Another Dollhouse Dream
Jan. 22nd, 2023 07:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraIn that nonlinear way dreams have that’s impossible to render in sequential language, I was simultaneously staging the American Civil War/rehearsing for a play/playing with a dollhouse.
The play was being put on by a group of Ben’s relatives (not his real-life relatives), and I disliked them intensely, could hardly believe I had agreed to appear in their play, nor that they had asked me—but I was the only person among them who could act. And even though they disliked me as intensely as I disliked them, they knew that.
The play was scheduled to begin at 6 pm.
Someone spilled liquid black ink on the dollhouse.
It was relatively easy to wash off, but then there was no more black ink, and I thought, How am I going to write in my diary?
So, I took RTT—in the dream, he was around six—and set off for the store.
The neighborhood Ben’s relatives’ drafty, dilapidated Victorian was located in looked a lot like Lopsang’s old neighborhood in Ithaca, that part of Ithaca near Cascadilla Creek where all the streets are named after American presidents. (Lopsang was my first Tibetan ESL student.)
RTT and I went into a toy store. In the dream, there was this sense that I had visited the toy store many, many, many times before because they had the most magnificent assortment of dollhouse furniture and incredibly lifelike dolls.
But now, it was too soon after Christmas. The toy store was sold out of everything but the crappiest-looking dolls and furniture.
RTT, who was not of the age yet where he could distinguish between value and crap, just wanted me to buy something, buy for the sheer joy of buying.
Went three stores down the street to a drugstore to buy a pack of cigarettes. Had to stand on a line and noticed Jean-Luc was standing at the end of that line. (Jean-Luc is an old Berkeley boyfriend.) Didn’t want Jean-Luc to see me buying cigarettes.
But when I got to the front of the line, it turned out that the drugstore didn’t carry the cigarettes I wanted. In fact, they hardly carried any cigarettes at all except for Native American reservation brands that I didn’t like.
So, I left without buying any.
Happened to glance up at the wall clock in the drugstore. It said ten to six.
Oh, shit, I thought. I’m barely gonna get back in time for the start of the play! And I haven’t even memorized my lines yet.
You go on ahead, I told RTT because he could run much faster than me. Tell them I’ll be there.
And then I woke up.
The play was being put on by a group of Ben’s relatives (not his real-life relatives), and I disliked them intensely, could hardly believe I had agreed to appear in their play, nor that they had asked me—but I was the only person among them who could act. And even though they disliked me as intensely as I disliked them, they knew that.
The play was scheduled to begin at 6 pm.
Someone spilled liquid black ink on the dollhouse.
It was relatively easy to wash off, but then there was no more black ink, and I thought, How am I going to write in my diary?
So, I took RTT—in the dream, he was around six—and set off for the store.
The neighborhood Ben’s relatives’ drafty, dilapidated Victorian was located in looked a lot like Lopsang’s old neighborhood in Ithaca, that part of Ithaca near Cascadilla Creek where all the streets are named after American presidents. (Lopsang was my first Tibetan ESL student.)
RTT and I went into a toy store. In the dream, there was this sense that I had visited the toy store many, many, many times before because they had the most magnificent assortment of dollhouse furniture and incredibly lifelike dolls.
But now, it was too soon after Christmas. The toy store was sold out of everything but the crappiest-looking dolls and furniture.
RTT, who was not of the age yet where he could distinguish between value and crap, just wanted me to buy something, buy for the sheer joy of buying.
Went three stores down the street to a drugstore to buy a pack of cigarettes. Had to stand on a line and noticed Jean-Luc was standing at the end of that line. (Jean-Luc is an old Berkeley boyfriend.) Didn’t want Jean-Luc to see me buying cigarettes.
But when I got to the front of the line, it turned out that the drugstore didn’t carry the cigarettes I wanted. In fact, they hardly carried any cigarettes at all except for Native American reservation brands that I didn’t like.
So, I left without buying any.
Happened to glance up at the wall clock in the drugstore. It said ten to six.
Oh, shit, I thought. I’m barely gonna get back in time for the start of the play! And I haven’t even memorized my lines yet.
You go on ahead, I told RTT because he could run much faster than me. Tell them I’ll be there.
And then I woke up.
