Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Journal of Mundane Neurotic Dreams

The past few nights I've been dozing off to a meditation CD of bells and having these dreams. Not quite fantastic, but a Chekhovian, Woodie Allen short movies with a mixture of Fellini. I don't quite know what these dreams signify but I might as well write them down and wait until more is revealed. Maybe someone has insight into the meanings here?

Dream #1: I'm in Publix purchasing chocolate frosting and gum. I'm wearing a suit and overcoat. It's raining outside. 

I'm at the counter and the clerk ignore me. Throwing a mini-fit, I toss the frosting container on counter. I apologize and explain I'm stressed. I lie and says I'm being laid off from my job, which I know isn't true. She says she's stressed and her father lost his job. We both end up crying. She tells me to pay what I want for both the frosting and gum. I hand her $1 and ask if that's enough. She nods. I hand her $3, slip frosting and gum into my jacket and exit out of automatic doors. 

All of a sudden I'm wearing a jogging outfit.  There are a bunch of friends from grad school sitting in concrete park of skateboard ramps and beside a long row of benches. I'm wearing some sort of sweatpants capri hoodie. Engage in stupid conversation. Start talking about art.  

Dream #2: I'm flying out of NYC with a friend we're put up in an extremely fancy hotel and the presidential suite which is as long as an arena with enormous Sultan size beds with mountains of pillows and fans. No walls just bed after bed. I'm informed that I'll be charged $200. Annoyed but I'm also worried that I might be at the wrong hotel. We're sharing this enormous room with an elderly couple who are excited to talk with me. The woman notices the jewelry I'm wearing and wants to know more about my sources. I tell her I get my jewelry from two main sources: Beds of Paradise in Union Square and another place I can't remember. I agree to get some jewelry and become her trader. 

My anxiety increases that I'm supposed to be near LaGuardia. Anxious, begin looking up flight # and try to use smartphone. Every time I begin to look up jetblue I get diverted into a cinematic ad that takes several minutes and can't be deleted. I try to remember the phone number for Jet Blue. 

My roommate/friend comes back from a night out on the town with a bunch of friends who are loud. Our presidential suite is suddenly small, a normal size room. I leave the room and decide to move to a different hotel. I end up at another hotel but I still can't figure out what flight I'm supposed to get on. 

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