I dreamed that I lived in a big house right along North Peters Street in the Marigny. There was a bar and grill right behind it, then a cemetery, then the road, then the river. I took on a friend of mine as a roommate, with the approval of my landlord, and everything was going fine, until…
I was up in the empty attic loft area, trying to find the kittens I kept hearing, but there were some college kids up there that I didn’t know. One of them gave me the name of the guy who let them in, and I knew him, as he was a friend of my roommates, whom I’d met. I asked if my roommate knew that her friend was letting people into our house, and they shrugged and said probably not. They turned away from me and went back to playing with the kittens. Since they weren’t hurting anything, I decided I could take my time to figure out what to do about this, because I really didn’t consider it acceptable, and I knew my roommate would agree.
So I started back downstairs, and I heard a lot of people down there. I hurried down to the living room, and that friend had let in even MORE people, and basically a huge drunken frat party was going on in my rented home. I only knew the one guy, and I tried to ask him what on earth made him think this was okay, but he couldn’t hear me over the music, and just grinned. I started hollering, “OUT! GET OUT!” at the top of my lungs, but no one could hear me. My landlord came in and was absolutely appalled. I explained that I was in no way responsible for this happening, but I would definitely fix it. My roommate came in, and was equally appalled, and angry at her friend, and together we began shoving people out of the door, killed the music, threatened to call the police, and managed to empty the apartment.
The people upstairs asked if they could stay, since they were being quiet and harmless, and I said just no, too much was going on that was wrong, and I wanted no strangers in my house while I sorted things out. I *did* allow two people to stay in the front hall for a while, because the guy said his sister, a tiny pixie of a girl with short dark hair, was still too drunk to leave, but she’d probably be better soon.
When I turned around, there were a handful of people in their fifties setting up chairs and music stands and getting ready to rehearse a brass quartet. I recognized them from my community band, but I had no idea why they were at my house. They said that someone had told them where I lived, and that I wouldn’t mind lending them some practice space, and they’d come in through the open back door. I told them that unfortunately I *did* mind, and they needed to leave.
I was going to follow them out and lock the back door, but then some music started up at the front of the house, and I turned around and found that a dance troupe was practicing out in the street, and rows of dancers were drifting forward and backward in their routine, but they were gradually getting closer and closer to the house. As I watched, the front row of dancers came up onto the porch, and began to file in through the door and French windows. I ran up and held up my hands commanding them to stay out of my house. They could have the porch if they needed to be there, but they were NOT coming in. They looked confused, but they obeyed, and I sighed in relief.
Until I turned around and found MORE people coming in through the back. The neighborhood social club for people of color were holding a meeting about cleaning up the cemetery between my house and the river, and they thought my house was a parish hall attached to the plot, and they wanted to have their meeting there. As I started to clear them out, more band members began to come in the front, and the college kids were trying to sneak back in through the attic.
At that point, I realized the pixie girl was in really, really bad shape, and her brother was nearly passed out, and I needed to call 911. I grabbed my cell phone, ignoring the hordes overrunning my house, and tried to punch in the numbers, but it just wasn’t working. Other numbers kept coming up and other parties kept answering, and when I finally got an emergency service, it was like some sort of contracted out private party that had an answering machine.
I finally got help started on the way to my house, and was looking around at the mass of revellers in despair, wondering when I’d ever get to sleep, because I was so tired and it was now so late at night, and then I woke up.
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