Batch

05-27-2013 -- I'm in a room somewhere with a guy who is asking me to make him some floaty fliers, a balloon design I sort of adapted from somebody else's design. At first I think the guy wants me to teach him how to make the (extremely simple) design, but no, he wants me to make him a bunch of them. For free. I try to ask him why he doesn't just want to learn to make it, and he explains that he is out of black balloons. And there is now a shortage on them, so they cost too much. So he wants me to use mine, instead. Problem is, I have no balloons with me. But I point out we are in a big room with lots of bags of balloons, including several black bags. But he says they all belong to someone rich, who would charge him for them. I'm starting to get very mad at the guy, but suddenly find myself wondering if the big professionals feel the same way about me, and my limitations of money and skill ....

Anyway, the place seems to be slowly turning into a convention hotel or something, and it is starting to feel like I am at Twist and Shout, though it almost feels like it expanded out of a basic alley meeting. Another guy walks in, and starts to twist something, trying to demonstrate a technique or something, in almost a jam room sort of setting, but there is a young lady there who is being really obnoxious about it not being in the program, and there not being any announcement about it, and how was she supposed to know about it. She doesn't seem to understand it is not a class or something, but just a quick spur-of-the-moment thing.

Andrew McDonald shows up and starts doing something, then I think Greg Schuerman is there, as well. Soon Laura Caldwell shows up, and more and more people are gathering, even though it is still two hours before the official class is supposed to take place. Soon a grumpy security guard walks in, and everybody fears he is going to tell us to get out until time for the class, but he tells us the group has rented the room for the entire week, and we can use it whenever we want to. So somebody decides they might as well set up a bounce house there. I think Mark Byrne is also setting up for a show or presentation or something.

Time seems to jump, and it is now two hours later, and they are starting up a business meeting or something, but I am trying to do some writing, putting this dream into my notebook as it is happening (yet not managing to go lucid, even though I obviously know I am dreaming in at least one sense) and the meeting is kind of distracting me, so I walk outside. But it turns out to be even more noisy and distracting there, because Don Caldwell and Billy Damon are putting on some sort of show. They explain they are sort of ADD, and don't do all that well with the business meeting portion of the convention, so they are waiting until that finishes, and things get a little more interesting, before they go in. That ought to be about ... say ... now. So they head back inside, and I decide to follow.

As I walk in, Don (or possibly Mark) is giving some sort of demonstration where he is pretending to be a plane, and several members from the audience are supposed to be his landing strip, unfortunately, they keep running away when he flies at them! It's a very strange thing. Meanwhile, I have this strange feeling of anticipation, and somehow know something I have no way of knowing. Deep underground, far beneath us, is the inescapable prison of Hathor, which recently had it's first ever breakout. The long-trapped hero has been slowly making his way toward the Panarch's Palace, and will be joining us shortly ... then things will really start to happen. Somehow this balloon convention is turning into some sort of Brandon Sanderson novel.

---

05-27-2013 -- Hints of some kind of office work, maybe at Hewitt, or maybe at a new, slightly twisted version of the Hornet newspaper. First bit is, as usual, not all there and rather limited. Anyway, we seem to be moving desks and computers and things to a new room, and we're pushing desks and computer parts and things together in some weird angles, joining them all together, but we really don;t know if they are likely to work like that. Somehow I manage to knock over a glass of orange juice that is sitting there, but manage to grab it so fast that only a couple of drops manage to spill. We are so busy with moving everything that there is no time to clean everything up properly, but we just drop an old newspaper on the tiny bit of spilled juice, and hope it will absorb it.

The computers are now all hooked up, and two lovely women are working with me here. One, I think, is Chloe from Smallville. The other might be a slightly younger version of BC. Somehow though it mostly seems to be the Hornet at the moment, there is also a hint of the 3M Dental warehouse. For some reason there is a tub in the middle of the office, and I am kind of embarrassed about stripping down and climbing in, but a few seconds later I am trying to coax either or both of the lovely women into the tub with me. No luck at the moment, because they both have work to get done, but indications are good for both of them at some later time, so I am still fairly happy. Problem is, as I move around in the tub, which I seem to have over-filled, water is splashing over the side, and I am hoping it doesn't do any damage. Luckily, it seems to room was designed for it, so it all seems to be good.

[At this point, things shift slightly, and this may be a different dream, but it seems to fit, so I am not sure.] I step out of the shower, instead of a bath, and find myself in mom's bathroom in the Hickory house. I am thinking about using the toilet, but these days it is always broken, damaged, and jammed up in my dreams, so I am worried to do so. The good news is mom knows this, too, and has bought some gadget to attach to the toilet that is supposed to keep it working better. The bad news is, it doesn't seem to be up to the job, and is bubbling wildly like it is about to explode.

So I just exit the bathroom wrapped in a towel, into mom and dad's bedroom. Dad is laying there asleep, but mom is not there. It is late at night, and mom has been really unstable recently (all the dreams of her beating up on me) so I am afraid she is going to yell at me for taking a shower so late, and I just want to get out of there. I sneak out of their room, but am horrified to see mom is sitting in my room. Thankfully she has fallen asleep, so I quietly sneak down the hall and into the living room, where I find the couch is still warm, and I realize Melody must have just left again, after napping there. I realize mom was in my room hoping to catch Melody when she came in so late, but she fell asleep, and never heard Melody, since she decided to just nap on the sofa. I curl up in the warm spot she left and drift off to sleep, myself.