Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Another dream sequence

Over this past weekend, I had another dream in a mall.

But this was a regular mall, not a weird surreal Mall of Madness.

It went down like this.

Lynda, Hannah, and I were in the men's clothing section of a generic anchor store in your typical generic mall. It was probably either J.C. Penneys or Sears or maybe Belks. But I was in the market for a track suit. (Perhaps I was getting ready to go back in time and reinvent myself as a 80s style rapper?)

I had my eye on a nice red number that one of the mannequins was sporting--bright red (to get the ladies attention?) two piece ensemble with a zip-up jacket/hoodie and straight-legged pants (no elastic at the cuffs, yo!). But what really set it all off was the addidas-style white stripes (think Fat Boys, not White Stripes) running down both pant legs.

So, I knew what I wanted. I just had to get the right size. I got the proper jacket, but for some reason I couldn't locate a corresponding pair of the red pants. I waited around for a bit, hoping to get some sales clerk assistance, but even in a dream sequence, no help was to be found.

I eventually cornered a store manager and he told me that they were completely out of the pants, but he directed me to one of the sales clerks. Lynda and I (and I was holding Hannah) discussed our problem with the clerk (who, for whatever reason I can't begin to explain was of Arab descent). He led the three of us through the men's department and out of the store into the mall corridors.

At this point I thought he was going to lead us to some separate storage or merchandise staging area where the appropriate pants were available. But we just kept walking past store entrances and through the wide mall expanses.

Suddenly, I found that part of the mall floor was moving. (You know how in airport walkways part of the floor is a motorized belt that speeds you along faster than regular walking?) Well, I and Hannah were on this moving part--which wasn't a rubberized mat but was made of the same tile as the stationary mall floor that Lynda and the store clerk were on.

As I realized that I was on this moving floor, I lost my balance and fell backwards. I landed safely--kind of like if I was sliding down a waterslide, not flat on my back but semi-upright--and kept Hannah from harm. But I felt the floor's pace quicken and I could see that it was propelling me toward a wall that jutted outward from a Chik-fil-A entrance. (The floor just kept moving underneath the bottom of the wall protuberance.) As I slid non-stop to this barrier (which was also . . . oddly . . . guarded by a regular sidewalk bench that was supporting a couple sitting in front of the Chik-fil-A; again, the moving floor just slid right beneath their feet), I leaned over and sort of handed off/tossed Hannah to Lynda, who was on safe, predictable solid "ground."

With the baby safe, I just sort of curled up and let myself get slammed into the bench/barrier at the feet of the sitting couple. It turns out--though I couldn't have told you who they were in the dream--Lynda and I knew them from church. So, I got up, got off of the moving floor, and we chatted for a few minutes.

But then we went on our way, again following the sales clerk who was now leading us out of the mall itself and suddenly we were walking with him through a moderately forested area (tall, Georgia pines) that cast a shady area on a courtyard of an apartment complex. On either side of the little artificial glen screen doors indicated the entrances to apartments. There were little squares of concrete that was each entrances stoop and I sat down on one of these in the piney shade to see what was going to happen next.

At this point, I was now rationalizing that the sales clerk we had been following was going to offer me a pair of red (and white striped) track suit pants that he owned, even though he was at least six inches taller than me and probably 50 pounds more muscular. (He was wearing a generic sales outfit of black pants, white shirt, and black suit vest. He was very handsome in a non-me sort of way.)

So, I'm sitting, Lynda is standing to the side holding Hannah just waiting and staring at the apartment screen door that the clerk is opening. Upon opening, he is greeted by an older man that is clearly his grandfather. I don't remember that the two exchange any words but the clerk who has led us all this way without so much as speaking to us now turns to Lynda (ignoring my presence COMPLETELY) and asks her to marry him.

. . .


To her credit, Lynda immediately slumps a bit in disappointment, turns to look me in the eyes and gives a full-bodied, very weary sort of sigh.

And then the dream ends.

1 comment:

Sven Golly said...

Just had a quick conference call with Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung (don't ask, I have my ways), who send their best, by the way. They love the dream and all its archetypal, cross-cultural, generational, heroic richness. I just like your fashion sense.