Dream 1
I was in a large room like two or three living rooms put together. The light was low, warm, and classy. I was mainly in the company of young women. We all spoke about certain vases we owned. Many of these vases had a specifically Mexican feel or look. But some of them just looked modern. I don't remember if I owned one or if I was just interested in them (i.e. having seem them at houses or in museums).
All the girls spoke about how some artist-looking man had either sold or given them these vases only implying that they had come from a special place in Mexico and Mexican history or that they had come from the hands of a mystical artist with some kind of well-known connection, mystical or aesthetic, to the past of Mexico or the Southwest.
Some of the women knew art history and theory passably, but they couldn't figure out what time period or region these strange and intriguing vases came from. I myself was just trying to remember some of these vases and whether I'd liked the ones I'd seen.
Across from me were two chairs or two couches. In the left one sat a woman with a silver "vase" like a thick, almost trophy-like, chalice like something one might see by Nambe.
She showed it to the woman in the right chair/couch. The woman said, "This? Oh, you've been fooled. I think you've all been fooled. This is nothing. It has no history behind it. It has no merit. It's worthless. And you're worthless for having trusted that man."
The left woman cried in shame. She stopped crying so strongly after a few seconds and looked up to the right woman. She gave her a look which I interpreted as asking, Am I worth anything? and then took off her shirt and embraced the right woman, kissing her. The two women walked over to a group of women at the left wall. All those women began stripping and making out.
The woman who had been on the left couch turned around and looked at me or in my direction, beckoning. I wasn't sure she was looking at me, so I stayed sat in my space on the couch. I didn't want to go over, anyway, because I didn't want the mean girls to tell me I was ugly or worthless. All the girls seemed to be huddled in two or three orgiastic heaps now.
Now some guys, maybe six at most, appeared, but as if they had always been there. They were all pale white, thin, tall, with long, long hair and long, whole thin beards, in boxer shorts that looked too big on them. They all trudged like sleepwalkers over to a couch by me and had an orgy. Some of them disappeared or dissolved as soon as they lay down, like they had fallen into a pit of pure shadow.
One guy looked up at me, beckoning. I looked away. I wasn't interested in being with such ugly, scraggly guys. I now thought, despairing, Isn't there anybody else on this planet who feels the way I feel about sex?
The back wall of the room was now gone, revealing some tacky, bamboo-lined bar on some beach in the dead of night. Two or three girls sat on the stools, their backs to me. They were continuing some conversation about art. I didn't want to be part of the conversation. But I wanted to belong somehow.
The girls looked slovenly over their shoulders at me. I looked away. They didn't want me around. I looked back to the living room. The whole room was full of groups of girls having sex.
But on a couch were two or three girls just sitting there, talking. I was about to sit down with them to talk. But then I realized the only reason they were talking was to entice me, to try to get me to make a sexual move on them. i knew I couldn't do it. So I just sat there. And now the girls started feeling rejected.
