked around and noticed there were people working on art projects on the stage and in little nooks surrounding it. I kept talking, mostly about how nice it would be to work here, although how most people working here are doing it on a grant as that is the only people who could afford it, and then I start going on one of my anti-individual grant speeches. I can't remember how it ended.

Labels: Dreams