I am trying to get a prestigious position in some group, either a chief EMT or judge, and there is one other person for competition. He is qualified, too, surely, but I don’t really know him or think about him. We both are in a dimly-lit room with several other people, including the older man that is about to announce his decision for successor to this job. There is a long couch and grandfather clock, both placed around the tall wooden desk you often see in courtrooms. The man says the boy’s name, and mine after- we are both to share the job. This is an outrage, and I would rather have not gotten the job at all. We both fight with the gentleman to make him just choose one person, but he vehemently suggests us both. We are discontented. The scene shifts and I’m in the front of an ambulance while someone else drives. We are going through a residential neighborhood on an EMT patrol tour, and the driver, a girl around my age, is explaining how things work. She says that we just have to wait for a call and then kick into action. It’s overcast and seems to be the evening.
I am in an Olympic-sized swimming pool with Brooke DelGuercio and Bret Robinson. We are in one lane all the way on the left side at the end. As we tread water, Ginny Kraft explains to us what motions we need to make in the water; the drill for the marching band show requires synchronized swimming. I am getting really freaked out because she is explaining complicated movements and I’m not a good swimmer. We are then swimming around in the pool, doing lengths to exercise. Bret is far ahead of us, but I somehow managed to pull ahead of Brooke by swimming on my back. This is surprising to me, and I get a little more happy and confident in the water.
I am in a patio garden at a small, classy party. The plants are very luscious and green around us. The foliage is almost tropical, with a few palms and other waxy-leaved plants. The stone path is a reddish color. The pit orchestra of “The Phantom Of The Opera” from Broadway is with me, and some instruments are out. I am standing near a small, wooden and iron bench with the principal violinist. He plays a few tunes and somehow I wind up with the instrument in playing position. I tell the violinist that I used to play violin, and try to bow out a simple melody from the show, so as not to embarrass myself too much. I start playing, though, and it sounds decent. I play out the melody to “All I Ask Of You” and it actually sounds good! My bowing makes the whole thing sound pretty, and it doesn’t feel awkward at all. None of the musicians are particularly astounded, but pleased to the point of chuckling at my personal triumph. All I can think is how cool it is to play and be in their presence, and wonder how I could possibly muster up this much skill from the terrible few violin years I had so long ago. The violin somehow disappeared, but the garden party was still really fun. There was also an average-sized greenhouse of foggy, bluish glass hidden partially by the thriving plant life. Inside was very pretty with greenery.
I get the seemingly brilliant idea that bananas should be tattooed in some way. I picture a banana in smile position with the stem facing left, and it’s late yellow with three ellipses lined up in the middle, separated by a centimeter, each. There is ink like from popsicle sticks printed on the middle of each ellipse with distinct words. Each word is like a different choice, and if you lift up that patch of peel, there will be more ink under with a word or answer to your selection.
I am walking in between the two backyards of some property. Other people are with me, friends, but they follow. We see a young wolf that is small, sitting in the grass, which is full green. One of the people I’m with tell me that he/she saw a wolf like this before and it was amazing to watch. We approach, and the wolf does not move. It eventually stretches it’s neck to howl several times, a mf, sad slow, howl. We are all seated or laying on the grass at this point, and understand that we should howl, too. We have somehow become lions at this point. I just feel weird sitting with this lonely baby wolf, so I start to walk off and leave, breaking into a run for some reason. Just as I turn the corner, people run around the corner of a house where we entered from, and they are trying to catch us. I am already at a running start, so I careen around a corner opposite their entry and continue running. I hope the others are escaping but I’m worried because they were just sitting and I was instinctually running. I see the rest of lions scatter in my third person perspective. I head up the yard which becomes the left-side yard of my house, when an evil Indian man faces me. He starts throwing things at me and saying horrible things about catch all of us. One of things he throws in a wet, bunched up paper towel, which I launch back at him. I am neither human nor lion right now- I just see this man’s malicious face.
I am in a room with few windows at very top of the walls, near the ceiling. It looks like the bottom floor of Faith Village, Bastrop, because of the plastic rectangular tables covered in cheap vinyl tablecloth. The chairs are the metal and plastic fold-up kind, scattered around without much organization, and the room is poorly lit. There are a bunch of people that I know or am friends with sitting around, and we decide to watch a movie. The square projector screen comes down at the far end of the room and the lights go off at some point, though there is still dimness in the room. I find a spot on the ground and sit down, and find Siva Shanmugan next to me. He scooches over and gestures for me to lean on his shoulder as the movie starts. I’m mildly surprised to see him because we haven’t caught up with each other in a long time, but I am not shocked because I feel like I’ve been at this camp place with him for a while.
I am in a cozy building that feels like a house. There are at least 2 adults around, and a little girl. We’re sitting at a light brown, upright piano in the middle of the room. I am teaching the girl how to lay “All I Ask Of You” from ”The Phantom Of The Opera.” She is doing pretty well, and I’m not frustrated with her, but she gets confused at one point, so I try to play it from memory for her, even though she probably has the music. I am amazed that I can play the song so flawlessly without music, but I don’t let it show because I’m giving her piano lessons. I get a little carried away, being swept up in the beauty of the song and keep playing past where she needs to fix her mistake. I can feel the admiring eyes of the others in the room upon me, and I just feel so happy with the music. I stop about halfway through so she can pick up where she started. The dream song is in the exact key as the movie recording.
Dream: I am playing with my phone as I try to fall asleep in my bed at home. I touch the call section and am about to call Mom.
Transitory: I’m laying on my side, facing the windows, not aware that I’m dreaming.
Reality: The phone rings on my nightstand immediately when I’m about to dream call Mom, and it’s Brooke DelGuercio asking me to go to a car dealership with her. I feel no struggle to “wake up” because I wasn’t truly sleeping- just half asleep or hallucinating.