12:20:2003 Entry: "Ann : It's been a strange weekend."
It's been a strange weekend.
Let these dreams be a warning: Do not look at creepy catalogues of cheesey holiday crap before you go to bed.
I can't remember the sequences of events, as usual, but I can remember some of the specifics. Here goes:
I think I was walking toward the old chemistry building at CSU. As I entered, it turned into sort of a mall, sort of like Cinderella City. I was inside the old chemistry stockroom where I worked, but it was more like a gift shop. Stan and Tim were there too. We were trying to leave the store, but by the time I could leave, the doorway was blocked by someone pushing a big cart filled with jewelry and trinkets. The store clerk told him to go one direction, and then another, so it prevented me from being able to leave because I was consistently blocked. Then I decided to hell with it all, and pushed my way by the cart peddler, knocking junk off his and the store's displays. I didn't care. By the time I got out into the main part of the mall, Stan and Tim couldn't be found. I walked down the rather deserted mall looking for them, and eventually found them. There must have been a bee or wasp flying around because Tim was swatting at it, and we all ducked down a stairwell to escape it. Downstairs, there were a bunch of musical events taking place, and there was this one group that was sitting in a circle of chairs and performing a song. I then realized that Matt (Tim's old roommate) was one of the performers. He was holding an accoustic guitar, but he wasn't playing it, probably because he didn't know how. He saw that I was in the audience and he looked at me with a 'how am I doing?' expression, so I smiled and gave him a 'thumbs up' even though his performance was rather pathetic. Then Stan gave me a bunch of CDs, but they looked more like albums...they were large, not small. They consisted mostly of Siouxsie and the Banshees, but old 80s stuff we used to have on vinyl, and new releases. There was something not right about the container they were in, the type was blurred (not intentionally), and it appeared as if it was a pirated copy, as if someone color photocopied the real thing. I thanked Stan, but also told him that this must have been more of a gift for himself because I really have no desire to listen to Siouxsie and the Banshees right now. Then it was like I was in a parking lot at night and Tim was with Stan and I and we were looking at a bunch of asphalt mixed with twigs and leaves and gunk on the street and saying that it looked like Matt's hair. As we were in the parking lot, we were watching something in the close distance which was sort of like an amusement park ride with two aeroplanes eached attached to a rod that would twirl them around from the center hub. It was all lit up in pinks and reds and purples, but we realized it was some sort of official training apparatus for pilots. Then it was as if I was hearing a conversation from my mom, telling me her travel plans, and how she would have to get a ride on a private plane from some pilot she knew because she missed her flight or something.
I woke up and went back to sleep, and my next dream involved watching another musical performance by some band like the Red Hot Chilli Peppers or someone (why?) and there was a woman on stage with them who was singing and she was wearing one a fake pilgrim hat. It was most disturbing, like something right out of that cheesey catalog.
I suppose you're wondering what this cheesey catalog is? Well, I'd put a link here right now to its website, except for the fact that Stan stepped on the cable wire outside while he was painting the house, hence dislogging our cable service, so I have no internet service, and haven't since about 1 on Saturday. In fact, I probably won't have internet service until sometime on Monday, but who knows when? 'They could be here any time between 8am and 8pm on Monday' as the customer service person told us. Isn't that just charming? How on earth is one supposed to deal with terms like that? I mean, if I didn't work at home, or if Stan didn't just happen to have Monday off because he arranged for it months in advance to work on the house at this time, we would be so screwed. We're still screwed, I mean, I don't have the internet. And to top it all off, I started getting really bad allergies on Saturday, so I took a Claritin. It totally knocked me out, which really sucks because I can't help Stan paint then. But when I'm not sleeping, I'm brain dead and can't do much except surf the internet or watch TV because Claritin makes me into a non-creative, fatigued vegetable. Which wouldn't be so bad, if I had the internet or cable tv.
I was watching something on TV that was narrated by Roger Waters. Or maybe he was like a news reporter. I forgot what it was about, but it was interesting. After a while, they showed some 'behind the scenes' footage, which was live, and I spotted Roger standing in a crowd of people. I told the people who were watching in the room with me, 'That's Roger, the one in black with those white cables around him.' (It looked like he had white computer cables over his shoulder...don't know why) But no one in the room seemed to care.
I was taking a swimming class, and there were two people in it that I knew back about 12 years ago. IRL, these two had an affair with eachohter; one of them was married to another man. I have absolutely no desire to see these people again. But in the dream, I was sitting along the edge of the pool, and she was on my left and he was on my right. They kept talking to eachohter over me. Someone else was making a presentation, but I was having a hard time hearing because of the silly couple. I then said loudly, 'Excuse me!' and subsequently, everyone in the class, including the instructor, stared at me, like 'how dare she!' but they didn't give a rat's ass when the silly couple were talking with eachother. Typically sentimental. I was especially creeped out by the swim teacher...he was like Lieutennant Corporal (or whatever his rank was) Killgore from Apocalypse Now.
I was with Tim and we were trying to sit in some seats that were like theatre seats, but the setting was like a store. I had no idea about what else was going on.
I was with some friend from high school and I wanted her to smell some perfumes I had bought really cheaply for $1.00 each, but the perfumes were still factory sealed. She made some comment about the perfumes being for children, which made me feel bad (but what would I expect for $1.00?) I don't understand this dream.