Sunday, January 13, 2013

Dream: The hotel apartment

I found myself living in an enormous, open space, arranged in a long row like a hotel floor or a ship deck and was excited by the potential — all that room.

The entire family appeared, having driven hundreds of miles to see me. I was surprised, then horrified to find water leaking in through the ceiling in one room. As I walked around, I noticed garbage strewn everywhere. I had no idea how that had happened. I knew only that my interesting, spacious home mysteriously had become a sodden, smelly, uninhabitable mess. I was embarrassed and ashamed.

I wanted to call for help about the leak before it became worse or spread, but the family wouldn’t lend me a phone. Meanwhile, I found out Hodge had attacked V. Her inner forearm had been ripped open, and I could see that she needed stitches right away. She refused, however, even as she kept trying to make the torn edges meet. I apologized and could not imagine how he had done that kind of damage or what could have provoked him.

E. tried to persuade me to help a high school classmate, but for some reason I declined. As suddenly as the family had appeared, they disappeared. The leak stopped. I was left to clean up all the garbage that had proliferated out of control.

Even as I was swooping it up by the armfuls to get rid of it, I found that kids had thrown out many useful items and that I was going to have to sort through the smelly, decaying mess piece by piece. I was horrified and sickened by this turn my life had taken.

Next thing I knew, an infomercial was being taped in my apartment in one area, while I was in a play that involved my being swung around — until the electricity failed.

As suddenly as the family had appeared, I met two of my classmates, including TB, who as usual didn’t see me or know me or acknowledge me in any way. He’s never snobbish, just oblivious.

I found out the show was to continue in New Mexico, but I lost both classmates as the one who at least knew me had tired of me. I also learned that the apartment building manager had decided to use my apartment for public works, for example, large parts of it had been converted to soup kitchens. I wanted to say something to the manager but was still fixated on how I could be so invisible to the one human being I would like to see me. And on how V.’s arm could be saved without stitches.

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