Super Sleuth

Reading an email thread on my fernt.com account. One of the guys tells about a girl that is pregnant. His email says something about her age being 20 and counting back from the due date, she first got pregnant at the age of 12. Brooke replies that she doesn’t get it. And the math doesn’t make sense to me either. Fred replies, “just follow the clues” and spells it out. But then I scroll down and a cartoon squirrel in a fedora and trench coat appears on screen. It is the Squirrel P.I. on the case. Underneath him is a sentence that lists out a clue like a mathematical formula. Each clue mentions some kind of weird machine or device that the detective squirrel uses to break the clue. There are several of these Cartoon/Clues in a row and after reading each one, the squirrel takes the device or book mentioned and puts them in a pocket of his coat or into a satchel.

Someone else's memories

At Grandma and Grandpa’s but it doesn’t really look like their house. I’m looking at a bunch of old photos or flyers. One of Aunt Linda sticking her tongue out. Above her are printed the words “IM MARRY” in big bold type. I wonder why she never married and if she would be more attractive without her tongue sticking out. Next I look at a flyer or news photo of mom in a cool basement. The picture was taken from the top of the stairs. There is cool mod furniture on a black and white tiled floor with a shag throw rug with large circles of bold colors like red. Mom is singing or playing guitar and the caption below the photo describes her band. Then I see my name. I check the photo and see a young me behind the drum set or keyboards. My head is barely sticking out above the instrument. My hair is straight and hanging over my eyes. I assume Stacy is the other toddler behind the instrument on the other side of Mom.

Dead or alive

2 huge pieces of meat – both the size of unfolded roadmaps are hanging on a wall. Each as a single large bolt through the center. They are hung one over the other at a diagonal angle. Next to them is a poster advertising some kind of show (film or awards maybe).

Driving with Dad in a silver car, mine maybe. He’s behind the wheel. We’re on a winding highway. I see an aerial view of the road; it has several straight sections connected by curvy areas. We come to a 4-way merge. 4 lanes from 4 directions cross each other at a diamond angle. There are no lights or signs to direct traffic. I yell for Dad to slow down and wait for an oncoming car. He does, then zooms through. We make it. Then we’re on a back road and pass a zoo. A crowd of people stream past us along the side of the road. Can’t tell if they are going in or leaving because I don’t know where the entrance is. We stop a little further on at a train crossing. There is an old locomotive pulling open air passenger cars that are full of people like it’s a ride around the zoo.

Numbers and letters

Walking down a street of old shops. I’m supposed to meet someone, Dave maybe. I go into an antique shop. It is a large space, like the size of a furniture showroom. Half of the space is covered in tarps like they’re remodeling. There are wrought iron chair in a row and other chairs with decorative floral patterns. I enter a section with a sign hanging above that says “Letters” and I look through all kinds of random typesetter letters and numbers and old address numbers and letters of different sizes from old signs. I go through them looking for 5s.

Pointless and futile

Staying in a hotel, my room is closer to ground level, maybe the 4th story of a tall building. My room has a view of the Empire State Building, but it is in the wrong city. It feels like the location of the St. Louis Arch (there is a church in the foreground) But instead of grass and the Mississippi River, there are warehouses and parking garages. I leave my hotel room and walk back and forth on a parking deck trying to find a good angle to take a picture of the Empire State Building. But the view is blocked by a large vertical neon sign of a business on a warehouse. Dave suggests an angle from the other end of the lot. Then we head to the beach to party with the Spring Breakers. A long wooden dock connects us to the sand where the girls in bikinis are.

Waiting for a city bus. I set my stuff down on the sidewalk and pick up the handle of some roller thing that looks like an old push lawnmower but with a solid cylinder instead of blades. It is a one-man, push manually powdered stream roller. I give it a shove and let it roll away from me on the street along the curb. There is random stuff in the gutter that looks like it was placed there on purpose. Maybe set down by other people waiting for the bus. The roller flattens the toes of a pair of women’s black dress shoes that look like a pair of Birkenstock clogs afterwards. The roller verves off course slightly just before rolling into a small pile of stuff. A guy on the sidewalk was watching the roller and is disappointed when it doesn’t flatten the pile. So I roll it back to the starting point and push it harder. It swerves wildly on a curve into the street and into the path of an oncoming bus. I dart out, grab the handle and pull the roller past just as the bus swooshes by. The bus pulls up to the curb right in front of my stuff. I see a cute girl waiting to board the bus. I run back across the street to catch it, but only make it along side as the bus pulls away. As it drives off, I smack the side of the bus once with my palm and yell. I turn to pick up my stuff and it is not there. I look up from the curb and the girl is standing there holding my stuff in her crossed arms. She hands it to me, it is mainly a few books including a bright orange one. I enthusiastically thank her and starts to walk off, leaving me stand there. But she gets in line at a storefront stand next to me to get a drink. I think if I should ask her to get a cup of coffee, but she already has the drink. I debate asking her out for a bite to eat. I wonder if she was trying to pick me up or encourage me to pick her up.

Let's go to the ball

Driving up to a big, cheap motel in the mountains. Meet BP and Mel when I get out of the car. We walk up a cement stairway towards their room. But instead of going there, we cross a wide, grassy courtyard. There are artists selling their work and musicians playing. We pass two women, one playing a homemade guitar made from small wooden planks. The other is playing some kind of stand up bass that doesn’t have a body. They sing as they play and it is a beautiful sounding country song. We walk inside and see a store with carved tribal instruments. There is a face above the strings. A guy strums one and starts singing the same song as the women. I can’t tell if he is inspired by them or making fun of them, but the song has lost it’s magic for me. Further inside we pass a ballroom full of slot machines and blackjack tables. It looks likes it’s set up for a convention. Someone says the name of the room we are looking for and I see a sign ahead hanging from the ceiling. It is a small arrow that has the name of our ballroom on it in gold letters.

Barrage

A guy with no shirt on is standing on a platform in what feels like a warehouse with an indoor swimming pool. He has my fraternity Greek letters tattooed across his chest and a giant rose on his stomach. He is giving a speech or just yelling. There are a few other guys with rose tattoos standing around. The guy talks about something like the order of roses like it’s a secret group and them mentions something about a rose movie that makes whoever watches it want to have sex.

A tall machine that consists of three legs with a large chair on top like a tripod. It breaks during a test run and one leg collapses. A scientist in a white lab coat explains how he will improve the next model, perhaps with extendable and retractable legs.

Walking through a resort area, I admire the architecture of a large hotel with hundreds of rooms designed to look like a mountain chalet. A woman on a large tire bike pedals past on a black top path and speaks to man outside a café about going down to the dock.
I am standing in the cul-de-sac of the house I grew up in Louisville. A car pulls up across the street and a redhead from work gets out. I greet her, put my arm around her waist and walk her towards the front lawn, where I introduce her to Brooke. There is a barbeque going on in the back yard. It starts to rain and Stacy and I clean up the house before the guests come in. I pick up folded laundry in the living room to put it away.

I drive past a series of strip malls in an unknown city. I pass one that has the offices of two advertising agencies. I recognize them, even though one is being remodeled and plywood covers the stone arch at its entrance.