Dream: Damn That Santa
Monday, June 12th
I returned to my old house in Stevens Point. We sold it years ago, and in the dream I hadn't seen it since then. The new owner had subdivided it into apartments (which is what it was built for, anyhow) and made everything look fancier. I commented to someone that I couldn't believe they'd knocked out the second floor... given it that flying walkway look that's so popular in the suburbs these days. (I hate that look; it feels anemic, and I always think of how much more useful that space would be as rooms on separate floors. Seeing it done to my old house, which actually had been two separate floors... I felt ill.)
The place seemed much bigger with all that space cleared. Lavender steel walkways connected the rooms around the sides of the second floor. Fashionable yuppies came and went; a svelt woman in a black and white skirt and blazerdark hair, early 30'spushed past me with a stroller on her way out. I found the suite where I was staying, but a line of strangers waited for the chance to step inside. (Mostly adults, only a couple children.)
I stalked to the front of the line, angry at Santa for pulling this crap again.
Santa, a cute brunette in her early 20's, sat in a large chair, waiting for the next man or woman to sit in her lap. She got scared when I stormed into the foyer, and I realized she knew nothing about this... it must've been a different Santa last time. (So someone was sending Santas to my room?) I walked past her into the bedroom so I could find my dresser and change clothes.
Wrong dresser. I looked in Santa's front room, but all I found were socks. Didn't want to change here anyhow. I looked at five more dressers, credenzas, and secretaries down the length of the marble hallway, then started back again; maybe I'd missed it. I counted eight from where I stood. I complained to someone passing by that they were all old furniture from when this had been our house, so any one of them could've had my clothes.
An older woman with short, dark hair walked by as I mentioned again I couldn't believe they'd knocked out the floor. Realizing it was the owner, I said it looked nice, that I didn't mean to denigrate her efforts, but.... She strolled away with her attendants. I went back to checking for my clothes.
Seven dressers later I pulled open a drawer stuffed with fashionable winter ties from a few seasons back. Bright blue diamond-shapes studded alternating blocks of the shiny red silk tie. I shoved the drawer shut, then saw some sneakers had shod me, patterned just like the tie. I wrenched them from my feet and hurled them down the hall, trying to get the attention of a family walking through. One only made it halfway, the other nearly reached them before hitting a doorjam, then it bounced almost all the way back. The man said something about being stronger in his younger days.
I staggered further into the suite, past another five dressers, and turned the corner into a bustling bowling alley. No one was playing, though, just walking briskly in front of the lanes, turning out the entrance or headed for whatever lay at the far wall. It felt like part of train terminal. I noticed a guy I'd seen before, carrying a backpack and skateboard. He checked his mail in a small box on the wall, then dropped his board onto a lane. He skated towards where the pins should have been, crouched as he went up the small ramp at the end, then dropped away out of sight to the daylit street below.
Theo headed for the same set of mail boxes. I feared she'd disappear just as fast, even though she didn't have a skateboard. I ran up and hugged her.
"I haven't seen you in years," I said, "and I can't find my dresser."
She looked pleasantly surprised, but gave me a stern look anyway. "I know," she said, "You don't call, you don't write...."
"But I didn't know how to find you," I protested.
"643-272-1805? tl4502@yahoo.com?" I desperately tried to remember the strings of numbers, but they were already turning to jelly.
She'd gained a little weight... all in bone structure; her shoulders were six inches wider. She mentioned something about her younger brother, Tim (Ann's older brother), who even now stumbled intently closer.
I returned to my old house in Stevens Point. We sold it years ago, and in the dream I hadn't seen it since then. The new owner had subdivided it into apartments (which is what it was built for, anyhow) and made everything look fancier. I commented to someone that I couldn't believe they'd knocked out the second floor... given it that flying walkway look that's so popular in the suburbs these days. (I hate that look; it feels anemic, and I always think of how much more useful that space would be as rooms on separate floors. Seeing it done to my old house, which actually had been two separate floors... I felt ill.)
The place seemed much bigger with all that space cleared. Lavender steel walkways connected the rooms around the sides of the second floor. Fashionable yuppies came and went; a svelt woman in a black and white skirt and blazerdark hair, early 30'spushed past me with a stroller on her way out. I found the suite where I was staying, but a line of strangers waited for the chance to step inside. (Mostly adults, only a couple children.)
I stalked to the front of the line, angry at Santa for pulling this crap again.
Santa, a cute brunette in her early 20's, sat in a large chair, waiting for the next man or woman to sit in her lap. She got scared when I stormed into the foyer, and I realized she knew nothing about this... it must've been a different Santa last time. (So someone was sending Santas to my room?) I walked past her into the bedroom so I could find my dresser and change clothes.
Wrong dresser. I looked in Santa's front room, but all I found were socks. Didn't want to change here anyhow. I looked at five more dressers, credenzas, and secretaries down the length of the marble hallway, then started back again; maybe I'd missed it. I counted eight from where I stood. I complained to someone passing by that they were all old furniture from when this had been our house, so any one of them could've had my clothes.
An older woman with short, dark hair walked by as I mentioned again I couldn't believe they'd knocked out the floor. Realizing it was the owner, I said it looked nice, that I didn't mean to denigrate her efforts, but.... She strolled away with her attendants. I went back to checking for my clothes.
Seven dressers later I pulled open a drawer stuffed with fashionable winter ties from a few seasons back. Bright blue diamond-shapes studded alternating blocks of the shiny red silk tie. I shoved the drawer shut, then saw some sneakers had shod me, patterned just like the tie. I wrenched them from my feet and hurled them down the hall, trying to get the attention of a family walking through. One only made it halfway, the other nearly reached them before hitting a doorjam, then it bounced almost all the way back. The man said something about being stronger in his younger days.
I staggered further into the suite, past another five dressers, and turned the corner into a bustling bowling alley. No one was playing, though, just walking briskly in front of the lanes, turning out the entrance or headed for whatever lay at the far wall. It felt like part of train terminal. I noticed a guy I'd seen before, carrying a backpack and skateboard. He checked his mail in a small box on the wall, then dropped his board onto a lane. He skated towards where the pins should have been, crouched as he went up the small ramp at the end, then dropped away out of sight to the daylit street below.
Theo headed for the same set of mail boxes. I feared she'd disappear just as fast, even though she didn't have a skateboard. I ran up and hugged her.
"I haven't seen you in years," I said, "and I can't find my dresser."
She looked pleasantly surprised, but gave me a stern look anyway. "I know," she said, "You don't call, you don't write...."
"But I didn't know how to find you," I protested.
"643-272-1805? tl4502@yahoo.com?" I desperately tried to remember the strings of numbers, but they were already turning to jelly.
She'd gained a little weight... all in bone structure; her shoulders were six inches wider. She mentioned something about her younger brother, Tim (Ann's older brother), who even now stumbled intently closer.