:: The Spoon that Would Not Go Away ::
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| :: 8.30.2011 :: | :: 10:39 AM :: | :: Basement Dweller :: |
| I was in the basement of someone's house having just arrived. While I'm not sure whether I was invited or not, I immediately rushed towards a child's play set, a little town scene for toy cars. There were three toy emergency vehicles, one of each traditional type, sitting there with blinking lights although there was no state of emergency within the room. The other three inhabitants were relaxed and conversing about something. I hardly ever remember any dialog from my dreams, sounds either. Somehow, I feel this is related to my inability to remember people's names...and sometimes what they say. Haha...I suppose it is like I'm meeting everyone for the first time. I guess I'll get better at it. Heh. The ambulance was somehow pushed into what looked like a department store with the vehicle arranged about...to give the impression of a vending machine? I'm not terribly sure, but there is a distinct memory of pushing a button and thinking vending machine. Somehow, that's a little bit creepy in retrospect...my dreams are semi-commercialized. I pushed a button, but nothing happened. I took a look at the police car and firetruck in passing, admiring their flashing lights and silent wails for attention. One of the other three fellows said something while he was working on...something.It was a pretty comfortable environment, but the details escape me. Then, I heard someone coming down the stairs. It was a couple that I had never seen before. As I look towards the pair, I hardly notice the fellow, immediately recognize the attractiveness of the female, and drop my gaze towards a soda-pop cup from some generic fast food restaurant. I distinctly remember thinking to myself that I didn't want to impose or otherwise jeopardize this relationship. While I am certainly not any Don-Juan sort of figure, I have noticed over time that people occasionally take interest. This usually confuses me, not for a lack of self-esteem, but for a general cluelessness of what I am doing that could be perceived as intriguing. Near as I can tell, I am living my life as I have been for some time now, although I am prone to fits of laughter at the general ridiculous of life, especially when the current moment is absolutely ridiculous, minus the derision, extra side of laughter, hold the contempt, and could you put two napkins in the bag? I might laugh so long I forget to swallow, and I'll need to be able to wipe up the drool. While the situation itself is completely the same with all the same people and social context, I am now in my old basement from Indiana, and I go upstairs to fill my cup. Not noticing a thing. In retrospect, this is somewhat bewildering. The upstairs is counter-intuitively an old friend's house who lived down the street, but this is more of a foggy duplicate made after a night of heavy drinking than an exact replica. Walking into a bedroom to lie down and watch the television, I have apparently forgotten about that cup altogether. Some children come in with smiles on their faces, and I smile back. Always smile to a child. The world is a friendly place, or could be, and most children have yet to learn otherwise. Immediately, their mother walks in to either clean or pretend clean, that activity that allows supervision but defeats any claims of doing so. She is quite obviously displeased with something given her expression. Feeling guilty for no reason... I leave this room and get to the basement door, which is in the kitchen. The mother also enters the kitchen and mentions something about how I am on the baseball team, which I completely do not understand since I am not nor have ever been on a baseball team. I shrug it off and walk downstairs. In this basement of emergency vehicles, I spot two new people, a boy and a girl. The boy has an orange helmet on his head as if he needs constant protection from the world or extra insulation for his noggin. There is a slight possibility he is Juggarnaut in training. He's discussing with this girl, also cute, about how he could go to France. In the meantime, I am sorting through what appears to be a color graphing calculator, or at least the circuit boards for it. It is clearly beyond whatever is available now, and yet the circuitry is deceptively simple unless you spot the bulk of the chips located at the bottom of the boards. "Elle, I could go to France?" The statement is meant as...a statement, but comes out in the form of a question. Immediately, I get the impression that this helmet might be intended for protection and she might be a legal guardian of some sort. I leave once again to not interfere or otherwise alter their situation. Clearly, this is something you should consider attending to in life. Glancing at something, maybe a super Nintendo, I hear Elle stand up and talk to an old friend of mine from work. Remarks are exchanged about a very personal problem, and my friend looks at me. They're talking about rape, fyi. "...and then we heard 'computer god' and got you out of there." While I am sure this statement started with 'and', at least, the part intended for me, I only remember it expressed in a surprisingly neutral tone. I am also unsure of whether the phrase was 'got you' or 'pulled you'. Obviously, this drastically changes the nature of the statement. "Who told you that?" "Some friend of yours. It's not important." In a tone you'd use to talk about the weather, "I'm not sure anyone knows how hard I worked at that place." I glance back up at my friend. The look that she gives me is completely out of place and is accompanied by her tone. I walk into my fathers office to notice a burning cigarette and an extinguished cigar. There's a pile of ashes near the cigarette holder, but they're more like long chains of ash as if a densely packed cigarette was left to burn. I extinguish the cigarette and have a quick flash of something my father said but not in real life . As I walk back outside, I notice that my friend and Elle are still standing there, and my friend's expression is still out of place. A quick look around the room explains it all. There's no one here besides me and the two of them, and I need to go the fuck away so that Elle can talk about how she was raped. I apologize by saying, "I'm sorry, I'll get out of your way," and walk up the stairs. NOTE: This was a Dream. Due to some of its...controversial or high potential for misunderstanding nature, I thought I would include this disclaimer. Labels: Dreams | ||
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