Dream 20040928, 4:40 AM: The Scrabble Oracle

This dream is complicated – seems like two one after another, but I don’t remember waking.
Dream 20040928, 4:40 AM:

First dream – I’m seeing a woman, she runs a restaurant? and her brother is talking to me. She accuses me of something – rape? and I’m freaking out. He starts talking to me very aggressively, and accusing me of misleading her or mistreating her; I explain that she is not telling the whole truth. It sounds from her version like I took advantage of her once – I explain to him that I’ve been seeing her for five weeks, she slept over at my place three times… he starts to realize that she’s playing us both, gets mad at her. I have to leave, though – running from the law?

Then – talking to a different young woman – something about art supplies. Her brother is packing up printing stuff and presses – I remember that he has type loaded into an odd sort of case that looks portable. He is cleaning the presses with something like type wash. I tell her that I have three sets of alphabet at home, but haven’t really learned to use it; I have a small press too. She laughs; I explain that I have all kinds of art stuff but it’s mostly in storage – I start talking about having worked for Diamond, and how I was able to get all kinds of things free or on discount if they came in damaged.

Their place is something like a trailer house, but crammed with cool storage spaces – like inside the walls and ceiling. All the spaces are full of art supplies. We are packing it up, as if getting ready to move. At one point, I remember finding myself outside naked; I feel totally comfortable, but realize that it might freak out the neighbors, so I put on a pair of the brother’s shorts that are lying on the ground.

Then, later, after more plot that I can’t remember, I’m traveling with two or three people – it seems like we’re lovers, and we’re going somewhere all together. I remember sitting in a small dining room, at a table – I ask if they have any kind of oracular device, I need to do a reading – anything will do. Even scrabble letters. They pull out a bag of scrabble letters, and I ask for someone to write them down as I pull them. I have a sure and certain feeling that this won’t be vague, or likely even mis-spelled; the sense that I’m going to get a strong message is overwhelming. I pull several letters out of the bag, and there’s an S that keeps seeming like I need to grab it, but I keep not getting it. Finally, I look at the S, and say to it out loud that it needs to just jump on up – it spins round and round, and a different letter S jumps onto the board where I’ve stacked the other letters.

There are a bunch of people here who are trying to be helpful – they’ve set up an “advice table,” which is a folding card table covered with all kinds of greeting-card-sized notecards – each person is going to write in what they’d do, on the cards. Several of the cards are pre-printed with helpful starts, like “I would do…” or “What would Jesus do?” I chuckle – the sentiment is sweet, but I don’t anticipate a real solution from the suggestions. There are a lot of people in the other room, but the ones that are really involved, my partners and me and a few close friends, are sitting together in the dining room, gathered around the table. I look over at the sliding door between, and I reach out with my mind-powers and tug it closed. I remark aloud that “I can do that sometimes – special dream powers – and oh, I’m dreaming.” It seems like an afterthought, and I don’t interrupt the flow of the dream.

I turn back to my diviniation, except now it’s not Scrabble letters any more – there are objects laid out in front of me, several of them are like little scenes caught inside a piece of clear resin. Some of them are different colors, but each one is a solid shade inside – the first one I look at is purple, with a layer of fluid around the figures, almost like a rough-cut snowglobe. I start reading them; I remember that the first one is something like The Horse Rider – which makes sense because we are traveling. I look at each in turn, although I don’t remember them fully now after waking. I remember picking up a section of tubing with a mouthpiece at one end; I call it a hookah hose, but one of the other guys says it’s something else to do with hashish, like it stands on its own without the remainder of a pipe; I tell him it sure looks like a hookah pipe hose to me, but he is insistent.

Then, it seems like we’re traveling on a train. There is a strong sense that we’re imprisoned – although it doesn’t seem like we’re under any duress, just not able to choose to leave the train. I remember someone talking, and saying that you pick a partner for protection and companionship, you have to… I look at the man that I was hoping would be my partner, and he’s somehow tucked himself between the layers of a window (it’s more like a small compartment, behind a curtain), and he’s with someone else. As I’m talking, one woman is talking about another woman – they’re lovers, remind me of the Lesbian couple in Queer as Folk. It seems that they’re both very sophisticated androids, and the one woman has been programmed to only have orgasms with men – the other wishes that she could do that for her lover. She says something about it only works with men, because she has compatible teeth. I remember passionately kissing the dark-haired woman. I’m sad because I am feeling kind of disconnected and left out, but as I’m telling this to one of the guys, a cute small Hispanic man, he is curled up back-to-back with another guy, and he’s curled up tightly, so that I can see his asshole – he kind of wriggles his ass a little, and I reach up and touch it, and he says, “Well, finally!” and crawls down and starts to make out with me.

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