more [overflowing] baggage

I had a long, detailed, and unsettling dream this morning. I was on a group trip (sigh) with a lot of college-age kids (I was also that age), including some random former classmates from elementary school through college.

The trip was to India, and we were staying at a large, run-down resort. The hotel was very old, and pieced-together in the way of old buildings that have been added on to over and over. It was a weird mixture of good old (antiques), just run-down old, and new. There were a couple of pools outside that were especially impressive: a freshwater infinity pool and, just beside it overlooking the actual ocean, a rocky saltwater pool. The rocks were set up so that the seawater sloshed in and out over them, but swimmers wouldn't be washed out to sea. It was a really nice setup, so nice that the temptation to swim there overcame my desire to not expose my flabby belly.

There was some random exploration of the hotel, and a lot of time spent on my part preparing to swim. This involved showering, picking out the most flattering combination of a variety of unmatching two-pieces, and putting on various lotions and makeup. I was very stuck on the idea that I needed to look as good as possible for the swimming, but I also recognized that I was being obsessive, and I was frustrated that supper time was approaching and it was going to be too late to swim for more than a few minutes.

Other hotel curiosities were the stairways and elevators. The stairways were very narrow and low-ceilinged, so low-ceilinged that I was hesitant to try them. The hotel contained a lot of stories, though, so I decided to try the elevator. It seemed normal when I stepped in with another person, but morphed into a sort of minivan when we got down to ground level. She took charge and drove it, rather crazily, to another building on the resort grounds. I decided not to take the elevator again.

The whole atmosphere became a little oppressive once I started paying attention. The workers at the resort, if not openly hostile, obviously hated us all and hated the fact that we were there. Most of them were quiet about it, but not all. On an exploratory trip with some other people on a remote upstairs wing of the building, we came to a large open room decorated with lots of Indian things--rugs, hanging lamps, etc. We were interested because it seemed like The Real Thing and not something for tourist consumption, but when the man inside it saw us he got up from his folding chair and started yelling and gesticulating wildly at us to leave. A couple of younger men who could have been his sons arrived and went inside the room to start some kind of ecstatic religious dance, while the man kept on yelling at us.

After that, I think there was another mini-episode in which I was trying to sort through overflowing baggage to get ready to swim (I never did get to swim in the whole dream).

Then things switched to another story line. I was still at the resort, but it was night and the group had been given free time. I was in an upper story, very reminiscent of an airport, with little bars one after the other, not separated by walls. I was following around an older guy who was a mixture of several former professors and bosses, with a dash of David Carradine thrown in. I wasn't sure why I was following him, but I knew I was supposed to stick with him even though he wasn't interacting much with me. His demeanor was sort of your average Troubled Antihero, silent, brooding, with his mind obviously on something. He would stop at one of the bars and order two drinks (once it was a "lemon fizz" and a gin and tonic, I can't remember the others), one of which was obviously supposed to be for me. Since I was following him somewhat at a distance, though, I wasn't quite sure what to do. He never really gestured for me to come over, but his two-drink order made it clear that I was supposed to be with him. Each time, he would get the two drinks, look at them distractedly, brood for a while, push them back toward the bartender, and leave for the next bar without actually consuming anything. I got the impression that all this was leading up to some kind of action of vengeance on his part, although toward whom I wasn't sure.

This puzzling action went on for a while, and he eventually morphed into my husband. I don't remember what happened then, except that I was relieved to be back on more familiar ground.

Chocolate

I was in a cafe somewhere in the gray Northwest, near the Sound. I had been sitting at the bar, with my book, and had gone to an automated kiosk to buy a ferry ticket. I suddenly realized I didn't have my wallet, although I'm not sure in retrospect how I was able to buy the ticket without it. I rushed back to the cafe, and my wallet was sitting right there on the bar, open, but not missing anything. There was a fragment of mirror there, and I realized that the mirror in my wallet had broken (although in real life, it doesn't have a mirror).

I don't remember if my dad came in after I had arrived, or whether he'd appeared while I had been gone. In any case, it was unmistakably my dad, but he looked extremely young, with unlined skin, a halo of wavy light brown hair, and huge eyes with dark eyelashes. He looked sort of like he did in the pictures I'd been looking at in my grandma's photo albums, and also kind of like my brother.

He talked to me animatedly and enthusiastically, as though he was really trying hard to communicate some point, but I couldn't understand what he was telling me. I do remember him saying that he had accidentally eaten "about six hundred dollars' worth" of chocolate; apparently the tiny candy covered gourmet chocolates were $20 (or was it $2?) per ounce. He showed me a few in a little box, but they had somehow been priced in bulk instead of by the box.

He thought this was kind of funny. Eating that much chocolate is totally something my dad would do; paying that much for it is not.

Reunion

(Wow, this got long! It was the first even vaguely coherently narrative dream I'd had in a long time, probably because I accidentally slept for about 11 hours last night.)

I was back at my high school reunion, but in the dream we seemed to alternate between being teenagers and our current ages. At one point, we were on a bus, and our class sponsor (the physics teacher) was explaining to us something about being able to ride back on the bus, or to take our own transportation and go out. He seemed to be strongly encouraging a drink called "Burma," because it would fit nicely into the theme of what we'd been studying. I did some research, and found a book with really cool old labels from various brands of Burma, and recipes for exotic snacks that made nice accompaniments to it. I never got to taste Burma, although we did go out later; all I remember is that the waitress brought me what was supposed to be a beer, but there were only about two inches in the tall glass, and it tasted like apple juice.

The next day(?) there was some sort of vespers-thing, of which I don't remember much, except that the girls and boys were separated and that at the end, the RAs were the first out. These included people I'd seen at the reunion, in their current state, and at least one who wasn't an RA in school.

From there, we headed to the cafeteria. It was raining, and I was walking by myself. As I turned a corner, I saw a boy from high school, who had liked me a lot then and whom I'm afraid I didn't treat as well as I should have. He hadn't been at our actual reunion. I started crying when I saw him, and we walked toward each other as though everything was going to be okay (I've had the everything-is-going-to-be-okay dream about him before, actually). But then he turned into another (girl) friend from high school, who had been at the reunion, and who was also crying. I was disappointed, but we hugged and went inside the cafeteria together.

My mom still worked there, as did the rest of the foodservice staff from my senior year. I said hi to them in the kitchen, and then we went to find tables in the dining room, which had been set up for some sort of banquet.

The next day was graduation, and it was sunny. A friend and I were walking to the gym for the ceremony, and realizing that I was dressed quite conservatively. I was even wearing nylons, with a dress I recognized as one I'd purchased 10 years ago. I got out my phone to make a call, and when I opened it, my uncle was on the line--he had been trying to call me just as I was trying to call (him?). He was trying to tell me where I should meet him in the gym ("Adam Tennessee"?). I was really excited to see him, but something seemed vaguely wrong and/or sad at the same time that it seemed completely natural. I think I knew there was some reason I hadn't been able to, and wouldn't be able to see him, although I'm not sure I realized in the dream that it was because he was killed almost four years ago.

We got to the gym and were looking for him and my dad, who had also called, but couldn't find them. At some point, one of the security/organization people was walking by with a walkie-talkie, and I could hear my uncle on the other end, trying to either explain or figure out this AdamTenessee business. I tried to make another call with my phone, but realized that it had somehow been smashed and misshapen, although the new shape did end up being rather rounded and ergonomic. I was mostly disappointed that it wasn't all little and compact and as easy to slip into a back pocket as it had been. I never got to see my dad, or my uncle.