dreams: April 14, 1998
a housing claim on Parrish Beach
I'm running around with some friends on a steep huge hill of green mowed grass.
It's a lot of fun. I'm running and rolling really fast. I zoom by
Justin Hall, who is sitting cross-legged; someone
is behind him cutting his hair. It looks like a buzz cut.
We're choosing housing for next year. I somehow get one of the most popular
locations, only for seniors. It's a tiny piece of land on Parrish Beach, right in front
of the building. I'm next to a bunch of others, with no space in between our properties.
I ask someone to make the boundaries clearer, so they spray paint the lines bright white.
I walk over and stand in my "room." It is teeny-tiny, the size of my closet, just barely
big enough for a bed and a desk, if they were butted up against each other. It feels
a little clausterphobic when I imagine it with walls. I walk to a nearby room along
the edge. It is a lot bigger (like a walk-in closet), with its own little bathroom (like
an outhouse). Janitors are going around cleaning the toilets.
Phoebe is somehow in my dream.
I decide that I'm going to request a room change. I can't stand the size of mine, even
if I am in the perfect location, surrounded by fellow seniors.
- FIN -