Last time sleeping in my apartment in Berlin, moving out today. Kept having the same dream about turning in my keys and catching the train home before waking up every ten minutes, except each dream the locations looked differently, sometimes I'd miss the train, or a woman being an imaginary family member of my mom's side would show up.
Don't Forget Anything I'm packing up my bags and storing everything into boxes. I don't leave until tomorrow, but I'd like to get mostly packed by tonight. I'm half awake as this is going on, and I think I should probably wake up and write down this dream. But at the same time I need to stay asleep until I'm done packing, or else I might forget to pack something. I'm almost done, so it shouldn't take long. A Rude Guest I'm packing up my bags and boxes and leaving them in the front hall, for now. I've been staying at the house of a family I don't know too well, and tomorrow will be the day I leave. I look at the clock and suddenly realize that I have to leave for work. (I work evenings.) There's no time for me to move my bags out of the hallway; I'll have to leave them there. It's a pretty rude thing to do, but I hope they'll understand. I work in an office building with lots of glass windows, where I talk with other people about something related to computers. When I get back to the house, most of my bags are gone, and the family is back home. I manage to locate a couple of them, but there's no sign of my viola anywhere. When I ask the family where everything went, one of the daughters leads me out to the front yard. She pulls up a corner of sod in the lawn to reveal a big pit underneath, which has been stuffed full of my bags. I still don't see my viola, but the girl assures me that it's there, somewhere on the bottom of the pile. I contemplate this for a few moments. Why'd it happen? Then I turn to the father, who's standing between me and the front door, and I apologize for having left all of my bags in the front hall. From the man's reply, I can tell that it really did annoy him, and he's glad I'm moving out soon. Apparently both myself and the other person who's staying here have been rather rude houseguests ever since we got here. Sublet I'm packing up my bags and boxes at my housemate "Charlie"'s apartment. My sublet is over, and it's time to go back home. I live in the same town, so I don't have far to go, but it will still be a logistical nightmare getting all of these boxes across town. Mom's agreed to pick me up with a car, though, so for now I only need to worry about getting everything outside. Now, I have a lot of cardboard boxes, but I'm hoping that I won't need to use all of them. Even if I don't fill all of them, I'll still feel like I own way too much stuff. But every time I think I'm done packing, I look around the room to discover that there's something I've forgotten to pack. Once, Charlie takes out a couple bottles from his cupboard and offers one each to his roommate "Sam" and myself. They're leftover vodka, not terrible but not particularly good, and he's trying to get rid of them. I accept, curious but unsure if I'll ever actually use it. I carry down my viola first, leaving it on the sidewalk near the front doorstep. Obviously I'm worried that someone will steal it, but given that this whole thing is already such a hassle, I think I just have to take the risk. When I go back upstairs, Charlie offers to help carry down some boxes and suitcases. As he's picking them up, I discover some more loose items on the floor, and I quickly toss them through a gap in the suitcases Charlie's chosen. He looks at me funny, but he doesn't say anything. Anyway, I grab some suitcases of my own, and we head downstairs. Someone's been doing some deep cleaning in the apartment, so some of the floors are damp. My vision is blocked by the things I'm carrying, and on the ground floor I bump into a rolling suitcase that someone is carrying across the room. I take a quick hop to get over the suitcase and keep my balance, and miraculously I don't fall. The person--a girl--laughs and compliments me on my reflexes. Shifting around some of the boxes I'm carrying, I manage to peek through a gap to identify her as "Savannah," one of my old high school crushes. Delightedly, I say hi, and we chat for a bit on our way out the door. Once outside, I remember my viola, and I decide I should hurry to see if it's still there. I start speedwalking down the street. Savannah thinks it's a race, and she rushes past me. Soon we're all running. I notice that I'm only carrying a couple shopping bags, while Charlie's arms are overloaded with boxes. I feel a bit bad for abusing his helpfulness so much. But there's no time to worry about that now. We run around a few street corners and past an empty lot piled high with dirt (at which point I cut a corner and pass Savannah, woot!) before reaching the street where I left my viola. It's not there. I feel a jolt of despair and anger before turning around to see that it's been moved to the top of a short staircase across the street. My mom left a note on the case. She says something about a whistle and warns me to be more careful about my viola. I still don't see how I could have done it any more safely, though, unless maybe by bringing out my viola last, rather than first. Hmmm. I guess that would've been smarter.
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