Dream: The Flea Market Locks
Dream 20020726, 7 AM:
The Flea Market Locks
I’m at the house. Chris has slept in the other room because he was ticked off about something minor. I wake up, and walk into the living room, and things are missing; after I clear my head a little, I realize that Chris has taken away a lot of his stuff, like he’s moving out. He isn’t here. I go from room to room, being very upset. I go back into the bedroom, but the bed is against the wall like it was in my college dorm room. Taco is having a seizure. I pick him up and hold him, and I’m crying.
Then, Chris and I are out going to a flea market. I don’t remember a transition.
We get out of the car and walk down the row of booths. The booths themselves are walled, and very narrow side to side. I go into one, and see a pottery bowl that I know Chris would love – it looks like it’s made of leaves, but it’s all glazed in perriwinkle and green and blues. I pick it up and hold it to me, thinking he would like it, and I can’t let him walk in here and see it if I’m going to get it for him. There are also a couple of other pieces of ceramic stuff in here, and one has words lettered on it, but I can’t remember what it says. I keep holding on to the bowl, but then I realize I don’t have that much money, and I sadly put it back.
I go into another booth, and then a third. Chris is going from booth to booth as well, but further back; I don’t know why we’re out of synch. In the third booth, there is a glass case with watches and watch parts on it, and I notice some cool little locks hanging from the same case, in a carded tag on a peg. I turn the case around a couple of times, seeing if there is anything else I want. The packet of locks has a mark on it, something that says fifty cents; I ask the man tending the booth how much they are (thinking that was a price from a shop) and he says they’re seventy-five. I start to ask him about the fifty cent part, but then I think that must be the wholesale, and it’s not so much after all. I dig in my pocket, and get a hand full of change. I walk up to the man, and hand him the change, but I spill a bunch of extra coins into his hand; he hands them back to me, and I count out three quarters and give them to him, but somehow get him two quarters and a penny. I tell him I think I got it wrong, and he looks, and gives back the penny and I give him the third quarter, and then I turn to go. I see some bright, rainbow-colored crystals on the cabinet, and I almost forget my packet of locks. He says, “They’ll be in a little bag, hanging from that case…” I laugh at myself for being so ditzy, pick them up, and go out. I am carrying a wooden plate now; I don’t know how I got it, but I’ve got it in both hands, and it’s got change on it, and I put the locks on it. I meet up with Chris outside the booth.
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