Arranged meeting

I am driving my car around a field taking pictures of four abandoned VW beetles. I’m driving in circles to take pictures from different angles. When I pull out to leave the gate is closed and a car is waiting in the drive. A man gets out and I get out to apologize. He acts angry and says that he is going to call my parents. I kinda laugh , then lie and say I’m 31 years old, my parents are dead. With this the man seems to get friendlier and says to follow him, we’re going to take care of this. He takes me down and across the road to an old garage. He is evidentially a mechanic. We go into a room off the garage, it looks like an unused store. There are boxes of nails on shelves and old street signs hanging about. The man’s daughter is in the room, she looks to be in her 40s. The man says we’re done here, but it doesn’t seem like I’m supposed to leave. I keep standing there looking around and wondering what I’m supposed to do.

Boom with the boss

Jan inviting Brooke and I to her Fourth of July party.

Rocking out

At beach, sitting on a rock. The rock hovers into the air then flies higher and higher. I am holding on, hanging from the edge of the rock, my body dangling below it. Some one is flying near me on another rock. We think about dropping to a river below, but we are too high and the current is going the wrong way. The rock drifts down slowly and as it approaches the ground, I step gently onto the sand and out of the way. The rock turns into a motorcycle as it touches the ground and drives away.

Track snack

I am with some kind of tour group at a Nascar type racetrack. 2 or 3 female tour guides in blue and white outfits herd us towards the track. We spilt into groups of 5 or 6 and my group approaches a racecar sitting on the blacktop. It looks like a normal Nascar racecar that you see on tv. But then all of us climb into in it. I am standing up inside in the car and holding onto a roll bar that runs up from the floor and cross the ceiling just behind the driver seat. A driver wearing a jumpsuit like all the Nascar drivers do slides in the driver’s seat and starts up the engine. We zoom around the track and I stick my slightly out the window for a better view. The car sounds and looks like we’re going hundreds of miles an hour, but I don’t feel any wind or pressure. The feelings don’t match up, but the thing I think is odd is that no one is strapped in or buckled up. I wave to one of the tour guide girls as we go by where they are standing. She smiles at me and I think about flirting with her some more. But the car stops and lets us out at a different point on the track. The group is herded past a fence of horizontal wooden rails that look like raw lumber. We walk into a snack bar that looks like it belongs at an old drive in or little league park. I read the menu board listing coke and candy bars and try to decide if I want a hot dog.

For the fans

I am at a basketball game. From the perspective of on the court I see a guy throw water on a referee. I assume it is water even though the guy is holding a big waxed paper cup that beer is served in. Somehow I know that the ref has slept with the guy’s wife. Then I am in the stands and one of the guys I am with starts beating up a guy in the row in front of him. He is waving some kind of pot or frying pan and keeps pressing it into the guy’s face, not hitting him with it, just rubbing it in his face as if it was a cream pie. I merge the two incidents into one in my mind. Suddenly there are several TV crews there with cameramen and reporter trying to shove mikes into our faces. I sit there stony faced but acknowledge one female reporter. She asks me a question about what is happening and points the mike at me. I say, “Buy less, Live more.” And feel proud of myself for taking advantage of the moment. I stand up and with the guys I am with behind me, walk through the crowd and down the steps. Our faces are tightly composed and I feel like by stonewalling we just glide through and out into the sunlight of the parking lot.

Over the river and through the woods

I’m looking at a giant house, like a mansion or compound. There is a river behind it and a creek running around the front. It sits atop a rocky hill. I’m playing in the creek, poking a stick at a bunch of grass, sticks and dead fish that have clogged a small tributary of the creek. I flip over one of the dead fish and it look fake, like it is craved out of wood. Several of the fish are also fake but I see real ones swimming around.
Next I am climbing around the branches of a winding tree across the creek from the house. I am up so high I can see over the house and across the river, it looks more like a lake. The tree is covered in rough, grooved bark with knots that stick up like bumps. There is a group of young girls there. (below the tree and wading in the water.) They are younger than teenagers, but seem older. One of them talks to me.

Office politics

In a hallway of a hotel or office building, I’m in a standoff with 3 other people. Am I after them or are they after me? I see a clock on the wall and the reflection of a gun on its surface. I make a move but a man yells “Not so fast!” and throws a stick of dynamite down the hall. I run for it but am hit with a dart. I don’t know if it is a tranquilizer or poison. I pull it out and head for the elevator. I have to wait for several people to get on before I can enter.

You're fired

My cube at work has been moved. So has everyone's. There is now a couch that looks like it belong in someone’s grandmother’s house in front of my door. Piled all around in huge stacks are packing material, papers and large cardboard tubes like the kind that carpet comes on.

Rain

Walking through a town that is a hybrid of Louisville, KY and Fayetteville, AR. I walk past a row of storefronts. Outside are several 50s kitchen tables and chairs. It is dark so I use a small spot light to look at them. Just beyond is a farmhouse with all kinds of cool junk in the large yard. I remember it from a previous dream as a snack bar / arcade. There are rusted, welded sculptures and old pinball machines. I see a large square table that has the same clown art as Mom and Dad’s pinball machine, but the surface of the table is a baseball game with holes at the bases and positions. Several plastic eggs are sitting there as balls. It is covered with dirt and grime. I want it and think about looking into buying it. Wonder how much it will be. As I go inside the front door, I am greeting by a large old woman. She is kind and welcoming. Brooke suddenly joins me. She explains that the house and land belong to her family. And that an artist lives there. He is on the list of famous naked artists. I am impressed and don’t question what that means. Brooke and I take a walk around back to look at the sculptures and junk. There are piles of scrap metal around and smaller welded pieces the size of loafs of bread. There form a row near a small tree. I think that all of this will be hers and thus mine. We see a man, the artist on a tractor or truck across the field. We all wave and I tell Brooke that we have to go inside because it is about to rain. The sky is clear, but she follows me towards the house. Suddenly dark storm clouds blow in and it starts to rain. I grab her hand and run as the wind picks up to gusts. We see a dark funnel cloud coming over a far hill and trees. As we turn the corner of the house, we see another funnel cloud coming through town. Brooke runs ahead into the house and I stop on the porch to take a picture of each tornado with my digital camera. I am not happy with either shot but get my ass inside. We go through the house led by the old woman. We enter the kitchen and there is red glassware (bowls, glasses, vases, platters) in variations of the same color and pattern. They sit on a shelf and inside the refrigerator. I think it is odd to have empty glassware in the fridge, but close the door without saying anything. The woman has me pour water into glasses using a clear glass funnel with a handle. When it is moving or at an angle, no water falls out the bottom, but when it is over a glass, it pours. I don’t understand how it works and spill a few drops each time I approach a glass. I put the funnel back on top of a tall glass barometer. It is open at the top of the tip of the funnel to rest in the water inside.

On your mark

Running in a race that starts at a farmhouse. A small group of people (about 15) is waiting to start. I take off first. I’m not sure if we are starting in waves or if I am cheating on a false start, but I know I will lose. I follow a long, winding, concrete trail through a park.