Horsey Halftime Show ~ 5/20/2023

TW: discussion of suicide

I dreamed the U.S. men’s soccer team was playing the Russian national men’s team at Rice Stadium. The US would be wearing bright orange and electric blue. The Russian team would be wearing the purple and green, basically the same hues of Buzz Lightyear. As a sort of “welcome to Texas” gesture, I made hundreds of egg and bacon breakfast tacos. I lightly painted the tortillas in the teams’ colors using food coloring and milk before cooking them up. 

I tucked foil-wrapped breakfast tacos into all sorts of nooks and crannies under the bleachers at the ends of each side of the field, just under and behind where the teams would be sitting, along with their staff and press and people involved with producing the game. The ones on the U.S. side disappeared quickly, and everyone enjoyed them, but the Russian team and coaches and all didn’t really know what to make of hard-scrambled eggs. Apparently eggs in Russia were always served soft and runny. They thought they tasted all right, but didn’t really know what to make of them, and it was obviously not their thing. So for the rest of the game, every time I had a minute and felt hungry, I’d hurry over to the other end of the stadium, underneath the metal bleachers, and I’d grab a taco or two.

For halftime, there was going to be a dressage show with about a dozen horses. They wanted them to be done up like My Little Ponies, with dyed mains and tails, and designs painted on their rumps. So I didn’t have a lot of time to eat tacos and watch the game, because I was in charge of coming up with the designs and painting them on each horse using nail polish, where the horses waited under the bleachers. I had to keep reminding people telling me what to paint that we had to be careful not to paint on trademarked images. One person kept wanting the apples on the rump of one mare to look like the Apple logo, and I kept refusing, saying that this was internationally televised, and we’d all get into trouble and be sued for actual money if we did that.

The U.S. had scored one goal during the first half, but twice during the second half I peered out through the bleachers to see that the U.S. goal was completely unguarded, and sure enough, the ball came flying into it before too long, so Russia won the game 2-1. When the game ended, I put on my roller skates to head back to my apartment, because my senior year was over, and I needed to pack up and move out. If all the exits had been open, I could have just coasted down the ramps and out down the street to my apartment, but because I had to stay late to help with the horses, they kept closing exits, and I had to keep stopping and going back up the ramps to find another way. This was NOT EASY in roller skates and I kept falling.

When I finally got out onto the streets, there were still a lot of people milling around. Suddenly everything got really quiet, and we could hear a deep, eerie chanting, getting nearer and nearer. Here and there in the crowd, deep voices softly joined the chant. Someone near me whispered, obviously afraid, that it was the Hare Krishna, and that they were getting out of here! Other people scattered, and soon the street was almost empty, except for those who had begun chanting along, and a few other people who seemed determined to just pretend nothing was wrong, but were obviously nervous. 

A large group of people carrying torches came across the plaza where I stood. They wore robes of black and orange and white, in rectangular, geometric designs, almost like plaid, except without the interweaving of a tartan, just stark blocks of black and burnt orange on white. They wore head wraps of the same fabric. Those on the outer edges of the group held up poles of silver-gray worn bamboo and thin lathes of old wood, all supporting a sort of light canopy of the same reeds and wood, and maybe human bone, the person next to me whispered, though I certainly didn’t see anything like that, all tied together with dried grass and pitch. The whole structure was sort of geometrically knobbly, a bunch of polyhedral shapes all glommed together, with some of the faces draped with the same orange, black, and white fabric. strings of metal beads and disks hung from corners, matching the necklaces worn by the chanters, and clinking and jingling and tinkling in time with their steps and in time with the chant. 

All they were doing was chanting and walking, so I couldn’t figure out why anyone had found them super scary. The person next to me whispered that they practiced dark magic and sacrificed babies. But honestly, the only thing that made them seem different from any other group of people wearing uniforms and carrying banners and marching, which is practically an American pastime and on display in any parade, was that all of these people, and the chanters in the crowd who joined them, were Black people. So I figured the fear and rumor was really just racially motivated. The Hare Krishna was headed down my street, so I just skated on after them and made it home just fine.

I met up with my mom and we had just finished packing up my apartment when Robert Downey, Jr., knocked on the door. He was the producer for the horse show, and they’d all liked my designs, and thought maybe they should do something more permanent, and go on tour with the act. I agreed to go along and discuss this with the horse people. We all met up at Pepper Pots’s house for the talks. I almost left, though, because as she showed me to the dining room, Ms. Pots stopped to deal with a wasp next in the living room. The house was really well appointed, but the floors were hard-packed earth, the walls bamboo and wattle and daub and distressed planks, and the windows open to the forested surroundings. 

Pepper aimed a jet of wasp spray up at the mud-caked nests in the rafters, and down fell a giant tarantula hawk wasp, not quite dead, flopping and buzzing angrily across the earth floor before finally lying still, orange wings flat on the ground, red-black head and abdomen curled up off the ground, with just a leg twitching every so often. I managed not to scream and run, but I kept my eye on the ceilings as I entered the dining room where everyone was gathered to discuss.

I explained that nail polish was just NOT the right medium, and showed them how hard it had been to complete each design before the horse was sent out onto the field for their show. Some people though we should tattoo the marks on the horses and keep their rumps shaved. One person even suggested branding, though most thought that hair dye was the best, somewhat permanent way to go. But some people thought it was cruel and even blasphemous to do that to horses, so I suggested a sort of clear acrylic, shaped cape or covering, with a printed design. Others, including Robert Downey, Jr., thought this was the best way to go, and that there was surely a mesh or webbing that could be used, maybe the color of each horse’s coat, that would make the designs look well integrated and completely organic to the horse.

Then we had to have all over again the argument about using shapes that were too much like trademarked logos and images. And someone asked how we could possibly have an apple design that did NOT look like an existing apple design. So I explained that there were a lot of things to take into account, like the resources and likelihood of suing of the owners of the trademarked designs, as well as whether or not the owner dealt in horses, entertainment, and other related fields. I got hired to do the research, come up with design options, and present them to this panel for decision. What a huge job for someone right out of college!

I already had an office space lined up that I was leasing for freelance work now that my internship was done. I headed over there to put the horse designs on my to-do whiteboard. I wanted to consult the attorney who had the corner office, but he was headed out for the weekend. He promised we could talk in the coming week. There wasn’t room on my whiteboard for this next item, but my office mate, who was packing up, had a box of hardware fasteners of all shapes and sizes, including little round plackets with holes that could look like e’s and g’s and d’s. I asked if I could have them and he said it was one less thing for him to carry out. I lined up the little metal bits along the eraser holder at the bottom of my whiteboard, spelling out, as close as I could get, the words, “horse designs”.

As I was putting together this note to me, my former office-mate and I got into a discussion about the end of the world. We decided that there would probably be two main factions, at least in America. There would be the people saying we just all needed to keep up our hopes and keep looking for a solution, rationally speaking, and the people saying we were all going to die anyway, rationally speaking, and should commit mass suicide to avoid the long, painful lingering. I said that I figured that, we Americans being ourselves, each group would claim not only the rational, but also the moral high ground, and would think the other group were nothing but selfish, wrong-headed, evil people who deserved what they got.

Then I said, but you know, I don’t think it would be all about rationality. I think that it would also be a lot about innate physical and biological imperatives, like… the will to live. Because I thought that, from a rational standpoint, I’d probably be among the “earth is better off without humans and we’ve mucked this up too much to fix it and the fastest way to a stable and sustainable planetary ecosystem was no more humans” folks… BUT… fundamentally, at a gut level, I want to live. I enjoy living. I value breathing for no really good rational reason. So I figure yeah, both camps would feel that pull, and those who refused suicide would rationalize against it and find the others crazy and selfish for not committing to stay and fix the problem, and those who chose suicide would rationalize against their biological imperative to exist, and find the others crazy and selfish for not choosing to stop being the problem. And then we began discussing how many people would have to choose suicide for the rest to be able to fix the human problem and not make the decision and sacrifice of their fellow humans all for nothing… And that got too deep, so I decided I needed to go to the bathroom.

The office bathroom had two toilets, but no stalls. And the mother of a friend of mine was in there washing her hands, so I was chatting with her and waiting for her to leave so I could lock the door. Finally she did, but then I realized there was no toilet paper. But when I tried to open the bathroom door so I could go get some from the supply cupboard, the bathroom had been locked from the outside by the attorney, who had just left… and taken the key with him. And then I woke up.

Walk Across Texas ~ 3/30/2023

 I dreamed I was walking home to Seattle from San Antonio. I was researching popular music since American Colonial days, because I was writing a thesis that both US history and Chinese history could be divided into three eras: colonial, industrial, and modern, and that this division was reflected in the evolution of popular music forms in both places.

In San Antonio, I had visited a museum on Chinese music, and was on my way home. I was walking, of course. I wanted to avoid some hills, so I thought I'd follow the river bank I was walking along, probably the Pecos, instead of hiking up to the top of the cliff face. But the bank narrowed to nothing up ahead, past a pile of boulders and a tall, thin cedar. I turned back, past an escarpment of blood-red jasper, and hiked up to the top of the cliffs after all.

I heard a deep bellow and found myself approaching a herd of bison, mostly red and deep brown and black, but with one cream-colored bull. The bull was NOT happy that I was there. I saw a gate and let myself into a broad corral that butted up behind a large white house. But there were cows with calves in there, and they, too, were not happy to see me. So I knocked on the back door, and asked the residents if I could just pop through their house and out to the street, so I could avoid bothering the bison. They were kind enough to let me do that.

Out on the main street, I looked at Google Maps on my phone to figure out where I was, and found I was in R, Texas. Out in West Texas, there was a Q, and R, an S, a T, and a U, all clustered south and west of Birmingham, Texas. I knew that Birmingham had a whole center devoted to Victorian Texan Culture, so I went there to do some more research.

There were replicas for sale of an old-fashioned instrument called a hand calliope, which was kind of a cross between a bag pipe, a harmonica, a concertina, and a player piano? You filled it up with air, and wound it up, and a spring pump pushed the air out of a rotating, reeded contraption, so that it played a wheezy song.

I was looking up the patent for this fascinating device, and then I woke up.

Olympic Hurricane ~ 9/28/2022

 I dreamed I was watching US Olympic gymnastics team trials because my high school alma mater had sent a team, and I happened to be in the city where the trials were being held. Among the athletes, I recognized my friend Kerri, who was trying out along with them. There were fives slots being filled, and Kerri was selected to fill the fifth slot, and was set to compete in the Olympics, which were starting the next day. 

Once the trials were done, I went and found them, and congratulated Kerri. All the girls from my hometown were in awe that I was close friends with THE Kerri. We had a chance to talk for a bit, and it turned out her family hadn't been able to come support her, so she was there mostly alone. I agreed to try to make it to as many of her events as I could, to loudly cheer her on.

In addition to the usual gymnastic events, like floor, parallel bars, vault, etc., a new event had been added: water gymnastics. Basically, this was a combination of beam and diving, in that the routine was performed on a narrow ledge submerged in shin to waist deep water, and splash should be minimized. All of this took place in a wave pool. Even the spectators and judges were seated in the pool. I was glad I'd brought my swimsuit on my trip because that was one of the events I had time to watch.

I was actually in town for a conference for work, though, so I couldn't spend all my time watching Kerri compete. Still, the convention center hosting my conference was also hosting the Olympic gymnastic events, so that was convenient. Kerri and I planned to meet up one day for lunch.

When I got to the food court, all the gymnasts were heading into a conference room. Kerri saw me and said she'd be back in a moment. The food court was an open-air market sort of set up, with food counters tucked amid tall trees. Nearby they were building more indoor conference space. As I was looking around, waiting, the light dimmed. The sky filled with roiling dark clouds.

You see, we were all in Tampa, and the hurricane was coming.

There was a huge hall under construction with tall openings for floor-to-ceiling windows. As I watched, debris and dust inside the hall began swirling into a pillar, broadening up near the ceiling several stories above. A tornado was forming inside the building. I ran toward the conference room, where everyone was now coming out. It turns out they'd been meeting to plan what to do because of the storm. We all needed to get into a safe indoor spot, but obviously not even the indoors was safe, if a tornado was forming a hundred yards away inside of a structure.

It turned out, though, that this was an expected phenomenon during construction, and all of the buildings being built had special "disruptor" fans installed. These huge fans would break up the air flow patterns inside of these buildings so that they couldn't start spiraling into whirlwinds. Someone was explaining it to me and said it was similar to how bridges got designed now to prevent resonant oscillation like what had destroyed the Tacoma Narrows bridge.

All this time I was trying to hurry to somewhere, anywhere, where we'd be safe, but Kerri was limping. It turns out she had fractured her leg in an event that morning. It hadn't felt too bad earlier, but now, maybe because of the air pressure fluctuations, it was really hurting and she could no longer walk on it. She suspected she was experiencing compartment syndrome. Finally, we got into a fairly sheltered area, though it wasn't as secure as I would have liked. Kerri sat down and took a pocketknife out of her pocket and she cut open her leg to ease the pressure. 

We got her bandaged up, but she needed something to eat and drink, so I walked into a little convenience shop and got her some sort of pastries and a Coke. I shoved them at Kerri so she could start eating and drinking as I paid. I was rifling through my wallet to find the two more dollars I needed when I woke up.

Mall or Madhouse… or Both ~ 8/12/2021

I dreamed I was visiting my mom, and our littles were there. My middle niece was talking up a storm, and my nephew, who was now two, his curly gold hair had straightened and gone brunette. And he had a beard and mustache.

My oldest niece was sick, and needed more medicine, so I was going to go into town to get some. Mom kept listing other things she needed, like printer paper. I kept trying to find something to write a list on, and all I could find was a fortune cookie fortune. I took a picture of the medicine bottle with my phone, and wrote everything else really tiny.

While Mom was thinking about what else we might need, I started to worry about a sort of sore bump I had on my chest. It was visible above my neckline, and since it was kind of dark and round, I was worried that someone might think I was exposing my breast and I’d get in trouble. As I examined it, and it was hard to focus on at that distance and angle, I thought I saw something moving. I found a magnifying glass. 

I watched in horror as little white mite-looking things poked out and then ducked back in. I peered at a different angle and found it was like a tiny cave in my flesh, and a tiny, translucent white worm was half visible, curled up in the back. The inside was obviously infected, and I thought maybe if I tried to squeeze it like a pimple I could get all the bugs out, but it ran really deep in my chest and the all sort of just hunkered down. But then my mom finished her list and hurried me out, so I tugged my shirt up to hide it and got on the road.

I went to Ingram Park Mall, but it was pretty different from how I remembered it. For one thing, there was a big, painted concrete monument at the entrance. It featured the state of Texas painted like the Lone Star flag and a gray and silver armadillo. At first it read “State of Guadalupe, established 2006”, which made no sense. When I looked again, it had changed to “State of Texas” with no date, and “Guadalupe Co.” with a big arrow and a mileage indicating direction and distance to that county.

I found parking up on a tiny top floor of a parking garage. It was round, like a castle turret, very dark, with only an exit sign lamp, and it only had enough parking for five or six cars. I found out why it was empty when I went through the double glass doors beneath the exit sign and found myself in a deserted, empty anchor store. I went out into the mall corridors, and that whole wing was empty, though I could see shoppers up ahead.

On the other side of the mall was an office store, so I went there to get paper. I knew I was going to have to stop at an HEB, too, but I wanted to try to get as much as possible at the mall. I walked around the shops trying to find any of the other items. Up on the second floor, down one wing, I found a luxury perfume store that had a sign saying they also sold the medicine I needed, so I went in and got that.

After that, I saw a big shop visible through plate glass windows on all sides. It looked like I could get more of my items there, but I couldn’t find an entrance. There weren’t any escalators nearby, but there was a big blue plastic slide, three chutes side by side, straight down to the first level, so I slid on down.

There wasn’t an entrance on the first level either. On my way up to the third level I found the food court on a sort of mezzanine between floors two and three. Since I had missed lunch, I stopped to get some enchiladas. There were vendors all along the walkways with plates of Mexican food laid out all around. It was pretty amazing. 

After lunch, I made my way up to the third and top level, where there was, again, no entrance. Apparently the only way in was outside, and I’d have to go all the way around the mall exterior to get there. I hurried to a nearby slide to get down to the ground level. This slide was yellow and orange striped, had a tunnel cover over it, and instead of staying straight and together, the three chutes separated and looped around on their way down. 

I sat dow and started to slide, but when I reached the tunnel cover a few feet down the first drop, I didn’t fit. I had to squirm my way back up and off the slide. I decided I was just done. Since I’d come in on the third floor, I decided to just go back to my car and either drive around to the outside entrance or head to the grocery store. 

It was getting late, and the wing where I’d parked was eerie and ominous win its emptiness. When I got to my car, I found I had left my purse behind somewhere. Probably the food court. Or maybe the slide.

I went back to the food court first, and asked around, but no one had seen or turned in a purse. There were even more plates, on all the tables and all along the floor, and I had to be careful not to step in refried beans or tamales in chili con carne. As I neared the slide, there were plates of Indian food, fragrant with curry and cumin and cardamom. I had to wait in line to get to the person running the slide so I could ask about my purse. Dozens of bystanders were hanging around, and they recognized me as the woman who didn’t fit.

My purse wasn’t there either. They directed me to the lost and found. On my way there I passed a pet shop with dozens of puppies in the window, available for adoption. I stopped to eye them wistfully. A woman came out to encourage me to come get a puppy, but I had to explain that I was just visiting from Seattle. I couldn’t bring a puppy back on the plane, and my apartment didn’t allow pets anyway. She was shocked and refused to believe such a rule could exist anywhere. I took a deep breath to try to explain, and then I woke up.

Dreams of Insomnia ~ 6/1/2021

 I dreamed I was on a trip in Europe with a small group from my university band. I was having a hard time sleeping, and would spend every night awake, then get on a bus and travel all day. We were taking a break in one place, and I decided to try sleeping in a warm bubble bath. I accidentally spilled a bunch of rice in the water, but it didn't seem like a big deal.

I woke up in the middle of the night, so at least I had slept, but the water was cool, so I started to drain it, then turned the hot water on. There was something squishy in my mouth, and I figured it was some of the rice, so I just swallowed it. Then, as I felt the warmth of the hot water spreading from the faucet end, I noticed a flicker of movement in the water, just where the warm met the tepid. I couldn't see anything, really, just a sort of ripple. There was a jar by the tub, and I scooped water around the movement the next time I saw it.

I looked closely at the jar, and I saw more than a dozen little... things. They were sort of shaped like sideways droplets. They were perfectly clear, so I could only see them when they moved. But they would swim jerkily, like tadpoles, and then I'd see them, circling around in the jar. I searched the bathwater, and I decided I'd got all of them. I really hoped that wasn't what I had swallowed, and that if it was, I wasn't going to have a chest alien bursting out in twenty-four hours.

I set the jar down, and I decided they must have come from the rice, so I started scooping the grains out. I put some into the jar, and the clear things rushed up and began to climb on top of them, so I stopped putting anything in the jar, because it was still only half full, and I did NOT want them climbing out of it.

Instead I started scooping the rice grains out onto the bath mat. There, a bunch of tiny pandas, each about the size of a nickel, hurried out and began eating the grains of rice. I got most of it out, and the water was warm enough now. I set the drain and faucet to flow at about the same rate, so the water would stay warm for the rest of the night.

As I was trying to go back to sleep, I wondered if this was a very good idea, to sleep in a bathtub every night, and would I drown? I decided if I breathed in the water, I'd wake up sputtering, so it was okay. I was just getting comfortable and drifting off to sleep when the trip coordinator knocked on my door and said it was time to get up. And then I woke up.

A Royal Wedding ~ 5/5/2021

 I dreamed I was a guest at the wedding of King Edward to Princess Eleanor in Canterbury Cathedral. In my dream, the cathedral was in a wooded valley amid its medieval village. A stony hill a lot like Enchanted Rock loomed to the east, overlooking the valley. As I rode the train into the village, I looked up to the crest of the hill and saw the gleaming pale walls and towers of the castle, washed by a bright midday sun. The valley was lush with bright green buds on all the trees and daffodils and iris blooming in the tall grass on the river banks.

The cathedral had been recently decorated and freshly painted inside, and its walls were covered with rich tapestries in crimson and gold and deep azure blue. Golden stone columns were richly carved, and seemed to grow like enormous trees up into the canopy of fan-vaulted ceilings. The choir and nave and chapels were at ground level, but the altar was reached by grand, arching stairways to either side, climbing to the upper, altar level, with a towering tabernacle behind, tall seats for the bishops, and dark little doors leading into the vast labyrinth of the monastery, and down to subterranean basements and winding passages.

I had some sort of coordinating job, to do with lights or flowers or something, so I was walking all around the altar level, making sure everything was in place when the king and his bride arrived for their rehearsal. This would involve a procession of a huge train of nobles and clergy, and everyone was joyful and joking around, and I tucked myself up in an out of the way corner to watch and see if I needed to do anything.

The king was young, very tall and rawboned and gawky. His crown and golden mantle couldn't hide his lanky figure, boney wrists, and long jaw. His hair was stiff, straight, and straw-colored, his skin very pale and dusted with freckles, and his eyes very large and hazel green. He was one of those people who should be ugly, but was also magnetically charismatic and full of energy and high spirits. I'd heard he had broken his leg being thrown from his horse not so long before, but he didn't have any kind of limp, and was joking with his court and running up the aisle faster than any of them could go. The queen-to-be was small and golden-haired, dressed and veiled in deep blue. She seemed very quiet and self-possessed, but her gray eyes were kind. She was a very clever and strong woman, everyone knew. The kingdom all agreed it would be a good match.

The corner I was sheltered in had a tall window, and as I stood there, looking on and listening in, I was chilled as a shadow cut off the sunlight that had been streaming through. I turned and looked through a small, clear pane edging the more brilliant glass pattern, and all I could see was a deep, obscure darkness, a steely gray that was almost black, like hematite. As my eyes adjusted, I could see scales and a stretch of leathery wing. I craned my head sideways to peer upward through the little clear pane, and I could see a jagged ridge of spines flowing up a long sinuous neck.

I turned back into the cathedral and It had been so dim already that no one had noticed the blotted out sunshine. There was a loud crack from overhead, and everyone froze, stunned. The king cried, "What is it?" as he rushed to shield the queen. I yelled down that there was a dragon, and we needed to RUN. We all ran.

The people nearest the arching staircases fled down them. I followed the bishop and the royal party as they passed through a nearby door hidden by a carved turret of the tabernacle. That was the nearest door to me. We fled down a narrow stair as stone from the ceilings began to crash down onto the altar, glass shattered, and priceless artworks fell to fragments in billows of dust.

The king and court had secret tunnels, far below ground, that led to the castle, and they hurried to these. But I wasn't allowed to follow them. The monks directed me through tunnels that seemed to be carved out of a dull gray wax, glistening with a clammy dampness. It made me think of adipocire crusting over the insides of a waterlogged corpse. I passed by cave-like rooms where relics and gem-encrusted, leather-bound hymnals and other treasures rested behind glass in locked cabinets. There were tourists there gawking at it all, and I yelled to them to stay down here in the cellars, because there was a dragon.

It was my job, I decided, to find anyone who needed to be warned, so I kept hurrying along corridors. Suddenly, I popped out of an archway into the nave of the cathedral. The fan-vaulting high over the altar, at the east end of the nave, was now gaping open to a darkening sky. Perched on the jagged, broken spires was the dragon. It's reptilian head writhed back and forth as its piercing yellow eyes examined all of the interior, looking anyone hiding... or running... like me.

The dragon saw me. I knew I needed to dash into another corridor with a downward stair. The dragon was too enormous to fit down any of the passageways, and once I got deep enough below the surface, I'd be beyond its reach. It's head reared back, and I knew that either the fire or a deadly strike were coming. And then I woke up.

Worst Apartment Building Ever ~ 2/9/2021

I dreamed I lived in a multi-use high rise on St. Charles Ave. It was a nice, snug apartment, and it was reasonably quiet, even with Mardi Gras weekend going on down below. Just before bed, I decided I needed something at the convenience store in the lobby, so I put on my robe and headed down.

I went down the flight of steps from my door to a landing in the drab stairwell of white walls and metal steps and rails painted gray, leading up and down in all directions to other gray metal doors like mine. I went through one of the doors lower down to get to the wood paneled hall to the elevator. 

The elevator started down at a normal speed, but fell faster and faster until I was in free fall, hovering above the floor, terrified that it had broken and I was about to die. But gradually it slowed and my feet met the floor, and the elevator stopped at a parking garage level. I hurried out, even though it wasn’t the lobby. I decided I’d find another way.

I went through some glass doors into a marble-floored department store with potted plants and racks of expensive clothing tastefully arranged. The walls had mosaic patterns, and a brilliantly polished wooden grand staircase led up to a second level.

Off to the right was a sleek, ultramodern coffee shop, and amid its trendy tables another elevator was tucked against a wall. It was a wide, deep, hexagonal space behind floor to ceiling windows. On the floor, in front of its sliding doors, were round metal disks, ridged all around in a radial pattern. To summon the elevator you stood on a disk and the doors would open. But you had to wait there for a certain number of people to enter.

I stood on a plate, then hurried through the quickly closing doors. I looked around for the number panel to select the 40th floor, but I couldn’t find it and had to step back as more people entered.

Suddenly the elevator had launched itself upward so fast that somehow again we were all flying through the air, feet from the floor, bouncing off of each other. I grabbed onto the arm of someone next to me and squeezed my eyes shut in terror until it slowed down, my feet met the floor, and the doors opened at floor S50, according to a tiny display beside the doors.

That wasn’t my floor, so I looked again for the controls. I realized then that there was some sort of laser scan in use, and it was identifying the elevator occupants and determining from that where people were going. It was dropping people off at their floors in the order they’d entered.

I got hustled off too early, though, after flying around miserably a few more times. I was walking through a rooftop mini golf course when I realized the sky was lightening, and morning was coming. I’d been wandering for hours and was suddenly struck by the worry that maybe I hadn’t locked my door and it had been unsecured for all that time. But I felt my keys in the left pocket of my robe, so I decided I had locked up okay.

I made my way back inside the building and found myself in a really warm, richly furnished lobby outside a trans-friendly day spa. I went up to the receptionist and asked if there was an elevator or stairwell I could use. She pointed me to four sets of brown wooden doors, centered on the four walls of the large lobby. I estimated which one was on the wall closest to my apartment, and got in. 

The elevator went up at a normal pace, thank goodness, and stopped a couple floors up to let in a man in a black pinstripe suit, a matching black pinstripe cloth fedora, and gleaming black and white saddle shoes. Once I got past the drama of his ensemble I realized I recognized his face. My jaw dropped open just as the elevator stopped to let him out into a burgundy and gold steampunk themed casino. 

The dinging slots and flashing lights made it seem completely unreal, and as the elevator stayed in place, I asked the hostess nearby, “WAS THAT DANNY TREJO???” She laughed and said it sure was. She asked me what floor I was headed to. I told her floor 40, and she reached into the elevator and fiddled with a tiny slot machine contraption I hadn’t seen before on a small wooden table to the left of the doors. Its readout flashed “40” as the doors closed and I was on my way.

When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, I was in a familiar hall that looked like an auditorium. Everything was painted, carpeted, or upholstered in purple. There were no seats, and no stage at the lowest tier, but stairs and landings leading to hallways out of the hall at each of the different levels, in all directions. One of the hallways up above me was marked with silver lettering and an arrow as leading to the “Floor 40 Terrace Apartments” which is where I lived.

I followed the hallway to some glass doors and stepped out into bright daylight and onto a moving walkway. It wasn’t a simple belt that propelled me in one direction. It was a series of swoopy-shaped clear plastic paths between spinning plastic circles that you could step off of in different directions to take different paths, but there was no moving in a straight line, or anything like it. 

The swoops and circles were ridged like fingerprints, sort of like the metal disks in front of the department store elevator. It was good they were, because the whole path was taking me through a rooftop water park, and a foamy layer of soap bubbles coated everything. I was making my way across the roof to the corner of a terrace where I knew I’d find a door into the gray and white stairwell, my home, and hopefully I could get some sleep finally, and then I woke up.