rshort1202
Member

I am removing a hypodermic needle from my left hip. It is very wide, nearly as wide as a pencil. I start with some haste but soon begin to feel it tugging the skin, which slows my pace. I grimace through the last few uncomfortable moments, feeling deeply woozy.




I am traversing some snowy ledge, seemingly the outer edge of a sidewalk, 20-30 feet above a body of water (Lake Tahoe?). I don’t feel cold, and in fact I remove my tie dye Grateful Dead shirt. For me this is fun, and I even consider jumping into the water, but never do.

I’m in a larger, open, minimalistic building. It seems like a restaurant or coffee shop, though there is nothing out on the counters or put on the walls that would indicate either way. I am arriving as if I work here. The first person I run into behind the long, low counters is my ex Reilly. She looks pretty much just like she used to, if not a little older. I think her hair is styled up somehow. I think we begin talking, and she comes across rather rude, ruder than when we’ve ran into each other in the past. She must be wearing a crop top or something similar, as I notice a pronounced scar on her stomach above the hip bone. I think I notice one or two others, and don’t remember them ever being there.

I am in some building. It seems to mold around the surrounding terrain and/or go below it. The architecture is minimalistic but sleek, dark wood and darker walls. Everything seems angular as well. I am looking for a restroom and find one, an opening, at an angle, in a wall. I enter and follow it, a longer hallway. It seems both open and private, and I love this effect and its subtle opulence. I think before I fully get into the restroom I arrive at a corner that opens into a larger space. Off to the left the building is open to the terrain, a rock grade with a small trickle of water. In front of me is the main opening, a vault type space, the far side of which is a wall coming out of the terrain, with a large, high window. Through the window I see some tables and two old men sitting at them. I take a picture of the scene and when I look back at it, the men look ominous and familiar. (They look like Ken Rose and the old customer at work with a ponytail and pebble mask). I think I take a turn and end up making it to the actual restroom.




I am in a car with Vladimir Nabokov, him in the driver’s seat and me in the passenger’s. He has a piece of paper, on which there is a line of symbols that I think repeat. I’m not sure the objective here, if there is any, but he’s found a clever way to pencil in a few to perfectly look like the outline of a house (he gets two or three on the larger sheet). I think this somehow correlates to his last name.

I am at work, and someone is looking for The Fountainhead. Over in the classics section, I can’t find a single copy, or any Ayn Rand for that matter. I think I even check Fiction just to be sure. Luke is here, so I ask if he’s seen one. He says no, but does help look around. I think I finish up with the customer when he brings over a tall, thick (textbook size) paperback. Apparently it is a version of the Fountainhead without any editing? I go to find the customer to suggest it, but by the time I do this book looks like it’s about something else entirely.

I’m at work when Reilly’s mom Cully comes in. She recognizes me and seems happy to see me. We talk for a little bit.




Something about a seemingly endless house.