I dreamed of traveling two nights in a row.
The night before last, dreamed I pulled up to a McDonald's in Bryan, Texas, with my mom, but 6:00am was too early. They didn't open until 6:30am. We waited for a while, then I wandered in to get breakfast. I really wanted sausage egg and cheese biscuits, but somehow I ended up with waffles drenched in honey, a cup of coffee that I sweetened with strawberry jam, and several bags (small burlap bags) of chocolate and nougat candies that spilled on the ground, and I scooped them up and put them back in the bags, but I couldn't keep the beetles on the ground from getting mixed in.
I was headed for a cabin in the pine woods in Mississippi, but I'd come to Texas first to meet up with some people. While I was talking with my mom, I told her about a dream I thought I'd had when I was very small that I'd been at a babysitter's who had a brother or cousin who was a little person. It seemed odd to me, because I was sure I'd never actually met any little people, but Mom said, no, actually, that had been the case. We had lived for just a couple of months in a town called Stair Step, Texas, and my babysitter had lived with her brother who was a little person. I decided I would drive back down to I-10, instead of up to I-20, so I could visit Stair Step, and try to meet this person again. But I woke up before I got there.
Last night I dreamed that I lived in the French Quarter, which was located in London near Soho. My dad was visiting me and meeting my friends. One of my friends was a grad student in biology, and I helped him feed his snakes. The snakes were all small, like garter snakes, but had the loveliest cream and toffee dappled patterns. We fed them cubes of freeze-dried worms like I used to feed my betas. My dad met another friend who was doing graphic design, but we had a hard time convincing him that making a cartoon of Beethoven dressed as a hipster with a background that integrated the score from one of Beethoven's symphonies was any sort of real work.
After Dad left, some other friends came to visit. I took them to a famous cemetery that was a few blocks into the Marigny. It was a big square-shaped plot of land with a circular moat encircling the most imposing monuments. Among these was Hugh Hefner's grave, which all my friends wanted to see. We crossed the moat stream over lovely little stone bridges that leapt gracefully in slender spans from deep gray rocks frosted with emerald green moss. It was a spot of quiet repose and peace.
Except for the funeral home on one side of the cemetery, which was haunted. We didn't see any apparitions, but large antique dolls that were dressed in lace and sat on small rocking chairs around the home got up and began to chase us. As if they weren't creepy enough standing still.
We ran back to my house in the Quarter, hoping to outdistance the ominous spirits. We got tangled up in an all-female flash mob on the uptown lakeside corner of the enormous Esplanade and Rampart Street roundabout. The flash mob was wearing fluorescent pink, orange, and yellow sports bras and wrist and ankle bands and black biker shorts, and they were all dancing to "Hot, Hot, Hot". We got through them, crossed the roundabout (I looked the correct way for traffic at all times), and were on our way back into the Quarter when I woke up.
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