(10/4/04) punk rock cafe; casa bonita hotel

(Dreams only written in daytime paper journal. No time/place info given.)

Dream 1

I was in a bright cafe that was packed with people. It looked like a bar, but it was a cafe. It was morning. I think it was even a cold morning. But it was warm in the cafe. The cafe was bright and felt open in spite of people all being almost right on top of each other. The walls were white, and there was a window wall out front to the busy street. It was as if everybody here knew each other, like we were all in some club or group together.

I sat at the bar. There was a beautiful, blonde waitress or barista in a white, button-up shirt taking people's orders and generally being friendly and/or flirtatious. I didn't feel like I fit in. I felt like I was being grumpy or stupid around all these well-put-together, happy, mature people.

I listened to some music that was playing on a stereo right behind me. As I listened I took the lead from the guitar chords (it was a punk song) and starting riffing off a new song to myself. I was really excited. It felt good to be riffing off an upbeat song, a punk song. And I was actually making a complexly structured song, with three or four melodic sections. I got pretty excited, though I half-wondered whether I wasn't just singing directly from the CD or at least so close that it didn't count, anyway.

But I also think that on a very low level I knew I was dreaming, because I told myself, Remember what you're doing. Remember the song you're creating. And I meant it like I would tell myself, Remember your dream. (Of course I didn't remember the song.)

The song on the CD player now ended. Some slower, sadder song came on. I wanted to listen to the CD song again, though, so I could get my own song memorized. Plus, oddly, I really liked the song playing, and I was kind of upset that by creating my own song I had missed hearing the actual song itself.

So I got up and worked my way a few feet back to the CD player. I was about to replay the song, but I suddenly felt like everybody was looking at me, especially a kind of mean, judgmental guy. I didn't want to replay the song and have them all stare at me.

Someone asked me, "What are you doing? Do you wnat to replay that song? Well, just ask XXXXX." (The waitress.)

The waitress was now walking down toward me, not behind the bar, but down the crowded aisle between the bar and seats. I asked her if I could replay the song. She apparently said yes, because I hit what I thought was the replay button. I don't know what happened after that, but I'm pretty sure the song I wanted didn't play.

Dream 2

I was walking through some restaurant area like a Casa Bonita mixed together with a hotel. It was all beige and full of ramps and hills and table booths. Then I was in a stairwell.