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I had a very detailed and vivid dream recently. I dreamed I got up for a pee and discovered some sort of oily brown goopy stuff flowing along our hallway. My partner said it was Volatile Organic Compounds (VOCs) and we needed to get out fast. We both went outside while I racked my brain trying to remember what you were supposed to do in such a situation.
Once outside, I realized that we were living in some sort of a townhouse complex. It turned out one of our neighbours must have already called for help, because the person in charge of addressing the situation was herding a group of people about and barking instructions. He sure didn't look like a workman, though - he was all dressed up in a spiffy suit and talking like an old-time preacher. He led us to a central gathering point which happened to be right near the edge of an asphalt precipice (more like a vertical drop really, and no fence around it). I hung back and when I could get a word in edgewise, I mentioned that we still had a cat in our unit that we'd like to get out of there. He actually paused and sort of tilted his head, seeming to treat it as nothing more than an interesting hypothetical puzzle - hmm, she's got a kitty in there, wonder what we should do?
Since he wasn't really treating me seriously, I formulated a plan. I would sneak back into our unit, put the cat in her carrier and bring her out. Only problem was... I was lost in the maze of pathways and parking lots that make up a townhouse development. I finally found a door I thought might be the right one and went inside. I found myself in some sort of upscale baby-supplies department store full of cribs, carseats, mobiles and super-educational toys custom-designed to get your kid into Oxbridge or Harvard by the time she's out of training pants. That was another maze in itself (sort of like IKEA) and once I wended my way through that, I realized I was in a very big shopping centre (sort of like the West Edmonton Mall). And there was no one around I could ask for directions!
I finally found a small door (probably a fire door or an employees' entrance) to the outside world and I was back in the maze of pathways of my (or at least somebody's) townhouse complex. As I was walking across a parking lot towards what I hoped was my townhouse, a more rational part of my subconscious kicked in, telling me "Wait a minute - this really doesn't make sense." I woke up.
One part of it did make sense, though - I still needed to pee.
For the foreseeable future, we won't be going to any charming brunch restaurants in Chelsea, Hull or Wakefield, so there'll be no Chelsea mornings for us. But hey - at least we still have milk and bread and coffee - and a jug of orange juice too!
Once outside, I realized that we were living in some sort of a townhouse complex. It turned out one of our neighbours must have already called for help, because the person in charge of addressing the situation was herding a group of people about and barking instructions. He sure didn't look like a workman, though - he was all dressed up in a spiffy suit and talking like an old-time preacher. He led us to a central gathering point which happened to be right near the edge of an asphalt precipice (more like a vertical drop really, and no fence around it). I hung back and when I could get a word in edgewise, I mentioned that we still had a cat in our unit that we'd like to get out of there. He actually paused and sort of tilted his head, seeming to treat it as nothing more than an interesting hypothetical puzzle - hmm, she's got a kitty in there, wonder what we should do?
Since he wasn't really treating me seriously, I formulated a plan. I would sneak back into our unit, put the cat in her carrier and bring her out. Only problem was... I was lost in the maze of pathways and parking lots that make up a townhouse development. I finally found a door I thought might be the right one and went inside. I found myself in some sort of upscale baby-supplies department store full of cribs, carseats, mobiles and super-educational toys custom-designed to get your kid into Oxbridge or Harvard by the time she's out of training pants. That was another maze in itself (sort of like IKEA) and once I wended my way through that, I realized I was in a very big shopping centre (sort of like the West Edmonton Mall). And there was no one around I could ask for directions!
I finally found a small door (probably a fire door or an employees' entrance) to the outside world and I was back in the maze of pathways of my (or at least somebody's) townhouse complex. As I was walking across a parking lot towards what I hoped was my townhouse, a more rational part of my subconscious kicked in, telling me "Wait a minute - this really doesn't make sense." I woke up.
One part of it did make sense, though - I still needed to pee.
For the foreseeable future, we won't be going to any charming brunch restaurants in Chelsea, Hull or Wakefield, so there'll be no Chelsea mornings for us. But hey - at least we still have milk and bread and coffee - and a jug of orange juice too!
