Since the technology for recording dreams isn’t an app yet, I had a great idea. I’d find photos to help me show you what goes on in my head. Let me know what you think. And check out the links under the captions. Could be fun!
Dream, September 18th, 2014:
I stand at the entrance of a noisy and crowded fish and chips diner and wave to a group of old friends I recognize. As I approach their table, they all turn around and stare at me. Did it suddenly get quiet in here?
Like a bunch of grade school kids, they begin to tease one of the guys at their table, “Hey Brian. Look.” They point to me. “Look, it’s your girlfriend. It’s your girlfriend.” Brian shrinks down in his chair as they spray him in the face with water from their straws. I say in his defense, “I was never his girlfriend. We were just friends.” Are they even listening to me?
Chris, the one who instigated the teasing, turns to me as and says, “There is no room at the table here for you. You are going to have to wait till we leave.” I go outside and look through the window. They are laughing and talking as if I had never been there. I feel like I am in Jr High again.
They leave so I go back in. The place is empty of customers. There are dirty dishes and napkins cluttering all the tables and only one young is man cleaning up. When he sees me, he goes behind the cash register and asks politely if he can take my order. I see his eyes glance around the room and he says, “Sorry about the mess but we are short-handed.” I ask if I can help, and he smiles and says in a semi-joking manner, “Yeah, if you like to do dishes.” I smile back and order my food.
While exploring the back hall for a place to wash my hands, I discover the building is attached to a hospital. This diner is the hospital’s cafeteria? Weird. I find a sink in the back kitchen and, he wasn’t kidding, it is plied with dishes. Poor guy. So I clean up all the dishes that are stacked there.
I see a restroom down the back hall. There are only two stalls and no one is in here. I go into the smaller stall and this toilet seat has three toilet lids. Normally there are two, the top cover and the seat, but his one has a third middle small one, like a toddler size hole. I lift it and it is filthy with brown smudges, not to mention it also looks like someone bled on the seat. It is disgusting. So I hurriedly back out of there and go into the larger handicap stall. It is much cleaner.
I hear a small choir in the next room rehearsing: singing a song about the ocean. They are pronouncing waves in a weird way. It sounds like weaves or we-aves. I leave the restroom and I poke my head around the door of their room. There are about 5 or 6 people standing in a corner in a haphazard semicircle facing out with one person facing them. I assume he is the director. The group has their heads all tucked down reading their sheet music as they sing. They are not paying any attention to the director. I have the urge to tell them that they are singing the word incorrectly, but I resist. It probably isn’t appropriate for me to interrupt them.
I reenter the diner and my fish and fries are waiting for me at the same table where my old friends had been sitting, but the table has been cleaned off. I am now the only one in the room. I eat. The young man comes back so I go to pay my bill. He asks me if I am the one who did the dishes. I tell him I am. He says they are hiring and wants to know if I want to work there. They need someone to fill in here and there, odd jobs where ever it is needed, it could be stocking shelves, or dishes, or helping in the hospital. I would need to buy a uniform and I would need to wear a back support. I say I will take the job. He recalculates my bill with the added supplies I will need and it comes to $188. I wonder why there are two back braces listed on it.
I go out to my car and head to my dad’s house about ¼ mile away and get some money. I am visiting him in Southern California for an extended stay. Driving back to the diner, I say to myself, “I have a job. I actually have a job! It is so close I can almost walk. And no matter how much I love Northern California weather, I guess I am meant to be down here because this is where the job is.” I suddenly notice how hot it is in the car and roll down the window. I hate LA weather.
My car approaches the street where the diner is and there are now cones blocking some areas. A lot of cars are parked along the road and people are getting out and walking down an unpaved dirt street to the left of me. They are all wearing, what appears to be, Halloween costumes.
A man wearing an orange vest is directing people, so I pull the car up next to him and tell him I am lost. He says the costume party is down there, and points with a flag. I tell him I am not going to a party. I am trying to find the hospital. He seems surprised, but tells me I just need to keep going forward.
I pull into the hospital parking lot and as I get out of the car I hear the workers excitedly talking about the Halloween party: what they are going to wear, and who they are going to be. They ask me if I am going. I say, “I’m invited?” And they tell me yes. Everyone in the hospital is going to go. I have no idea what I could wear. My stuff is all in northern California.
They tell me that Danno is going as a race car driver because he just bought a new toy, a little child’s size Ferrari. I hear an electric motor behind me and turn to see a guy with long curly blondish hair looking like an 80’s Peter Frampton, driving a child’s yellow convertible sports car, his knees bent up to his chest so he can fit in the seat. I hear his co-workers laugh. He pulls in and yells, “It’s making some funny noise. I need to have a look at the motor.”
I walk over to his car. “This is really cool,” I say. Maybe I should have said/sung, “Ooh baby I love your car.” It is obviously second hand: a dirty looking yellow hard plastic with an interesting gray grid overlay design. The plastic has gotten stained over the years. I say “This isn’t a Ferrari. It’s a Corvette Stingray.”
He says, “Of course it is a Stingray. Who told you it was a Ferrari?” and starts to pop of the body outer shell so he can get to the motor. It comes off in two pieces. He starts to talk to me about the technical aspects of the motor and how it works and that it can go 30 miles an hour, “Which feels really fast when you are in a tiny little car.” And he mentions it being 800 watts or something like that, which is way out of my knowledge base, so I start to tune him out.
I pick up one of the shell pieces which looks somewhat like a surf board, and say, “You know, this is made really well. It’s not a cheap thing. How much did this cost you?” And he says, “Oh, yeah, everyone thinks it was really cheap, like a hundred bucks, because it’s a plastic toy.” And I say to him, “Yeah people say similar things to me when they see my electric car.”
He tells me it cost him a couple thousand. But of course he is also paying for the name. It had the Corvette logo on it. And it is a vintage toy. I say, “Hey, you want me to wash this off while you work on the motor? I can take it back into the kitchen.” Since I had finished all the dishes before I left, I figure I will use the nice big empty sink. He tells me that will be great.
I am back in the kitchen with these big yellow plastic pieces, and low and behold, there is a pile of dishes. What? I just did them. I realize it is from that choir group. So I clean those dishes. Now I can work on the Stingray. I get some Ajax and put it on a sponge and am very careful to not damage the gray grid pattern as I wash the stained yellow plastic. This is going to be really cool when it is all done.
Aurora Time ends…
Okay, it’s open for dream interpretation. I have a few ideas, but I’d like to hear from you first. Have you ever had a dream with any of these symbols in them?