Dream #1
I was walking across an enormous bridge in the bright daylight. The bridge seemed to be just a walkway where I was.
I was just coming out of a tunnel part of the bridge and heading back down (across a river like the East River) when my old co-worker MW called from behind me. I turned to face MW. He was wearing a pale yellow shirt. MW and I spoke about some work I had done. I laughed, either about how it was right or how it was wrong.
MW seemed to fade away behind me. I was back down on the ground by myself. I was walking alone through an area that looked like a closed-down amusement park. A lot of the "buildings" (booths, really) had airbrush paintings of scenes with Popeye on them. At one point I may have walked past a Popeye's restaurant. The booths seemed to crowd up all around me, blocking the direct sunlight to some degree.
Showing posts with label overcrowded. Show all posts
Showing posts with label overcrowded. Show all posts
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Sunday, November 11, 2012
(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.
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.
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