the etiquette of toys

In this dream, my sister lived in a colonial-era bungalow in India and I guess it was the colonial era, because she was not allowed to leave the house either. My brother-in-law was a wealthy landowner and would go out On Business. When he was gone, my sister was bored, so he would bring her beautiful wooden painted toys to keep her occupied. 

But she didn't like wooden toys; she liked plastic toys and would get other people in the house to bring her plastic toys.

My BIL found out about it and brought her a plastic toy on his next return home but was angry that she preferred the plastic toys over the handpainted wooden ones. 

A heavy warm stay in Tri-Cities

From Sept. 10, 2011

I moved to Tri-Cities and stayed with the family of a friend there. The house was almost like an apartment building and had a garage apartment, but I slept in the actual house, not the garage apartment. I did not know how long I would stay there. 

I lived everyday life there with the family. It was a life I loved; I felt like I was living in a dream where everything was full of orange and brown, flecks of yellow, nostalgia from a childhood I experienced and from one my friend experienced all wrapped up into a shared nostalgia that we were still lucky to live in.

We then went bike riding in Moscow, because of course in this dream Moscow was part of Tri-Cities. However, as we were nearing the edge of the U of I campus, we heard there was a tornado warning and decided to head back. We did not see any tornadoes though; only rain in the distance. My friend's bike broke down and I had to fix it, which I did with little difficulty, and we made it back before the rain.

When we returned, I wanted to make tea, but in my own kitchen there were no pots and pans. I took some from the main kitchen and began to make tea. My friend's sister and mom came in and wanted to talk about how long I would stay, because the neighbors had seen a card with my name on it and had complained; they said that citizens were not welcome in this neighborhood, only immigrants. I told them that was ridiculous and illegal, but I was ready to move back to Pullman because I missed Anirban. I called him and he was happy to hear that I was coming back. So I got ready to move back to Pullman, bringing the orange and brown memories of nostalgia back with me.

When no one came to our rescue

I dreamt that AM and I were in Baton Rouge, and we needed to go to the Walmart on Siegen Lane. We went there, parked in the parking garage, and went inside. Once inside the Walmart, we were a bit confused because the layout was different from the one here. So we just walked to the back-left corner (as facing the store) and found that there was an area that looked as if it were under construction, and behind that plastic wall were a collection of cubicles. There were office workers working in the cubicles. I felt like maybe we shouldn't be in that area, so we went out to try to find what we were looking for, but we could not find it. We walked up to the front of the store, where the checkouts were and a large open McDonald's right before the checkouts. I kind of wanted to eat at McDonald's but I didn't say anything, and we went back out to the car.

When we got there, we found that we were unable to leave because a truck was blocking us. Except that the truck was mostly on top of our car. No sign of the owner of the truck. At this point, I tried to figure out what to do. My first thought was to contact the building management (there was a small office building connected to the Walmart, and you had to walk through a corridor to get there). I asked a middle-aged couple if they knew who managed the building and they looked at me like I was crazy. So I walked into the corridor and found a small plate near the floor with the management company's name on it. I noted that down, but then decided it would probably be a better idea to report it to the police.I didn't have the police phone number in Baton Rouge, and I didn't want to call 911. So I looked up the number on my phone and dialed.

The first time I called, I got a business in Connecticut. Apparently the phone number was wrong, or I had misdialed. So I tried again, and this time got the police station, but they were only open to take calls on Tuesdays and Thursdays until 5:30 PM, and it was a weekend and 5:35 PM, so could I call back on Tuesday? I told them no, that we only had one car and I needed it right now. They hung up on me.

AM, at this point, opened the car and sat in it, because it was getting a bit cold outside. When I saw this, I told him to get out of the car, because the weight of the truck on top of it could crush it at any time. He reluctantly got out of the car, but not before getting our guns out of the glove compartment, and handed mine to me. Just in case. I took the gun and put it in my pocket, and tried to call the police back again. This time, no one picked up.

There was more of a crowd at this time, people coming and going. No one seemed to care that there was a truck on top of my car. We decided we wanted to sit down, so climbed up to a grassy area that was half-inside the parking garage, half-outside, and sat against a concrete block. A bit later - perhaps around 7 pm - a yellow truck came into the parking lot, skidded a bit, and landed in a parking space. I told AM that this is probably how our car got in such trouble. Not a minute later, a red truck came in, did the same thing, but toppled over on its side. The owner got out of the truck, swearing, and went over to confront the guy in the yellow truck. A crowd formed around them, and they started fighting. They also had guns. Suddenly we all realized we weren't safe and people started to lie down on the ground. I grabbed AM and we hid behind the concrete block, as low to the ground as possible, which was kind of useless considering we were about 12 feet above where the action was going on. When people started getting up and running for the exit, we decided to do the same thing. We jumped down from the wall and lost ourselves in the crowd. We got through the door, outside the Walmart, and at that point we were safe. But we had left our cell phones on that grassy area, so after the excitement died down, we went back out to the grassy area (from the outside of the Walmart) and picked up our phones, which were still lying there.

I figured no one was going to come fix this problem unless I called 911, so I finally did. The 911 operator sounded bored, and when I told her that there had been an accident and I needed someone to come handle it, she asked if anyone was hurt and I said no, so she told me it wasn't an emergency. Instead of arguing, I hung up the phone and decided to try again, but this time when I called 911 the phone just rang and rang. Finally I did reach someone else, but they couldn't understand what had happened and after all this time - perhaps now it was 9 at night - no one had come to help us. At this point, I realized my gun was missing, but figured it was probably for the best, because if the cops came, I didn't want to have an unlicensed gun on my person, and I didn't know how to shoot it anyway. AM was getting excited about the idea that we would have a rental car that insurance would pay for, and I told him not to give up just yet, that the police would come and fix the problem. I did understand that the car was probably undrivable, but at this point, the police HAD to come. If they didn't, it was a failure on my part.

Bits and Pieces

I have to start writing my dreams down again. I need to remember these things, I know it. Sometimes I don't write them because they are a bit shocking even to myself. But I should still write. Shouldn't I?

Here are a few things I remember:

From the summer, silk sheets and a round blue bed. Negotiations. Superficial beauty and all the things that surround that. What is it that is wanted? Not all that glitters. It is funny how in my dreams and in real life, I end up wanting the same things.

In mid-fall, I found myself writing a novel in my dream. In order to write this novel I had to spend time in a Victorian mansion to find out what it was like. I lived every word of the stories that I wrote, beautiful, historical, romantic. What would life be like after the novel was published?

Last night I dreamt of a large house, perhaps early-mid 20th century, with peaked ceilings of wood and the most beautiful chandeliers, one of which I knocked down with a long metal rod and had to clean it up. It was not my house. AM and RS were still roommates and it was their house. They shared a room that had twin captain beds with navy blue bedspreads. I felt less bad that I had destroyed their chandelier than that I was clumsy.

Everything in my dreams is more sophisticated, more refined, more dark and mysterious, more mahogany, than the life I experience (less orange though, usually.) It is the world of Sherlock Holmes and a thousand mystery novels. It is crystal chandeliers, magnifying glasses, fragrant oils, analog, wood and metal, no plastic, urgent skies, reassuring humidity. It is time to think and to write, no hurrying, conversations of truth and beauty, authenticity, and trust. It is the world I believe in, the one I want to make real. But does reality have time enough for this?

Wanton Destruction

My sister had bought a house, and we were packing up her old house (which was on a street similar to our grandparents') so that we could get her moved into the new one. I also lived on this same street - with my parents and grandparents - in a big house that was similar (though not same) to the one that we lived in when I was in high school. My sister's house was across the street and to the left of the house I lived in.

About two houses down from my house to the right was an abandoned house that no one took care of anymore. On this house was a copper awning. My sister decided that she wanted that awning for her new house, and since it was an abandoned house that no one lived in anymore, it would not be such a problem if she took it. So she asked me to help her remove it. I was a bit concerned about this at first, because it seemed to be stealing, but she convinced me that it wasn't a big deal since it was an abandoned house, and I ended up helping her remove it.

When we removed the awning, though, we had to remove what was one of the main support points for the house, and that side of the house collapsed into a mess of bricks. It looked pretty bad :\ We loaded the awning into her car, which was some 80s monstrosity, and got ready to take it to the new place in the morning.

In the morning, I sort of realized that this wasn't a good idea and that we shouldn't have removed that awning from the house. I went to go tell her this, and she had come to the same conclusion herself. There was no way to put it back though now, so I was trying to figure out a solution that would give us the least amount of jail time for Wanton Destruction of Property.

Then the solution came to me in a flash: Wake up! So, I did.

Nightmare: Haunted house

This was one of my nightmares ... :(
WARNING: Spiders are mentioned.

A. and I were building a house. It would be a very beautiful house when it was done. We were walking through it and there was construction stuff and tarps everywhere. And something about it just didn't feel right to me. I thought maybe we should just forget about the house, but we'd bought it, we were paying money for it, so might as well see it through to completion, right? But it still didn't feel right.

I walked into the half-completed bathroom. It would be so luxurious, with a big oval bubble tub and marble and everything. But there were two huge spiders on the ground. You could watch them open and close their pinchers; the pinchers looked like scissors. I had no problem stepping on them and killing them, even though I hate to kill bugs. I was worried that maybe we'd built in the wrong place, that more of these spiders would come... but I didn't want to say anything. Maybe there was pest control.

A. says "Let's look out the front door to see what the front yard looks like." So I walked up to the beautiful oak door and opened it. Outside in the night, two grey and white wolves were staring right at me. And growling. I quickly closed and locked the door, saying "There are WOLVES out there!" But A. had walked into another room by that point.

I started really thinking.. maybe we should not buy this house after all; they never told us about all these dangers here. But it is such a nice house... I hate to do that... But what if it is a haunted house? How can I live in a haunted house? All of a sudden, two strong hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me backwards. I yelled out for A. and for my sister, but no one came.

...I woke up with my heart beating fast and tried very hard to forget this dream but I couldn't.

Running from the mob vs. family obligations

I dreamt that A. and I were in a saloon where there were gang/mafia members. It was kind of like the movie Kaante but with fewer stripper poles and more framed pictures on the walls. And then we saw a gangster get killed right in front of us. So obviously the thing to do at this point was to GTFO.

We left and went to my apartment to pack up some things. Except my apartment was more like one that I lived in when I was in Dallas. I was very concerned because we needed to go into the mountains (where A. had just gotten back from hiking) and I didn't know if I had any synthetic underwear, and definitely didn't have synthetic pants. Cotton just wouldn't do.

I guess my stuff got packed, so we went to his house so we could just repack all the stuff he took camping. The front door of his house led to a hallway, and his room was just right there off the long wall of the hallway. Strange place for a door, but there it was. The room also had its own bathroom and large closet. I went in and started throwing stuff into a backpack. My phone started ringing though and it was my sister. I was too busy to answer, so I just let it ring.

At this point my mom barges into the room and comes up to me very angry. She told me that the last time A. and I were at her house, we smelled horrible and it must come to an end immediately, and what were we going to do about it? I tried to tell her that this could wait, that we had to pack and leave because the gang was going to come after us any minute, but NO. IT COULD NOT WAIT. I said that we would continue to take baths and not eat any beef or pork, and that should fix the problem. "But what's HE going to do?" I looked over at A., who was busy packing and said, "What are you going to do?" Silence was my only response. I just shrugged and said "We're going to eat better and drink more water, ok? Now we have WORK to do." The phone starts ringing again. My mom sees that it's my sister and says, "Look at this. You smell bad AND you ignore your family." and walks out of the room in a huff.

~~Disclaimer: My mom is the coolest, most easygoing person in the whole world and this conversation would NEVER take place in real life!~~