Unsettling Dream
The reality iis that Good Friday could not have gone better, Mass was efficientl, cerebral and dignified. There were twelve stations of The Cross this year and the congregtion was still let out in exactly thre hours. Richard, Paradise and I all occupied the same row of oews. Richard and I looked as if we'd called each other before dressing; we had the same ensemble: black jeans, a black crew necked shirt and athletic shoes. The end of Lent is just around the corner and the day could not have been a nicer. So, how to explain this strange dream I've just had?
It had a hint of foreign travel. There were suitcases to be tracked and transferred to different venues. I think we were staying in a hotel. When I say, "we" I should explain that this dream included Paradise and I about three or four other people whose identities remain elusive, but I assume -- wait I'm getting flashes of Big Brother, also -- but, I'm assuming everyone else was from St. Michaels.
Things happened very quickly> one second we're arriving in our hotel and the next we're having dinner at a quiet restaurant. The whole thing may have been prompted by the fact that a goup of us went out for brunch today, after Good Friday services. But, that's where the similarity stops. This dream ended on a very ugly note.
The dessert tray came around and because some of us had dietary issues, we declined having any. [NOTE: The Rector was dining at the same restaurant we had brunched on Good Friday and there was quite a bit of friendly banter about waistlines, protein and "carbs".] But, in the dream, the staff took exception to our refusal and things escalated very quickly to the point where Paradise dealt the race card. In no time at all, a disembodied voice announced over the PA system that "a car has arrived with your name on it."" and, sure enough there was a cab of some sort with graffiti written across it, but, it was mostly nonesense, something like, "I am a cab".
I tried to summon the manager but there was none or rather, everyone claimed to be acting on the manager's orders. I grabbed a piece of paper on which to write a note, realized I didn't have a pen with me and grabbed the first pen that I saw -- from one of the workers. This stoked their anger even more. and, of course, because this was a dream, the pen didn't work properly and all I could write were the words, "We were hit" in very illegible block letters.
On our way to the cab, we saw some of our baggage resting on a shelf in some corridor. I specifically remember not seeing mine. And, then I woke up. And, now I have this rather sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that 1) it was brought on by guilt at having a little too good a time on Good Friday and 2) had I just awakened a few seconds earlier that it would have been a perfectly nice dream.
It had a hint of foreign travel. There were suitcases to be tracked and transferred to different venues. I think we were staying in a hotel. When I say, "we" I should explain that this dream included Paradise and I about three or four other people whose identities remain elusive, but I assume -- wait I'm getting flashes of Big Brother, also -- but, I'm assuming everyone else was from St. Michaels.
Things happened very quickly> one second we're arriving in our hotel and the next we're having dinner at a quiet restaurant. The whole thing may have been prompted by the fact that a goup of us went out for brunch today, after Good Friday services. But, that's where the similarity stops. This dream ended on a very ugly note.
The dessert tray came around and because some of us had dietary issues, we declined having any. [NOTE: The Rector was dining at the same restaurant we had brunched on Good Friday and there was quite a bit of friendly banter about waistlines, protein and "carbs".] But, in the dream, the staff took exception to our refusal and things escalated very quickly to the point where Paradise dealt the race card. In no time at all, a disembodied voice announced over the PA system that "a car has arrived with your name on it."" and, sure enough there was a cab of some sort with graffiti written across it, but, it was mostly nonesense, something like, "I am a cab".
I tried to summon the manager but there was none or rather, everyone claimed to be acting on the manager's orders. I grabbed a piece of paper on which to write a note, realized I didn't have a pen with me and grabbed the first pen that I saw -- from one of the workers. This stoked their anger even more. and, of course, because this was a dream, the pen didn't work properly and all I could write were the words, "We were hit" in very illegible block letters.
On our way to the cab, we saw some of our baggage resting on a shelf in some corridor. I specifically remember not seeing mine. And, then I woke up. And, now I have this rather sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that 1) it was brought on by guilt at having a little too good a time on Good Friday and 2) had I just awakened a few seconds earlier that it would have been a perfectly nice dream.