Epic dreams come with snow. Three, and two are connected. First I dreamt of a beautiful Mandarin woman with short dark hair. She sat in a bright room in front of a mirror. She was getting her hair cut even shorter, shaved at the nape of her neck, for her daughter. She was getting angry as there was some discrepancy, and somebody was stealing her hair.
Next, I dreamt that I had to stop by Ron's brother's house for something to do with school. Only, as usual, he was not Ron's brother, and it wasn't his house. I was in the cellar with another girl when David Pribish came in. He wore a Picasso looking raincoat. I wanted to go, then. But, there was some hub-bub with another brother, who looked much like an old student of mine, a musician named Jeremiah. He had to go in the back for some wine. He came back covered in red wine claiming the bottle had broken. Then, he intentionally rubbed the sticky mess all over me by giving me a big sloppy hug. I was furious and went to wash it off.
Finally, and this is the best part of the trip, the part I really like, I was back in Pittsburgh in Mummy's kitchen. I received a colorful yellow Victorian collage postcard from my friend, Amber, inviting me to a tea party. The party was downtown, and I parked my car. The spot was amazing, a very old, sprawling one-story building full of bric-a-brac and dark wood. It had an open floor plan and was wonderfully crammed full of Victoriana of all sorts. The walls were all painted differently with murals of all kinds. Amber worked here. I was sitting down at a round table covered in a pale blue cloth talking to her when she presented me a box with a raised plastic crystalline cameo sort of lid, also, pale blue. Inside were all sorts of little antique goodies: a rusted little angel with a bit of a crack afixed to a paper scrap, little pins, and other things, a personal party favor. I was delighted. I told Amber about having been molested with the wine earlier. The place was full of guests, some in Victorian garb. We moved to the front of the building. There was intricately carved wainscotting of flowering vines in dark wood and a marvelous mural of a palm tree with a gold backdrop. I asked Amber if it had ever been a travel agency, and she assured me, it had. I was wondering what it was before that. A brothel, maybe? Then, I saw my old friend, Rene, only she was different, younger. Also, there was a buff colored shaggy dog that I knew. I explained to Amber that I used to work with Rene, so was real surpised and excited to see her and the dog again. Rene told me the Job Corps had closed, and she and the dog came here. She said she didn't miss the Job Corps because it was a mess. I moved on to a side corridor with a fabulous hedgerow topiary mural. There were white flowers and birds in the hedges with a yellow background. There were two twin beds, and my dear friend, Becky Dowling, was lounging on one with a red and gold brocade spread. She said she lived there. A man was asking if he could buy some pussy, I told him he might get the other half, here, and he laughed. It was now time to grab our favor boxes and go. Amber had already gone. There was a blonde in a blue and white cotton Victorian dress like something you'd wear on a holiday to the beach and a little pillbox hat with a red bow. She carried a big cotton stuffed red and white striped stick with a blue print of a woman's face at the top, sort of like a Gibson Girl. She was ordering everybody out. I went to get my box, but it was different with a round ceramic little painting of a pastoral scene with little people, and the contents were not the same, maybe better; but, I couldn't find my car keys which I had left in my box. I was looking through other boxes of bitty things like little pins, all tempting, but I wanted my keys and noticed a blonde slide my box beneath a coverlet on a sofa. I grabbed it and her arm. She was very upset, and said she had switched our boxes, as she wanted mine. I opened the box: still, no keys. I let her go and take the box with her. I still had the round one. By now the woman with the rag stuffed stick and another were trying to bully me out. I was to the point of tears, screaming about my keys, grabbed her stupid soft stick, and was beating her with it when I forced myself awake.
