Late and Muddy

I had to get ready for an interview, so I was running home. I ran across this muddy field in my boots, and the mud splashed up all over me. When I got home, I realized the people who were going to be interviewing me weren't going to be coming to my house, I had to go to them, and it was supposed to start in 20 minutes. I couldn't skip showering, because I had gotten all muddy. I ran upstairs. One of my best friends was there. She told me she wanted to take a shower. I realized that would work out fine, because there was a shower where the bedroom closet was supposed to be, as well as a shower in the attached bathroom. I tried to shut and lock the door. It didn't stay. I inspected it closer, and realized there was no hole drilled into the door jamb for it to latch into. Luckily there was a hook latch at the top of the door. I realized there was still no way I would make it to the interview on time, since I had to go back across that muddy field and up a big hill.

My sister's place, Italy

I was visiting my sister somewhere in the world. I had been swimming somewhere early in the morning, so when I came back I decided to take a shower. It was in the middle of the room, and suddenly people started coming in, so I grabbed my towel and went in the next room to dry off. When I came back, Some of my personal items had gotten left out on the floor, and some guys were laughing and asking me what they were for. I told them they were for my shoes, to make the soles more cushiony. They didn't seem like they believed me, but left it at that.

I was walking up a grassy alley, coming to my sister's again, and I noticed a whole bunch of easel's with sale tags sitting out, and realized that there was an art store on the other side. I went around to go look at the store, and bumped into some of my sister's friends. They wouldn't let me continue on to my sister's place, because supposedly she was coming down to meet them here. We went into a coffee shop/bakery. I was going to get a little scone, and I looked behind the counter and saw these little containers of tea and realized I was in Florence, Italy. Noone was talking in Italian though, and I realized that you really didn't need to worry about knowing Italian in Florence. This girl was buying my tea for me, but didn't want to buy my scone. She was stuttering trying to explain what kind of coffee she wanted, I tried to help her out, and the girl behind the counter says, "Oh, ok, we call that a gym coffee" I say in Italian "Hai?" or "You have that?" She stares at me for a minute, and then says "Yeah."

She brings out the gym coffee, and I tell her "Grazie." Then it is my turn. I am ordering a blackberry shake all of a sudden. She enters purple on her little ordering screen, and tells the guy behind the counter that purple will mean grape flavor this time. I know it's not what I want, but I don't bother correcting her. I am more focused on the fact that I have two ice cream cones in my purse- a sugar cone, and one shaped more like a cake cone. I am wondering whether they will take them for part of the payment, and if so, how much money they would give me for them.

From Art Show Stardom to War Refugee

Somehow, I got chosen last minute to do a gallery show along with a real life artist friend of mine, Hadley. First, the gallery owner, we'll call her Sally, was playing the piano, and Hadley and I were to sing along. I didn't manage to, due to a phlegmy throat, and had to explain that I had some sugar earlier that made me phlegmy. Then Sally briefly goes through my portfolio of artworks with me to discuss which ones won't go up. I choose a few pieces that aren't as good, and there are a dozen left, which sounds good to both of us.

Next thing you know, the three of us are shopping at the mall together. The gallery owner lets us know we have to leave in about 15 minutes, so we can get ready for the show. Hadley starts running down the stairs, so we leave right away. When we get back to the gallery, I notice the only paintings on the wall are some encaustics, which are nailed to the walls. We are supposed to be getting ourselves ready, but Sally still has to hang the show.

I have to take a shower to get ready, so I pull my clothes out of my dresser and go look for a shower. First I see a showerhead in a back room, but it opens up into the gallery. There is a curtain there, which I pull across so that people wouldn't be able to see me as I shower. As I close it, I notice there are a couple men in the gallery- the opening must be starting already. Why are we so behind?

Then I notice that behind me the gallery turns into a house (which looks like it hasn't been updated since the 70's), and there is a bathroom with a real shower. Next to that there is another room with just a shower. I go in there, so that other people can still use the toilet. The entry to the shower was so tight, I could barely squeeze through. Then I noticed that it rolled open more if you pushed it right.

As I was showering, there were some models hanging out. I figured there must be a fashion show at the opening. The models tried to give me a little bottle of something to wash up with, but I recognized it as something bad for skin, (like a hair remover?), with a faint memory of some commercial it was in. Then Hadley was there, holding her violin, and I remembered that we were supposed to play some songs on the violin at the opening. I said, "Oh no! What songs are we playing? I forgot! Do you have the sheet music?" I figured I could learn them really quickly if she had the music. Hadley doesn't seem to notice my distress and says, "Well there's the Bach concerto, and that other song. You're supposed to know them."

I finish my shower real quick, and then there is a young man sitting in there on a stool. I don't know how long he's been there, and I figure why bother covering up, if he's already seen me. He tells me he has a note from my mom, saying that I should have sex with someone to get that "special glow" so that people will like me, and I'll have a better chance of becoming famous. She claims a statistic that people are liked 70% better if they have recently had sex. He's not trying to pressure me into sex, just matter-of-fact reports to me what is in the note. I have a sense that there is a man in my life, who isn't there as an option to have sex with. I reply something to this man, and he says, "Oh, you're from Indiana?" like he's from there too.

Suddenly, he and I are in a field, dressed in army clothes, surrounded by other couples also in army clothes, and spaced in a grid formation. There is some kind of exercise/drill about who has "the power" in the couple. Some men are holding down their women partners. I decide he doesn't have "the power" over me, and we got up and walked away. I noticed one woman holding her guy up by a noose, and thought, "Wow, she really has 'the power!'".

We are walking across a huge field to leave. I hear the scene being narrated, as if it were a movie. All of a sudden, some really old fashioned cars come driving towards us. We try to avoid them and start running. We don't want to be caught by whoever is in these cars. Then a barrage of military airplanes start coming down towards the field. With the wind of the airplanes, we are having a hard time making any progress running across the field, and the distance to the hedge at the edge of it seems to only get further.

Suddenly, we are in a building. It is shaking from the airplanes as well- you have to be careful when you move if you don't have anything to hold onto. I see some people get in an elevator- it drops down really fast, before the doors even close. There was one more stairway down before a door to the exit. We make it out there.

Next thing, I am sitting in the back of a pickup truck with several other people, and I am holding a baby. The young man is looking for me, calling me his wife. In my head, I wonder when that happened, and think well, if we're married, we must have had sex after all, and then, there is this baby. He is looking for a ride for us to get out of that war-occupied area. I tell him get in this truck, I have a seat for you, and it's hard for me to move because of the baby.

He gets in and sits next to me. The truck takes off right away. He decides he will be more comfortable sitting across from me, on the tailgate, which is down but has a backrest. Somewhere around this point, I realize he has become my real-life husband. My legs are straight out, resting on the tailgate. There are several loaves of bread in the middle. One falls through the gap between the truck and the tailgate. My husband and the man next to him decide they are hungry. We hit a bump, and my legs separate a little, allowing another loaf of bread to fall through. We all think, "Uh-oh, how long does this bread have to last us for food?" but nobody complains out loud about the dropped bread, because there is nothing to do about it anymore. My husband and the other man take out a loaf of french bread and begin to eat hunks of it.