(11/5/09) good impressions aren't worthwhile

(Entered in dream journal at 7:30 AM at Sit & Wonder cafe in Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

I was somewhere indeterminate, hearing a young man telling me, as if we were speaking on the phone, that he would meet me for our interview at XXXXX. I knew I was going to interview for either a room or an apartment. The young man had told me to meet him near the room. He had also told me some of the difficulties I might have have living there: something to do with the shower or the kitchen.

I was now in the building. The building was a square, with a lot of open space in the center, like and atrium or a lobby, and all the rooms along the walls. There was a half-ceiling over the floor just in front of the rooms, like a second-story balcony ran along the walls. There were squarish, cheapish columns spaced somewhat closely at the edges of the balcony. In the center of the "atrium" was a seating area, with comfortable chairs, soft, with fake leather upholstery, sat around a square or rectangular rug.

I continued to hear the conversation between me and the young man for a little while longer. I might have looked into a room with a slightly open door, looking into dimness, possibly seeing a bed.

I then pulled out a book (from my bag?), sat in one of the nice chairs, and started to read. The book seemed to have and not to have a cover. The cover looked like the first edition cover of Philip K. Dick's The Man in the High Castle. The book was a paperback, about the size and thickness of an old Stephen King novel, like Christine. I thumbed through some of the pages.

At some point I looked back over my right shoulder and saw one or two rooms with open doors. The lights were on in both rooms, which were in the corner. I knew one of these rooms was the young man's room.

I hoped the young man would be impressed that I was reading this book, which was thick and slightly difficult. But then I remembered that this book was also thought of as pulp, which some people felt wasn't intellectually worthwhile. I knew I had to make a positive personal impression, since my history wasn't the most positive the young man would encounter.

Looking into the rooms, I saw a couple beds in each room, as well as cubicle-like room dividers. It looked like each room may actually have held more than two beds. The beds had no blankets. The sheets on the bed were dull blue, a shade darker and duller than surgeon's scrubs.

I thought, Well -- wasn't I moving into a room by myself? Wasn't that the good deal, in spite of the kitchen and bathroom not being great? I thought, Is the young man still living here, and that's why I have to make a good impression? Because we'll be living in the same room?

I tried to figure how many people lived in each room, and I tried to figure whether what I would pay would be a good deal after all, if more than two people lived in the room. I didn't think it was a good deal. I vaguely remembered the price, and I realized it wasn't much lower than what I'd been paying for my apartment. To pay this much to live in a room full of people didn't seem right.

I felt nervous. Before now, I'd thought I'd be able to save some money by living here. Now I realized that, even if this place had been a good deal, I still wouldn't be saving much money. Nevertheless, I still felt like I needed to make a good impression, so I could get into this place.

I might have seen my old landlord from a rented room I'd lived in in Brooklyn a few years back. I then also realized that I didn't have a job. I wondered how I'd convince the young man that I was a good candidate for this room despite the fact that I didn't have a job.