Museum Fun and a Stage Tear Down

Dreams 06.28.13
I was at home, in the house I grew up in but as an adult. My mother had a party happening downstairs and I didn’t want to join just yet. My room seemed to be much bigger than it was. There was tons of space in between the furniture. I looked around and decided I should rearrange things but some items looked very heavy. I wondered if I should get help but decided against it. I could just drag it, probably.

Then I went downstairs to join the party. I sat down at a counter height table in the kitchen to join a couple of aunties having a drink. We made smalltalk and exchanged niceties. One of the older gentlemen who I’ve known as my mother’s friend for a long time came up to join us. I don’t remember who any of these people are now in my waking state or if they were real friends of my mom’s. They were just their “roles”.

Anyway, this man and I really hit it off. Before I realized, everyone else hanging out in the kitchen had gone out to the garden and we were alone chatting. We slipped out of the party and was instantly transported to a museum.

We were walking out of a fake cave tunnel. There was a security guard who looked like Alan Thicke sitting, guarding a black door against a black wall opposite the tunnel exit. No one would’ve recognized there was a door there so I wondered why it was guarded. The museum obviously wanted people not to go in there. I wanted to get a bit closer to have a look so I was about to loop my arm around the older gentlemen’s. He turned away to pick something up and I missed his arm. For a split second I thought, what am I doing? I am getting too comfortable with this man. Anyway, I gripped his jacket and pulled him along to go closer to the security guard.

I asked a stupid question like where was the washroom. The guard answered and also directed us to the store. I realized then that I didn’t need to try to get closer to the door. It didn’t seem like there was anything special about it. Just a hidden black door against a black painted brick wall.

When the guard mentioned the store, the gentleman and I looked over and saw it. It looked inviting but I didn’t feel a need to go in. However the gentleman grabbed my hand, put it on his arm then said, “Well we’re already here. Let’s see what the store has to differ!” His enthusiasm made me smile and i also became enthused. I smiled at him. Arm in arm we strolled into the store.

The store had a lot of museum branded clothing and exhibition themed knick knacks, all great, even luxury items. I noticed a white rabbit fur shawl on a rack and I wondered briefly how many rabbits it took to make it.

Dreams 06.27.13
I was walking through a large hall and staging area. It was buzzing with people. It felt like I was at the backstage area of a concert venue with super high ceilings. Beyond the large sliding doors was a big dark space. All the workers were going through the doors carrying rigging in and out. I wandered into the dark room and into the darkness.

As I roamed through the darkened space and I saw there were areas with very low light, work lights setup for the workers A shadow of a worker dropped something. I picked it up about to return it but it started to glow pink, from a point then the glowing point got bigger. I tilted it and the glowing star inside this ordinarily shaped glow stick floated and moved in the liquid inside. The effect was hypnotic.

I remember seeing a lot of strong women whom I’ve briefly known in my life, taking down the stage rig and rebuilding it bit by bit. Then my edm party friend came up to apologize for “not taking the initiative”. I don’t even know what that meant but I thought he didn’t need to apologize.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s