20 Years

At my 20-year high school reunion (actually happening this year and to which I cannot go), the room teemed with people. And everyone's fates made sense to me: tall willowy Kristen was a dancer and choreographer; Christine had just left an abusive marriage. My gay friend Mark was wandering around in a pink coat, not really talking to anyone. There were of course the usual dream intruders: an East-Indian looking fellow in a tweed vest chided me for not saying hello to him. In the dream I dimly remembered him but in Life I schooled with no such person.

When Josh (my reunion date) went to take a picture of the Senior Prom King and Queen, Bob and Kathy, and another couple, I wept with nostalgia. I wore my Junior Prom dress, a frilly blue concoction, and recalled fondly having been crowned Queen. Even as I marked who was there and visited with them, my mind catalogued so many others I wanted to see. But, in the usual enormity of dreams, I didn't get to everyone in the room.

Transport & Trailing

In one scene, I was stopping at my friend Dawn's house, which in the dream was tres moderne, circular and modular, while she wasn't home. I was with other, unidentified people, and when I emerged into the street, a dirty-faced, South American street urchin--a girl about ten--kept following me and saying, "Take me with you; you have to take care of me." I dodged her then, but she reappeared later and I grudgingly took her with me.

The scene shifted and then I was in a train station, waiting for train after train until I could get on. There were masses of people--troops of soldiers, faces I recognized from high school, the rich and famous. (At one point I sat next to a prominent and well-known gent named Victor or Alexander, I can't recall which). But I couldn't ever get on the train; my companions (again, unidentifed) procured themselves some peppermint schnapps, but I declined to partake. We did finally board a train, but then I awakened.