Out of the Briar Patch

20.02.2011

A Little Mystery (Non-lucid)

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

This dream picks up where the last one left off.

There is a lapse in time and now I'm in "my room" in this apartment. I am starting to seriously doubt whether this is actually Phoebe's Upper East Side home or not. I've received a gift from Rose--it's a giftbag with some sort of all natural hand and body cleansers. They're cheap and from Duane Reade, the local convenience store chain. I doubt I'll use them, but I appreciate the friendly gesture. I am puzzled though: is it my birthday? What's the occasion? And how did Rose manage to give these to me? I don't see her here.

I stop trying to figure out these inconsistencies as I feel the urge to go to the bathroom. It's not far, just a few feet down the hall. The interior is painted forest green, and there's loads of lavish decorations all over the walls. It's pretty ridiculous, in my opinion; I couldn't stand living here. At any rate, I take care of business; and as I wash up I look out the West-facing window to see it's a bright sunny day. It feels like morning; I must have slept the night here after dinner [in the previous dream]. There is a grassy lawn a couple stories down, and across the lawn is another redwood-siding apartment building. It occurs to me that this isn't in New York at all; it's in Missouri! This begins to make a little more sense, as I conclude that this is the apartment complex where Rado lives. Through the window on the lawn I can also see a pool where a couple ladies are sunbathing by the side. It looks like a great day, and I want to get some fresh air.

I wonder if Rado is in his apartment, so leaving mine I decide to pay him a visit. First I have to determine if the apartment I just left is in the same building as his. Outside I realize I'm still only in socks; the ground is wet as if from a recent rain, but I'm too eager to move around and so walk down the boardwalk that connects building to building and apartment to apartment.

There are people outside, here; some I know, some I don't. I seem to see Mark but fail to ask what in the world he's doing in Missouri. And after all, I'm too interested in other things to stop and talk.

Across the lawn on another boardwalk are some middle-aged business men in gray suits. I get a pretty nasty vibe from them, even though they're a good 30 or 40 meters away. I can overhear that they're talking about us younger folk. They seem to think we're a bunch of new-age hippie apes. What an exaggeration! I'm far from a hippie, and definitely not an ape. Overhearing them talk about this, though, I'm not offended. Indeed I sort of pity the guys for how self-absorbed and blinded by money they are. Now's not the time, though, to do anything about that. I realize I'm going to need to put some shoes on if I want to find Rado's building, so I dash back down the boardwalk towards the apartment door that I left only a short while before.

Mom and Dad are here just inside the front door of the apartment. They were wondering where I had gone off to; but before they can inquire, somebody is on the phone and wants to speak with me. I immediately and without doubt realize that I am about to speak on the phone with the devil. The evil vibe I got from the business men just moments before explodes into this incredible eery sensation that something super suspicious is afoot.

I cautiously take the phone from my dad and ask him who is on the other line. Apparently I'm about to speak with a certain "Mrs. Brisby."

"Hello, Mrs. Brisby?" I begin.

But to my surprise I hear my grandpa on the other line; he cuts straight to the chase.

"I need you to come over. There's something I have to show you."

I am suspicious. I keep the pretense of speaking to "Mrs. Brisby," but grandpa has none of it. I finally aknowledge that I am speaking to grandpa, or somebody who insists on pretending he is my grandfather.

"It's important, come over right away," he insists.

So I give in; I agree to go over as soon as I have some shoes on, and I hang up the phone.

Mom immediately asks where I had gone off to; I tell her I was just out for a walk. She says everybody was worried, but she knew I'd come back because I "left this"--she shows me my watch--on my dresser. Thankful to have it back, I put my watch on my wrist.

I ask, "What does grandpa want me to see?"

At first Mom says she doesn't know, but after some pressing she says, "It's something [made of] wood, something pretty."

And then I wake.