lastnite: a dream journal

Let's do the time warp again

Another dream dealing with weird time issues. I decided that my dream wasn't being "refreshed" (a Windows term that has annoyingly entered my subconscious) often enough. Mari went into the bathroom and heard someone peeing, but didn't see anyone. She was terrified and ran back out into the main room where I was standing. A weird electric sound came from the ventilation ducts and the wallpaper changed to mostly white with large yellow triangles pointing up towards the ceiling. "If you check the bathroom, I'm sure you will find Matt there. We just experienced some sort of hiccup in time." We stood and waited: there was no furniture in the room. Then Matt came out.

Matt and I were in War Machine (an old Suburban). He missed the turn for the Westlink library, and we kept heading north. He stopped War Machine, then told me he couldn't restart it for thirty minutes after it had been turned off. I wondered why he had turned it off in the first place, but I didn't say anything. The back of War Machine was more of a conversion van. We both got out of the car to get into the back. I burst into tears and said, "I just don't want to hurt anymore." Matt got mad for some reason and went fetal, falling asleep on the little table with four cupholders.

I was in the parking lot of a mini-mall. There was a strip club there where no one really stripped much. They had a storefront, but hadn't bothered to frost the windows or black them out. The stage backed onto a large window, and I had the misfortune of seeing some girl's flabby ass. I wondered if she went to my high school back in the day. The lady of the club opened the two doors, and some fully clothed twenty-something in overall shorts played on the theft prevention devices (or metal detectors), splaying her legs for all the world to see her denim crotch. Mom, Dad, several other adults, and I got a 1950s automobile that really was a modern conversion van. We looked out the windows and giant birds, completely out of proportion to the mini-mall, were perched on the roof. We saw puffins, toucans, and other birds with unusual beaks. We turned the corner (left), and I pointed out birds with horns. I couldn't speak very well, and I stumbled over words when I spoke to Mom: "That's what you need, Mom, birds with beerhorns, er, longhorns, just horns. Whatever." We turned again (this time right) and our driver, a Hispanic fellow, spotted a cop car that had pulled someone over in the right lane. He moved into the furthest left lane and said to my father, "They may not pull you over for nothing, sir, but they'll pull me over" in a thick Spanish accent. "Especially with a van full of whites," I added. "And a rifle pointed at them," Mom quipped, and she held up a rifle that she had, I think, located under the seat. Someone dubbed it a "Texas War Weapon."

Randy, Stephanie, and I were loading up Randy's car with merchandise from Sam's. We were on a tree-lined road by a lake; it was somewhat reminiscent of a combination of Godard's Weekend and Henson's The Muppet Movie. There was a red fox in the tree who was scared; it acted a lot like Bogie, an older dog I petsat recently. I pointed it out to Randy, then asked him if he had foxes on the farm. We couldn't fit all of the stuff he bought in his trunk. Some of the things were not great buys: he had a sack that was bulk size, but only had enough pasta in it for one person. The rest of the sack was air. He complained.