Boring – run, run away!

I had this dream last night that I am now going to subject you to.

I was getting home really late.  But it was a home I’ve never lived in before.  It was an apartment complex somewhere near Whyte.  I lived on the second floor and was coming in from the back.  I didn’t have any trouble with the stairs.

I met Troy in the hallway.  Can’t remember what we talked about.  When I got to my apartment door I had trouble opening it.  It turned out there were two sleepers partially blocking the door.  One was a friend who was just crashing at my place.  Troy offered to take him home.  The other was Troy’s dog.  Not their current dog, but the one they had when they used to be my room mates.  Bizarrely instead of sending the dog home with Troy, I realized that she needed a walk.

I went into my suite to get the dog’s lead and my suite was a tiny bachelor’s pad – little larger than my dorm room at college.  The dog lead was beside the bed and I found there was someone sleeping in my bed already.  It was Dave and one of his sons.  I knew immediately that the child had a restless night so they came all the way over to my place so the rest of Dave’s family could get a good night’s sleep.

I didn’t wake them and took the dog outside.  I realized that I couldn’t go out the front door because it was a Escher type staircase plus it had no railings.  So we went out the back again.

There was a postage stamp sized backyard behind the apartment.  Despite the fact that it was the middle of the night, the yard was crowded with other apartment dwellers playing fetch with their dogs.  They were using spear throwers to launch footballs and tin cans for the dogs to go get.  I had trouble throwing the football with the spear thrower so I started to just throw the tin can for the dog to get.

My co-residents were multi-cultural and I suddenly realized that I was in the States.  They were all self-congratulatory on how little tension there was in the building despite the racial tensions in the country.  But there was a nasty undercurrent  – you know the kind you hear when someone goes, “I can’t be racist.  My favorite barista is a black/brown/native/other cultural group fellow.”

It made me unconfortable to I took the dog back, but we had to pass through a long shed.  One wall was lined with books and the other with gardening implements.

Then my alarm went off.  I never did get to go to bed in my dream so I woke up feeling cheated of sleep despite having had a good night’s rest.


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