The dream began in a deli/luncheonette, dilapidated, in a suburban setting. I was there with faceless friends. An elderly black man came in selling wind-up toys unlike any I'd seen. They lit up in soft neon, shuffled slowly and moved their arms up and down. The hawker was desperate to sell something but couldn't get anyone in my group to buy. I was very intrigued by the toys and wanted to hear the price. He left before I could ask him to elaborate.
Somehow I followed him and came to an industrial area near a railroad station. He had set up a kind of flea-market where many interesting things were available, mostly toys. I liked what I saw and was planning to make a purchase when a constable of some sort came along and starting running the hawker out of town.
The photo is of me and my brother (left to right) with a fiberglas ape at South Of The Border, 1973. Note the red Chrysler Newport and cream Ford Galaxie. We bought fireworks and shot them off in the woods next to a motel in Florida.
The dream began in a deli/luncheonette, dilapidated, in a suburban setting. I was there with faceless friends. An elderly black man came in selling wind-up toys unlike any I'd seen. They lit up in soft neon, shuffled slowly and moved their arms up and down. The hawker was desperate to sell something but couldn't get anyone in my group to buy. I was very intrigued by the toys and wanted to hear the price. He left before I could ask him to elaborate.
Somehow I followed him and came to an industrial area near a railroad station. He had set up a kind of flea-market where many interesting things were available, mostly toys. I liked what I saw and was planning to make a purchase when a constable of some sort came along and starting running the hawker out of town.
In the midst of all this I noticed that the hawker was no longer an elderly black man but P. in a black leather motorcycle jacket, like she wore. I followed her to the edge of a road leading out of town as the constable berated her, warning her, "Don't come back or there'll be trouble!", etc. My faceless friends and I waited until he was gone and then we were back where the flea-market had been. Now we were inside some kind of factory building. It'd been converted into a living space and was very large inside with low ceilings and long, wide halllways. I walked down one hallway to a large room next to a kitchen where P. had set all of her items for sale. I had this feeling she was ignoring me or was too busy for me. A crowd grew outside. Somehow the word had gotten out and the whole town came down, including friends of mine (one I recognized was T.).
Everyone milled about and I felt on the edge of the scene, unable to participate, and moved back to the kitchen where I placed a glass in a divided sink and turned the faucet on. When some people stuck a cooler in the right hand side of the sink, the glass fell and broke. Then a large water cooler bottle on top of the refrigerator rolled off and broke in two. The bottle was empty and made of tinted plastic.
I tried to rejoin the sale in the main area but was once again unable to reach P. or talk to her. She was busy selling items and had a wad of cash in her left hand. I went exploring the house and starting wondering what would become of it once she was gone. I wanted to ask someone if the place would be available but I didn't get around to it. Most of the windows were boarded up from the inside and not much natural light got in. The light was nice, though, comforting and warm - like a fireplace was burning somewhere.
I looked through some cracked windows into an interior space that seemed to be a another room and noticed a dog and two cats. Through another window, into a small room, I saw two small giraffes. They morphed into tigers with orange undercoats, white bellies and stripes. There were two small lions sprawled behind the giraffe/tigers.
I again tried to re-join the action in the main room but it seemed to be winding down. I had an overwhelming desire to talk to P., ask when she was leaving and so on but I still couldn't get to her. I remember making an announcement that people should buy up and leave before the constable came back. I finally got near P. and she was remarking that she had made nearly $300 dollars. She was happy and I had no more to say so I left.
In the large, wide hallway I got into a Frisbee game with someone from where I work. It was this guy G. We played with plastic plates. After a short time I went outside. I remember feeling that the apartment belonged to a friend of mine named C. I crossed over railroad tracks and followed a group of people past some bleachers full of people who seemed to be waiting for a train. The group I was following included one guy in a black leather jacket who talked about me as if I weren't there. He mentioned a visit I had apparently paid to my father where I tried to convince him that I loved P. I tried to get this guy to notice me because I felt he was just about to proclaim his love for P. The group turned and looked at me with utter contempt and continued on.
I went back to the factory building, across the railroad tracks and when I got there it was nighttime. There was a large group outside, new arrivals, trying to get in. Two very drunk Frenchmen were pounding the door, determined to get inside. The tall Frenchman was very menacing and I tried to get him to sit down so I could get inside. He eventually did and I walked to the door, knocked and quietly said, "P.?"
The door opened but it seemed no one was there. I walked in followed by the Frenchmen and the rest of the crowd. The tall Frenchman went to the refrigerator in search of a drink. I went and found P. who was no longer P. but a friend of mine named J. I warned her about the angry Frenchman and told her to call the police. She was going to do so when she recognized the tall Frenchman and they embraced like old friends. I felt foolish.
The dream ended and I woke up agitated.
WHAT DOES IT MEAN? WHERE'S YOUR DREAM? E-mail [email protected] or post a comment here.
dude, this is the dream that made me realize that symbolism in dreams is bunk: I was in a catholic church (I'm not catholic), and it was for a funeral. There was a large crowd of mourners, and I was sitting in a row of pews craning my neck to see the casket. People were very upset, and their grief was contagious.
suddenly, there was movement from the coffin. the sobbing stopped suddenly, but its echo hung in the air. then, the body began to slowly sit up in the casket. the mourners panicked and began running, but I couldn't move and sat transfixed. slowly, slowly...now the former corpse was upright and began to turn and face the quickly emptying room. I still sat there, unable to look away as the corpse locked eyes with me, revealing that he was in fact...Tommy Smothers of The Smothers Brothers.
Posted by: sid bators | January 26, 2006 at 01:52 AM
Whenever I see that sombrero logo all I can think of is my father picking up some firecrackers for us at South of the Border around 1970, on his return trip from South Carolina where he and his two sisters all went for some new false teeth. My mother was convinced that he was sitting in a gin mill somewhere instead, and bitched about him and my aunts ("those whores") the whole time. He was back 2 days after he left with bumper stickers and the firecrackers for us kids, and a whole new way to eat corn -- no more cutting it off the cob and mashing it with a fork!
Posted by: Dale Hazelton | January 26, 2006 at 12:33 PM