Sunday, February 05, 2012

Dream - The landlady, the prediction, the tall can of Coke, and the last time there

On Thursday, February 17, 2011, around 4:30-7:20 AM, I dreamed I was in Nevada in rooms I rented. It was the middle of the night. I was walking around. There was a big bed sideways near big windows with blinds and/or curtains, near the front door which was to the right of the windows, as viewed from inside.

I walked to the right, to the big living room. It had a big structure like a salad bar without food, a cloudy plastic cover on top. Lower down under a broad shelf was a big container of water all across the bottom. It had been slowly filling up due to a drip. I had forgotten to dump the water for a while, and it was now full. There was a pink plastic rectangular tub, like from the hospital, floating in it. I reached down and got it and dumped some of the water into a huge ceramic drain near the window, partly hidden behind the curtains. It had its own tub to be dumped, but it was only partly full. I might have dumped another tub's worth from the big water thing in the room. I had already dumped several from somewhere in the bedroom, walking in the bedroom holding the tub, in my underwear. I had earlier been in bed trying to sleep.

I heard outside a couple, perhaps in their twenties or thirties. They had a room to the left, as determined from the inside. They were taking things out and putting them in their car, finally leaving. It seems the woman was in a little bit of a huff.

Then I realized that the window was fully uncovered, the blinds up and the curtain drawn and pulled up and/or back, and the door fully open, with just the screen door closed and hooked, I had been walking around in my underwear and they probably saw me. I couldn't understand how I had gotten so sloppy, even leaving the front door open when I had been trying to sleep. It wasn't safe. In actuality, though I didn't think of it, earlier in the dream everything had been shut.

A man came in who it seems was a roommate, though I hadn't been aware of one earlier. He was tall and had dark hair. Talking to him, I wandered back to the living room and reached under the broad shelf, but instead of the water there was cushioned vinyl with a big pack of papers, and there was also a tall, tall can of Coke, maybe a foot and a half long, slightly thinner than normal, and straight all the way up and down. The sides bent easily, and it didn't feel tight like an unopened can normally would. The papers and Coke were left by the landlady, a little gray-haired woman slightly overweight. I opened the Coke and started drinking it. The top was bent a little and bulged up on one edge, and I wondered if it leaked a little. The man stared at me. We wandered around and continued talking, going further in to another big room behind the bedroom.

The landlady showed up and started explaining about the papers, taking them and unrolling a somewhat flattened, big, simple, line-drawing map of Nevada, and talking about earthquakes. Then she took a much bigger paper and unrolled it to a huge map of most of the US. There was still a lot to be looked at, and she started unfolding the other papers. There was some text and some tall columns. tables, of figures. She didn't seem to be getting to the point very well. Whatever she was trying to tell me she said had happened before, years ago, and came in cycles.

We had wandered to the room to the side, and I saw a few big fat spiders on the wall. I finally mentioned them and she said to kill them, they're poisonous. I think I did make an effort to hit them with something, maybe a book.

We went back to the other room. Some young people had shown up and were talking with each other. They were other tenants, in rooms further back. I saw a long spiderweb from the ceiling, like a narrow funnel, long tapering point up. It had several spiders on it, maybe three feet from the floor. They were the same size as the others, but thinner and grayer. I finally pointed them out to the woman.

At some point I got a second tall can of Coke. It seemed that it was May, on the edge of summer. It was getting toward dawn now, but still dark. The young people were getting ready to leave. I had to get ready to go to work soon.

I didn't know if I was going to continue this, to keep coming out here. I didn't really have the money and they didn't pay me. Maybe I should say something, ask them to, that if they want me to keep coming out they should pay me. On the other hand I had simply been doing it, without asking, even going in without a badge, the guard at the gate cheerfully waving me on through. I had been at work earlier in the dream, had sometimes even seen my boss, and though he looked at me I don't know if he said anything to me. I should just give this up and stop coming. I didn't have the money to keep doing it, in fact I didn't really have much money at all. Could I afford to give this up though, to give up the money from it if I didn't have another good source? But then I realized I wasn't getting money from it anyway, it was just an expense. It didn't matter if I stopped, I wouldn't lose anything.

I realized this was probably my last trip, that I wouldn't be back. It seemed sad. The landlady was still talking. She had gone to so much trouble telling me this, and getting the papers, though she had probably done this for all the tenants, and she had given me the Cokes, an award for something a few months ago, at a picnic, and although it still wasn't clear exactly what she was trying to say, she had spent a long time at it. Now I might never find out what it was, if I said I was leaving, and I would disappoint her too. She would miss me.

I started to say something about it, but I only got out a little. She started cheerfully talking about something that happened or would happen, in October I think. I couldn't think what month it was now. I tried to think of it while she talked on, and I finally said, jokingly, a little in desperation, "What month is it? I don't know, maybe it's October now."

It seems there was more later, but it may have been another dream. I can't think of it right now.

Labels: , , ,


Post a Comment

<< Home

Newer Posts . . . . Older Posts