I’m at a men’s gathering. I’m in a room preparing a very nice salad. I’m thinking about Kirby and that I’ve left him with this other guy and wondering if he’s ok with that. I haven’t seen them in a while. I turn to do something and accidentally fling the salad bowl onto the floor and salad goes everywhere. I ask the guy sitting next to me if he saw how that happened because I didn’t see a thing. He just kind of shrugs. I start picking up the salad from the floor. I’m deciding whether I’m going to eat it in spite of it being picked from the floor because it’s such a beautiful salad. A guy I know comes in and he’s really tall. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and no pants and he has his junk in his hand. He starts talking to me then tells me he’s going to go do something but he’s putting his hands in the air and almost hitting the ceiling fan. I tell him he should be careful. I go into the kitchen to find something to clean up the floor and a fork. There are no forks anywhere. I do find a rag.

Felt frustrated and upset about the salad. Felt insecure about Kirby.

I’ve taken on some sort of job working in a shop. The shop is run by some African American guy who also seems to be an importer of “other” goods. There are lots of African imports of clothing, masks, jewelry, etc. There’s another guy working there that I know. We get taken out to have a conversation about what we talk about in the shop. He makes it clear that he doesn’t want any talk about anything that’s too fringe. He doesn’t want customers freaking about. I tell him that I never talk about anything too fringe, but if one were to look me up online, you’d easily find something controversial about me. And when I get my book released, it may push things over the edge about me. He’s not too worried about it. He indicates that we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. We go back inside. The phone rings. It’s for me. It’s a client who wants to talk. The timing’s not good for me. I can see him in my mind’s eye. He’s a silver-haired psychiatrist. I know he has patients so I ask if he can call me between 12-1 for a lunch break. He says that’s perfect.

Air of drug importing or something shady going on. The shop is cool. Not sure why I’m working there.

I walking into what looks like a business, a large shop, multi-level. I’m with someone who has a dog, and another person. There’s a large hole in the floor in the middle of a large room. It’s yellow around the outside as if it’s had sulfur dug from it. It’s pretty obvious but when the person with the dog gets too close, the dog doesn’t realize what it is. The dog is like a chihuahua and something mix. Twice the size of the average chihuahua but the same color and features. It’s jumping up and down and accidentally jumps right down the hole. I run over to look and the dog’s still alive at the bottom, a good 40 feet down, in a pool of liquid, and it’s treading. We need to save the dog. I look around and there’s another room like an auditorium with high ceilings. I go in there and see some rafters that have beams, and on the beams is a very long white rope braided into an interesting configuration and attached to the support beams of the ceiling. I immediately get an idea to create loops at each end of the rope and lower them down and loop them around the two sets of legs of the dog and hoist him up. We’d put a beam across the hole and use that as part of the hoist. Two of us could hold the bean in place while the middle of the rope wraps around the third person and they simply walk away from the hole using their whole body to pull the dog out. I jump up to the rafters and pull myself up and start unfastening the rope from the rafters. I can feel the rafter in my hand when I wake up.

Feel rescue-like. I stay in the design of the dream thinking about the plan. Also curious about the hole. Wondering if that’s a body part or what??