reoccurrence

i dreamed this morning that i was walking against the wind. it was really hard to get anywhere. i held on lightly to bumps in the windows and walls. a couple of times i lost a lot of ground because i was blown backwards, floating slowly and gently back for several feet. i was more fascinated than frustrated.

that reference seems obvious. that one is easier to talk about than the other one from this morning, where i was looking for two of my pairs of shoes. whenever i found one pair, i had to change shoes and leave the other pair behind for a while, knowing i'd have to come back to get them later. black patent kate spade slingbacks vs. punk diesel poser track shoes. i had to go all over this artists' area of town, in and out of playhouses, teahouses, hotels, the front seat of a brown el camino. i saw people from every sphere of my life, including my ex, who hasn't made a dream appearance in many months, and complete strangers. i got busted by cops who were telling me it was safe to come out and they opened my car door to find me holding the little boy undershirt that i was trying put onto my own shirtless little boy torso. i screamed and nobody understood why. i calmly snuck around alone while something in or near the theatre burned, creating a bizarre haze inside and outside, making the players wave towels around in the air, or just their arms. they let me in on their secret but wanted me to keep it quiet. i attended a bizarre old-fashioned full-coverage granny-nightgown belly dance wherein i guided a tiny little yellow-nightgowned person with a yellow nightcap pulled over her eyes in a wheeled walker ceremoniously and toruturously slowly around the room in a circle. i watched as a random girl who was my friend found something she'd dropped on the sidewalk the night before, her red spangly purse-bag that somehow matched tonight's outfit. i saw my friend d-win with pins in his bloody broken left arm, laughing and crying very loudly at the play he was watching. i searched for my pastor at a hotel where the political convention seemed to impress my accompanying stranger-friends in their cardigan sweater set, skirt/pearls, and suit. there's a lot more i can't recall. all the while i was looking for my shoes, neither frustrated nor tired, just slightly impatient and in wonder at it all. suddenly i realized my slingbacks were in my hand and my diesels on my feet, and i felt perplexed. at least i had friends with me helping me search there at the end. no, more like witnesses.

then, i couldn't find my car.