Tuesday, April 06, 2004

Dream 06/April/04

I wake up, but am still half asleep. I cannot open my eyes all the way. I open my curtain and try to tie it open but the ribbon I usually use is too short to tie around the bunched fabric. I give up and drop the ribbon. I walk downstairs and Tim is on the porch with our friend Skye. I greet Skye with a hug, we chat for a minute, then I go back inside and up the stairs. There is a wacky smiley face about a foot and a half tall drawn on the wall next to the bathroom door. It is ridiculous, and I laugh. Our roommate comes bouncing over and, eyes wide and shifty, with a smile too wide, asks me if I like it. She says it signifies our agreement to discuss everything and come to an agreement. I say “uh huh, sure,” and she asks me if I want to help finish it. She pulls out a bag of buttons and a diagram, and glues a big blue button to the wall over one of the smiley face eyes. I say no thanks and walk into the bathroom.

Then, Timothy and I are driving down the highway. As we enter a tunnel, we hear organ music approaching from behind us. I look around through my still half closed eyes and see nothing. Suddenly a giant organ on wheels is passing us. There is a man sitting at the keyboard, playing with extravagant, exaggerated arm movements. I exclaim in astonishment. Another man is at the front and side of the organ, sitting in front of a steering wheel. He is, apparently, the driver. I hear no Doppler shift as they pass us. They are speeding down the road and we lose sight of them quickly.

Suddenly I am in a library. I can barely keep my eyes open, I just want to lay down and sleep. I think “I should get out of this building, go outside, and walk around – that will wake me up,” but for some reason I stay. There are various hat racks in random corners of aisles of books. They hold three or four hats each. The hats are each unique and one of a kind. I walk around trying on hats, but I cant see the hats or myself well enough in the mirror to decide which one to by because my eyes are still mostly closed. I walk up behind a young woman trying on a straw hat with hanging beads and take it off her head. I put it on and the hanging beads get caught in my long hair. The hat has beaded strands about an inch long all around the brim, interspersed with inch high red beaded hearts. “A valentine hat,” I think. I take it off and set it on a hat rack.