Dream 20030129, 7:30 AM:
I am with Chris, we are walking along a riverbank. There is a long wooden foot bridge crossing the river, more like a very extended boardwalk. There are lots of people crossing it, a steady stream of bobbing heads. We have Corning ware glass bowls with us, and we decide that rather than walk across the bridge like everyone else, we’re going to get in our bowls and fly over the water. We do so, sitting each in our own bowl like some sort of Betty Crocker Baba Yaga. I remember holding on to the edge of the bowl, a blue one with the pouring lip, and skipping like a high-energy rock across the river.
About 3/4 of the way across, Chris slips sideways a little, and strikes the bridge. He somehow doesn’t fall into the water, but ends up on the far bank – but his bowl is nowhere to be seen. I walk out on the top of the causeway, which now seems to have two layers, the underneath one with people walking on it, and the upper one which is like a roof, which is where I’m walking. I go out over the water, and I’m holding out my hands like I’m dowsing, trying to find the lost bowl. I see some whitish shapes under the water, and I haul up a couple of things, but they are not the one bowl that I’m looking for. One is a matching casserole dish, and another is a different size of bowl than the one Chris lost. I mention something about how it’ll be nice to have the whole set. Then, I see Chris’s bowl, which has somehow gotten lodged on the underpinnings of the bridge itself, which explains why we couldn’t find it in the water. I reach down and get it, and it has something like blackberry juice on the inside, just a little. It’s not broken or anything.
Then, we go on to a woman’s house where we are staying. There were several things that happened here, but all that I remember is coming into the house to find all the house guests cleaning and mopping the floors. After I see two or three poeple doing this, I realize that I ought to be helping. I find some handprints on the yellow shag carpet, made from what appears to be chili – I ask Mrs. S., who is apparently the owner of the house (not anyone I know, though) what to get it up with, and she tells me it needs Dr. Pepper. There isn’t any in the house, and I take off to go to the store and get some. I ask if we need anything else, and she mentions a couple of things, but I don’t remember what they are. I walk out toward the store; I decided to walk because it isn’t far and we didn’t need anything heavy. I walk along for a while amongst rows of houses, then I start to see some businesses, and I know I’m getting to the right area. *end*