“Last night, I had the strangest dream…” or so the song goes. Well, I did. I am proud to report that I remember at least 3/4 of that dream and will relate it to you with all the gaps.In my dream, I’m at a dark, old apartment house or hotel of some sort. There is a large bottom area and the apartments are up a staircase. The staircase has a large banister, and landings. There is no elevator, so a trip upstairs really is a trip.
In the big room are a lot of young people and a lot of food. Tables are set up and the people are eating and very very excited. It turns out that they are part of an acting company that does “Glee” a popular television series, that I personally don’t follow. It makes me nervous to hear all the old rock tunes and new ones, through the mouths of these strangers. I understand they are very talented and it’s a great show, but it’s not for me. So these people are on the way to New York City and are going to film the TV show. As I walk through the room to go upstairs to my destination, I hear a young man say “Hi, Joanne,” or something like that, and I am very happy.
Once I raise myself to the floor where I knock on a door to go in, I see a young girl standing there. I ask her what she wants. She says “I’m not going.” Apparently, she is disgruntled with the whole acting thing and wants to hide in the apartment with me and my girlfriend.
I call her my girlfriend, because I know it is another woman, I think it was a woman of color, who answered the door. At this point, there is a blank as to what the little girl finally did.
I do recall coming up the stairs and holding on to the banister, as I do to prevent falls or even dizziness if I should look down. But my hand brushes over some exposed, loose wires that are hanging over the banister. I look up and to see a wonderful, huge chandielier hanging over the stairwell. It is obviously priceless, but when I touched the wires, I manage to make it turn off. So I am worried now as to how liable I am to have destroyed the real centerpiece of the building.
Guilt takes over, and I meander to one of the stiarcase landings, where the person in charge of these things spends her days staring at a computer screen. She is alone and never talks to anyone, but seems content and perfect for that job. I tell her about my accidental damage to the light, and there is a blank after that. But no hard feelings. I did wonder what happened, and apparently never found out the resolution to the problem. The young, thin, tall woman at the computer is also a woman of color, with a shock of hair that I really admired.
Now I’m inside the apartment, and my friend is busy setting up and polishing a collection of small fiurines and pieces that a rich woman who lived or lives in the building has left behind, either from dying or well, just floating away. After all, this is a dream.
She calls me over and tells me to check the exquisiteness of the glass and pieces in the collection. In fact, we exclaim, how can so much beauty be in such small spaces! I witness one of them, a glass transparent head like a bust, and another that is in the shape of a glass castle. When we touch them, the castle emits colorful, shiny stars inside of it traveling upwards. Like a snowglobe, but the colored pieces are traveling up from the bottom of the piece. Similarly, the head shaped piece also colorfully fills when we touch it. We marvel at the beauty of these things and the other pieces in this collection, than the scene goes blank.
What are all these pieces but bits of what I did the day before. What are all these thoughts but how I want things to be. Small, simple, yet beautiful. Friends appearing, new and old. Being able to be completely honest about a mistake and not expecting animosity.
That is why this is called, “dream, on.”