Dream Journal #4

Notes on this one were just as sparse as the last one.

14 Mar—15 Mar

I was looking through a museum with a lot of girls I knew—no one specific, although I did know they were from Honors or the Asian Studies program—and enjoying it. Everything had sort of a golden colour scheme, with various spotlight-type lights enabling us to see the paintings. One was in a golden frame, featuring a normal-looking tree among a field of fall colours. Somewhere else in the museum, on the first floor, was an ongoing blood drive.

At some point, I took the elevator to the fifth floor, for an interview. Some others were sitting in chairs in the front waiting room, but behind the counter was Mrs. Spencer*, so I chatted with her. She informed me that the family dog had died, but she kept a smile on her face and motioned to a stack of standard yellow sticky notes. On the top note, she had written some note on how at least now "he" (the dog) could see his "bone father."

I eventually went in to have my interview and then proceeded to seed the fifth floor with bombs. I fled the area as the storey blew up. I think I was watching the fiery explosion from outside a cafe across the street. No one fled the building or anything, it was just a nice flaming boom. A bit later, I realised my friends were still inside the museum. Worried, I hurried back into the museum, where everything was still orderly.

After some searching, I came upon them. A few were standing outside an elevator, while a larger group had just stepped inside. A few of them acknowledged my presence. Although I never entered the elevator, I noted that the buttons now only covered floors one through four. One of the girls inside the elevator was trying fervently to guess the name of one of the girls outside, next to me. The girl outside was grinning, just barely dropping hints, when the inner elevator doors started to close. Freaking out a bit but not trying to stop the door from closing, the inside girl kept trying to guess until the black doors closed in front of her.

* Lady who goes to my church. We don't talk much, but she's the mother of one of my friends.