Dream 406: Day of Night
08.01.2015 § Leave a comment
I have to give an important political statement on behalf of Tristram, but I haven’t really prepared a distilled talk, so I want to get out of it. Even though this is a huge opportunity for me. I really should have thought about this ahead of time. I guess If I can somehow make a copy of my notes, I can just skim them on the spot…
My meal has fallen over sideways in the fridge-sized microwave. I scrape my broccoli off the shelf. Fortunately no sauce leaked out.
I pour creamy pink punch over canned diced pineapple, and get accosted by a tall fat orange-haired man about wasting food.
What company is Shane is working for, now?
Vince jumps on my shoulders from behind. I thought it was Tristan at first before I could see him, so we get some laughs about that. He’s rolling, and I make him stand up too quickly for his comfort. I help him find the two things that fell out of his pockets when he jumped on me. I’m concerned that I’ve scratched or smeared his watch face.
I say goodbye to everyone staying behind to clean up the party. I’m the last one to leave because I’d been in the bathroom. I don’t offer to help or say thanks, or bother to tell them where I’m going (to the next party).
Crossing my legs and hopping, I can leap entire blocks in single bounds, almost floating. These city blocks are getting more and more extremely downhill. I’m losing control. To my surprise, a person comes in view standing at a small mid-block alleyway, who is holding up stop sign. I can’t be sure whether this is meant to be respected by pedestrians or not, but I try to catch myself anyway and end up falling on my face. So much for showing off.
I had realized that I had one controller, but collecting myself here I realize that I actually have two controllers in my pocket which I picked up accidentally at Shane’s house, perhaps while helping Vince find his stuff. Taking a breather on the steps of the AMC (with a glowing red neon sign reading that) here at this alley corner, I decide to turn back and return them. A bunch of young Mexican kids pass by.
Daytime now. Walking across the Dallas suburban lawn, I trip over outdoor arcade game cords.
Night, back in our Mexican hotel room, Karin’s mother comes in without giving much time after knocking. Karin’s brother scrambles to put away his weed. He misses some he left on my bed, so I ponder for a long time and eventually put my hand over it to conceal it.
Day again, on a bus. A GPS thing at the front has been turned around to face out the front of the bus. Someone in the back questions whether or not it will catch the upcoming ditch. I turn it around just in time for us to confirm that yes indeed it does — it’s the ratty end of a gravel road, and just past the ditch the road is closed, so we have to turn back.