12:20:2002 Entry: "Ann : DREAM - Scary Motel Stuff"
DREAM - Scary Motel Stuff
A little history first: In August of 1997, Stan took a one-way plane to Colorado to help his recently widowed mother help clear out her house before she sold it. He inherited a 1985 AMC Eagle from his late father that he would drive back to Madison, along with a bunch of other stuff...paintings and such, that he had stored at his parent's house. He started out on a Friday morning, heading from the eastern plains of Colorado toward Madison. Like we do when we visit Colorado, he was planning on getting a motel in Lincoln, NE, but he couldn't find any vacancies when he got into town at the usual stops on the highway. He thought he'd go another 200 miles or so to a place we stayed once in Iowa on our move out to Madison back in 1989. Once there, he tried the motel we stayed at, but they wanted $60. For a single person. Outrageous! (He says he thinks they were prejudiced against him because he was a single male on a Friday night and to the motel owners they might have thought he was planning on partying with whores...little did they know he just needed a place for the night on his way home to his wife). So, Stan pulls a marathon and makes it back to Madison around midnight...all the way from the eastern plains of Colorado to Madison in one day...one driver. Amazing.
Now to the dream: Stan and I were travelling. It was near dusk and we pulled into a motel that was reminiscent of the motel in Iowa, except in the dream it was architecturally different...it was a series of older one-story motels. We enter the back way, and go into a room immediately, without asking at the front desk if they even had any vacancies or how much it was. There were old people in the room next to ours, and they were making a lot of noise. One old guy kept staring at me. The room was strange...it was very long. There was a door that was unhinged, leaning against a wall and it was covering another door that led to the old people's room. We brought all our stuff inside, and I told Stan that he'd better go to the desk to check in. I then realized that all our stuff that he'd brought in was in the hallway, which was why our room appeared so long, and that our actual room was very small. I was hoping our stuff would be ok in the hall, and that no one would steal it. I go to the front desk to find Stan. Everything is bathed in red light. Stan has his credit card out. I ask him how much it is, and the clerk says '$121.' I thought that was outrageously expensive, but I guess it was too late to turn back. Then I'm in another part of our motel room, which is a back room. I'm using it as an art studio. I took the unhinged door from where it was leaning and stacked it on some boxes or something on the floor and started to paint it or cover it with turpentine. There was turpentine running everywhere and it was starting to stink quite a bit. The paint on the door was buckling, like it was lead paint peeling off. I thought I'd better open the window and the back door to get some air in the place. Turpentine was all over, on the floor, everywhere. It was quite a mess.