Dream 20040301, 6:45 AM:
Chris and I are in a foreign city. There is a huge storm looming on the horizon, and everyone is running. We realize that there’s a tidal wave on its way, and we have to get into one of the secured basements. Everyone is streaming into huge buildings; the big hotels apparently have to accommodate these large secured areas beneath. We run into one, and down a series of ramps. There are fewer people as we go downward – it seems as if people are getting turned into different ramps, so that they will split into various safe spots.
We get into a medium-sized room, and there are probably a dozen other people in here. A black woman is standing by the door in a uniform, and she shuts the door; it has a ring in the center, like the doors in submarines. People are frantically pressing against the door, trying to squeeze in, but she shuts it. There are windows on the side where we are, and we can see the storm coming toward us; someone points out the heavy glass windows that are designed to withstand the onslaught of the water. We sit down in chairs that ring the room.
Then, the entire room begins to move and shift, and I realize that it’s moving, like a car in a thrill ride. It shifts sideways, and then suddenly drops downward in a spiral, then begins to shoot sideways at speed. It goes down at a slant for a long time, then begins to slope upward. I realize that they’ve put people in these pods to evacuate them from the seaside. The ride is very exciting but doesn’t feel dangerous; I remark to Chris that it’s a neat bonus to the whole trip, getting to go on this thrill ride.
The pod comes to a stop, and we are outside in a beautiful mountainous area. There is a city of old buildings further up the mountain from where we are; it seems like an odd blend of Tibetan, European, and South American. The buildings are very pointed and upright; several of them have spires or small spiky towers. Our little group of people is walking around, looking at the scenery. I point out the snow on the mountains higher up. We walk along, and can see some of the snow nearer to where we are; a little child is playing in it, and I realize that it can’t be cold because of how the child is dressed. I reach out and touch it, and it is soft and not at all cold; it is very soft, like combed silk fiber. It’s some sort of fibrous gypsum. I point it out to the others in the group. The child holds up a little clump of it, and I can see where it grows out of the base rock like a moss, and some of it is in crystals instead of the tiny fibers. We walk along a high wall; someone in the group explains that we’re in a different country from where we had been with the tidal wave, and that we’re higher up and behind the coastal mountain range, so that we’re safe. The wall apparently marks a boundary between two countries. It’s smooth and built of stone.
Then, the threat of the tidal wave is over, and it’s time to go back. We enjoy the wild ride again, and end up in a terminal that reminds me somewhat of an airport, somewhat of a back-end package handling operation like UPS. The chutes that we walk down are very industrial looking, painted metal wire grid but it looks like something that belongs in a warehouse. We are walking down a ramp, and I get separated from Chris; we have to go through something like a baggage pickup, and I can’t find him. We are at level six or seven; I run up one and down one, thinking that he would be nearby, but still can’t locate him. I find someone in a small store room to ask for directions, and she asks what we saw on our escape journey; I tell her that we were in the mountains, and she says that we were in Guatemala, and that the content for each of the levels is different – we were at level 13. So I run to that one, and find Chris there.
We get our bags and depart.
There is some more dream material that I can’t remember. The next scene that I recall, I am sitting and polishing a pair of dress shoes. The shoes are a light, sort of tan or putty color, and I am polishing them with a polish that is more red than they are; it is changing their color a little. Chris is telling me that he’s going to go out and find some guy to hook up with. I remark that maybe I should be doing the same thing; he tells me that I’ve had lots of chances, but I explain that despite all those chances, I have been faithful to him. I feel angry and hurt.