Dream 20020725, 7:00 AM:
Scooby Dooby Doobie Doo
I’m going with Chris to a meeting with Theresa Bell. I remember meeting her, and she told me that her office was in a neat old house. I had been to this dream workshop in a big fabulous home the day before – it reminded me of the Sullivan House, but had big wooden arched areas in the front entry. I had found an article from a newspaper about it, it was called something like the “Wall Mansion” – the article showed some of the rooms, and I pointed them out to Chris.
We are driving through an area that reminds me of a cross between Swiss Avenue and the Wilson Block. Big, old houses, mostly restored to historical style, line the street. I think that we’re in Austin, though, not Dallas. I see the house where we had the workshop, and I point it out to Chris – I say, “There… that’s where I was, the red one.” The front of the house is painted a rich, vibrant russet red. He says something about how he told me it was in this same neighborhood.
We get to the address we’re looking for, just a few houses away. I don’t see any sort of sign above the doorway, and I back up and look at the front of the house for a sign; I finally see one, but it’s not for Theresa. We go up anyway and knock. A petite woman answers the door, grayish hair, cut short – she has a strong accent, I think it’s Russian. She invites us in, and tells us that Theresa is not yet here, she had to go get refreshments for the party. She says that she would have gotten a package of cookies and it would be good, but Theresa is French, and has to get them from some particular place. She makes a face, and says, “The Russians, we don’t do it that way.”
Chris and I have arrived in some sort of motorcycle with a little trailer. The trailer has an entire silver service on it; we leave it on the porch. For some reason, I think we have brought it for the party. We go inside, and there are all kinds of art supplies, mostly centered around a big glass-fronted cabinet. It looks like something originally designed to merchandise things, but has been adapted as a work bench.
We look around a little, and the house is beautiful, but only some of the rooms are refinished. I look into one room, and it is full of leaves and old, unrestored furniture. I remember Theresa saying something about how the house wasn’t all done. It’s neat to look at anyway. The unrestored room I’m looking into seems dark, or at least dimly lit.
More people arrive for this meeting. Theresa still isn’t here. We are all sort of congregating around a big table like a dining table; we start to talk and introduce ourselves. I see one girl that I recognize, and I look at her and say something about “Scooby Dooby Doobie Doo!” She reminds me of Velma from Scooby Doo. She laughs, and says something back to me. I say it again, with an accent on the “Doobie”… she looks at me quizzically, and I tell her, “You know, like the one you left in my bathroom?” She explodes in laughter, and I start telling everyone about how I was in the bathroom, and she had left clothes piled everywhere, and I started to pick them up and fold them, and found a half-smoked joint among them. I put the stack of folded clothes on the folded-down seat of the toilet, and I slipped the joint into the stack where (looking pointedly at the girl) someone would have found it if she’d picked up her clothes and unfolded them…
Then she laughs again, and says that her Dad ended up with it – somehow she just took the folded clothes to his house, and he found it later on. We all laugh again.