GA's DJ

07.07.2010

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Entering the basement of an old country style shop I see oak shelves, vinyl records, cassette and DVDs lined everywhere for sale. I slip into a side room where famous actress Uzuki Yashiro (her appearance is that from the TWEWY video game) who shied away from technology but still used a message board service. She had a rare copy of one of the movies she played in and wanted to trade it for some other rare type of media. I later found out that just about everything there had to be traded for and couldn't be purchased with cash. Beyond all logic I wind up with the rare movie. Thinking nothing of it I leave again into the main area.

A cowboy kind of guy had a towel on the ground had stacked up about fifty copies of a limited edition CD featuring Trace Adkin's "Muddy Water". I recall it being a black flip-open kind of case with bright colored writing. He had a customer on the other end of the towel who placed two CDs down wanting to trade. I recall being shocked because the two CDs were super valuable. I don't recall what. The cowboy wordlessly took them and gave the customer the Adkin CD. Later he began complaining because he didn't get the customer's cell phone number. In general he was a very terse and rude individual. On leaving I say goodbye and he says "yeah, good afternoon," in an impatient and forced way.

The dream changes a bit as I enter the scene of a movie. It's a dangerous city street where some homeless teenagers and myself are packed in a grassy alley hiding out under sheets on some thrown away beds. One by one someone sneaks out to get a drink from the vending machine nearby. When I try to get up I experience a severe case of vertigo and everything around warps around unusually. I tell the others this. Some wise-craking leather jacket kid who I assumed was the main character of the movie took me and laid me down under an old grandma who was there with us. I wasn't amused and returned to my spot.

Morning came and I'm told to stay concealed under the sheets as danger lurks. Some rowdy punks approach. Somehow a younger woman had gotten in bed with us homeless people and, for whatever reason, we had to look like we were having promiscuous sex with her or face getting beaten to a pulp. The jacket kid says they'll keep up the act while we get away. I get out of the sheets and the two of us walk towards the punks who seem convinced that we meet their standards. One of the bullies asks me who's sleeping with the woman. The jacket kid looks at me and says in an exaggerated voice "It was Rommel, right?" I nod, thinking he had some motive in lying about the name.