I’m invited to a very she-she restaurant for a party/together. I walk up to a table of people and Mel’s there. I look for a chair but there aren’t any at the table. I look around and there are stacks of oddly shaped chairs lying on the ground. They’re plastic, yellow, and have very narrow backs and small seats, held together by chrome bars, but they’re all dirty. I go and ask a group of workers if they’re going to clean a chair for me. They’re in the process of setting up the restaurant for the day and they don’t seem that eager to help me with a chair. I’m not interested in cleaning the chair myself so I go to the bathroom. I’m walking around and actually get kinda lost.
It turns out that the restaurant is huge. I walk into what could be private areas but none of the staff say anything. The restaurant seems to take up a city block and has entrances on each block, each with a different layout, a different cuisine, and a different support staff, but the kitchen for all of them is in the center. When I realize the enormity of the place, it’s amazing. There’s a more corporate area, a buffet area, a party area, a bar area, and everything has a modern Asian flare.
When I get back to the party area with my group, the restaurants are all really kicking after my long walk. They’re getting ready to make an announcement. I notice that almost all of the staff is Asian. One of the women support staff is ready to make an announcement about a new floor manager. She has the command of the attention of all the patrons and she starts talking, but she’s having a really hard time delivering the message. She latches onto me like I’m helping her get the words out and she starts showing me notes that she took to make this announcement as if she wants me to help her make it by piecing her notes together. She’s walking toward the roof and it’s daylight out. The crowd of patrons has followed her and I’m starting to understand what she wants to say and encourage her, but she’s gone off on such a tangent that I’m finding it difficult to figure out a way to steer her back. The girl that is her boss and possibly the one that the speech is about is there, and I can kinda sense a feeling of frustration with the message.
The BarNovember 28th, 2013
It looks like I’m being hired to work in a bar again. It’s been a long time since I have, and the bar looks a lot like The Blue Lagoon. I’m standing in front of the cash register before the bar’s open and testing out my ability to quickly ring up sales and poor drinks, trying to get my bearings on what I’ll be doing. Michael and another guy are there working with me. The bar’s not open yet and we’re stocking and getting ready for the day.
I find myself in another room with a line of people. I walk over to a counter top near a mirror or something. I can’t recall what happens there but afterward find myself outside on the street, naked. I find out at this point that the bar is a rooftop bar and I need to climb a sort of fire escape contraption to get back up to the rooftop bar. I guess that all three of us are naked and maybe that’s how we’re going to work there. It’s not a big deal tho; I’m not ashamed of anything. I start making my way up the stairway/fire escape contraption.
I’m a member of a royal family. Our family has vampire blood running though it for a number of generations. A friend of mine who has a daughter also has vampire blood running through him but he is not of royal descent. He’s come to me because he has a health problem and he wants help. We’re talking and I tell him that the only way he can be cured is to be buried in the ground. He complains that I don’t have to be buried in the ground but I remind him that I have royal blood which apparently makes me very healthy.
We go and dig a hole tall enough to stand in. He and his daughter, and a couple of others are standing in the hole, but the friend has a martini glass. I tell him that he can’t be buried with the martini. He’s worried about being buried and not having more alcohol to consume. I tell him that he has to make a choice between being buried and getting better, or having sauce. His decision.
I’m in a metropolitan area, meeting Andy and another woman on a street corner. They want to take me somewhere. We get in a car and drive to a frontage road next to a major freeway. There are houses that I’m looking at as we drive along. We get to a large cement coloured, stucko’d home, two stories tall, with a gigantic oak tree in front. There are car ports underneath a huge veranda where the tree is, and the entrances are to it are archways. There are love seats built into the branches of the oak tree. It’s really an awesome design but it look a little unkempt. I mention this to them and as it turns out, this where we’re heading. I think the woman with Andy lives there.
We go inside. It’s probably the most exotic place I’ve ever been. It’s obviously a musicians hangout because nearly every room has music equipment, but it also seems like it’s owned by somewhen who knows their lighting and electrical really well because every room is set up with beautiful lighting. There are amazing draperies, tapestries, rugs, and cloths from Asia everywhere. You really can’t see any wall space because everything it covered with them. There is very low furniture in most every room with pillows on every floor. It looks like a sheikh’s tent. There are lots of people in every room, and the place seems to be endless large room, one after another, each with a slightly different culture to it.
At last, I’m standing with Andy in a particular room and get some info from her, tho I don’t recall what, and I turn to leave. I’m trying to remember my way out and happen upon a room with about 6 giant tv screens. It’s the most modern of all rooms, and there’s a central controller to all the tvs, and a guy controlling the broadcast of a game on about 4 of them. I walk thru that room and end up in what looks like my grandmother’s house, except that it’s been made into a quasi office space. I’m on some sort of mission there. I walk down the hallway to speak to a guy whose office is that direction and as I pass the bathroom, he’s taking a leak without having closed the door. I pass by and door closes behind me as he realizes what he’s done. I wait in the hall for him until he comes out. He’s a heavy set man, probably in his late 40′s with a reddish, receding hair line. He explains to me that there are different parts of the world that need the message I’m going to send out. He points into the kitchen as drawers that contain the info on each country that I need to connect with. He’s speaking of things that I don’t know a lot about, and I’m having difficulty piecing it all together but I get the gist of the task at hand.
Hot SauceNovember 24th, 2013
I’m walking thru a large Mexican restaurant at around lunch time. There’s a huge buffet being set out. There are enormous trays filled with chicken breasts interspersed with onions and leafy greens. There are trays of slabs of beef, and carnitas, and I see a huge plate made in the shape of a sombrero filled with pinto beans. I’m thinking that this is one of the most fantastic buffets I’ve ever seen but there’s hardly anyone in the restaurant.
I go over to a table and the people there don’t have any hot sauce. I ask them if they’d like some Tapatio and they do, but I look around and don’t see any. I walk into the bar and there on the bar is a bottle that’s mostly full so I ask the bar tender, who’s a short, clean shaven Mexican man in his 50′s. I ask him if I can have the hot sauce on the bar and he says, “No.” I say, “Please.” He says, “No.” I just can’t figure out why this guy won’t let me have this bottle unless it truly is the last one…
I remember being in the darkness, staying in a baby blue VW bus. I can kind of make out a candle burning with very little light. There’s something peaceful about it. We’re traveling somewhere tho I’m not sure where. The next day, I’m climbing over other cars like they’re all packed to together on train flatbeds. I’m trying to make it back to the bus which is complicated. I have a medallion like the biogeometry medallion. I know that it radiates outward 6 feet. I barely make it to the bus and Kevin is there with a couple guys I don’t know. I walk up on put him onto a mattress that’s lying behind him; my way of saying hello. I haven’t seen him in a day or two and wonder where’s he’s been. Reminds me of when we were together and he’d do something similar and it was like he didn’t care.
GearsNovember 18th, 2013
I’m a young girl with long blonde hair. I’m maybe 12 or 13 years old, and I’m being moved from one place to another by someone who I think is my mom and a man whom I don’t know. I have a large duffle bag and a smaller bag with me that I dragging along on the street as we walk. Even tho I don’t know the man, I have a strange feeling about him that I can’t put my finger on. He’s trying to help me, but underneath, there’s a threat.
We’re standing at a street corner and we’re waiting for a light. I feel that there isn’t much time to move me to the new location so I’m confused why he insists that we stay on the corner thru an entire changing of the street light while other pedestrians cross. I sit down on my duffle bag to take a load off my feet and wait for the next round of lights to change. Suddenly, I’m pulled with my bags into some sort of combination of elevator, pulleys, stamps, and gear mechanisms. All of the steel gears and mechanisms are huge and I’m be moved this way and that, challenged to keep my balance and hold onto my bags. The gears and stamps are so large that I’m afraid I’ll be crushed. No sooner do I find a place that seems safe to position myself that I find another bar or shifting of stamp platforms is throwing me into harm’s way. The gears are churning and I’m barely hanging onto my bags with one hand while holding onto the only place that seems safe, but knowing that this last refuge on a platform is getting smaller and smaller and falling into an abyss is that last place to go.
I’m heading off to a new school. I’m not sure what kind of program it is, but we’re going to be taking a van or bus of some sort and where with our parents and teachers, getting ready to leave. I’m probably in my late teens or early twenties. My mom has brought me a bunch of boxes of Christmas decorations. Although the decorations are really cool and there are a couple of simple things I’d like to use to decorate to make me feel more at home, there are WAY too many of them. I tell this to Brad, and I’m trying to be cordial in telling my Mom, but she’s really sensitive and I’m having a hard time telling her. The other students don’t have nearly as many boxes as I do and I’m trying to explain to her that there just isn’t enough room on the bus/van to move this stuff and that there are other students that have things that need to be moved on our trip.
Truckin’November 15th, 2013
I’m driving an old pickup and on my way to the parts store that I always go to. I’m expecting to see Robert just like I did when I had my mini. I drove down the street where the shop is but somehow missed it. I decide to drive around the back and come in thru the alley but when I get to the end, there are blue poles stuck in the ground right where the street is and the alley ends so that I can’t enter the street. I put the truck in reverse because I’m going to have to back out of the alley because there’s nowhere to turn around. I realize that my mirrors are completely out of adjustment so I can’t see really well. I take a couple of moment to adjust the mirrors and back out of the alley. I pull around the front again and realize that the truck shop is now a completely different business. I know it’s been awhile since I’ve been here but now I’m wondering what happened. Across the street is another auto mechanic and parts shop so I go over there to see if I can get some info. The man who’s running the place is helping a beautiful blonde woman and isn’t ready to pay attention to me but he’s giving directions to her for another shop she needs to go to so I’m listening to see if there’s a connection.
Mel and I are in an airport far too early for our flight. I think we book the flight but don’t really know what our flight times are. I here a gate call for our flight and walk over to the gate but I look around and Mel isn’t there. I ask a flight person about where our flight is and she says 7:20pm. I look at my clock and it’s only 5:40pm. I realize that I have a great position in line but I want to know where Mel is so I leave the area and try calling him on the cell but I only get voice mail. I’m concerned that he’s mad at me for leaving him somewhere.