Saturday, January 3, 2009

Dreams about lions and races and games

I'm in a tall building. There is some sort of event going on for children in particular, but adults are welcome. We are supposed to go to the sixth floor. A lot of people are taking the elevator...So we decide to take the stairs. This was mostly my decision. I say "we," but I don't know who was with me. We get up to about floor 4, and the stairwell seems cramped...the space between floors is shorter, I have to crawl up the stairs. The friend I am with, whoever that is, starts climbing up a rope that's hanging from the next floor. Everything is painted black, and the outlines are painted in some neon color that glows. The corners, the outines....

We get up to the sixth floor, and there are a lot of people all around. A lot of young people. I climb over a little hill in the dark, and suddenly, I was sitting at the dam at my grandparents--we have a small creek that we dam up every year, and below the little dam, there is a "beach" of small rocks. I was sitting here, and I was drawing. When I draw, I tend to start with the eye. Maybe that's because of art lessons in school when I was little. I think I had a few teachers tell us to always start with the eyes. I was drawing a tiger, or trying to. Except then the drawing started to turn into the real thing before me as I drew. But the coloring wasn't right, and then he and I decided he was a Lion instead. I finished one eye, one half of his face, and then part of a mane....and then he got up and started walking around, scaring the other people in the room...because somehow the dam was in the room.

Then I got up to follow him and see what he was doing.

Next I remember, I was running a race. I hate running. I've covered that in this blog, but I'll say it again. I hate running. I was running this race. It was me and a big fat guy against a family of Hispanics. He was counting on me to win, because he was far behind the rest of us. I was near the front, most of the race was between me and their oldest son, who couldn't have been as old as I even. We would catch up to one another, grab onto the other persons arm and hold on for dear life to keep up...and when one person would tire out, the other would do the same....

Eventually their son got stuck somewhere. I don't remember where. We were running through all sorts of terrain as well as houses and stores. I ended up near the end racing with the wife. I got the feeling we were close in age...we got along really well, spoke for the last portion of the race, her beautiful spanish accent grabbing my attention. We were running past a lot of luxurious shops with cashmere sweaters and scarves, storefronts with leather gloves and diamond earrings and pretty paintings. There also were a few cliffs we ran right next to...there was jewelry laid out on the edge, and we were trying to not step on the pretty jewelry, not slip into the sea.....

We got down to the point where we had only to go past her husbands office and then we would be at the end of the race, so we stopped talking and put effort into running again. She ran around the building, but I was already inside, and I realized that maybe they had locked the door on the inside so I wouldn't be able to run out the backdoor to the finishline. I had the thought, but then I got to the door, and it opened, and I ran out the back, onto the sand, and hopped up on the rock where we were supposed to finish. There were six men in diving suits standing with their arms in the air, fingers interlaced, forming a bridge.

They all yelled and hollered for the victory....

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