I received another visitation from Dania. This time, she had agreed to help me write a children’s book called The Youngest Hippopotamus, and she had met me on the front porch at my house to discuss it (for some ungodly reason). When she asked me what the book was about, I told her it was about a superhero who fights two Green Goblin-type villains (Yeah, the title had absolutely nothing to do with the actual story of the book.). When she essentially asked me if I’d pulled that plot out of my ass, I admitted that that was the case, and we both had a chuckle over it. Growing serious, she then made it clear in no uncertain terms that this collaboration between we two was strictly platonic, that nothing romantic was going to come out of this. I told her that I understood this, that I was content having her in my life as a friend.
While this was going on, my sister was watching us through a window, making stupid kissy faces and such. She then came out of the house and began skulking about, disturbing us. I told Dania that she always pulls this kind of bullshit, that I can never relax when she’s around. This turn of events upset Dania, and the camaraderie we had been enjoying was broken.
Before the dream could unfold further, I woke up. I blame the goddamn cat who was trying to smother me in my sleep.
I eventually fell back asleep and another dream began. In this dream, I had gone back to my old high school. This wasn’t one of those dreams where I go back there as a student and start looking around for something I cannot find. This time, I was just visiting the place. There, I met some woman – a plump, plain-looking woman with short blond hair. She was some sort of charity worker, and for some reason I joined up with her operation, which led me into various crime-ridden neighbourhoods to help out the unfortunates there.
The dream then came to focus upon an unmarried black couple with a young son. Destitute, they were forced to live in an apartment without any central heating. This caused them to nearly freeze to death every winter night. On one of these cold winter nights, one of their neighbours – a gaudy pimp – was having a party, playing loud, shitty rap music which could be heard throughout the entire block. Suffering from the cold, this noise only added to the couple’s frustration, so they yelled out the window for the pimp to turn the noise down. The pimp, unremarkably an asshole, refused to comply.
The rest of that storyline trailed off and the dream realigned to focus on a friend who wanted to buy some rare comic magazine (I think it was a copy of Heavy Metal) that came inside a cardboard slipcase. Going to a liquor store/comic book shop, this friend found a copy of that exact comic but didn’t have the money to buy it. Deciding to pitch in, I went to the liquor store/comic book shop and offered to buy the comic myself as a present for my friend. As I was giving the seedy shopkeeper the money, though, I found the last few bills needed to complete the transaction were torn in half (cheap plastic Canadian cash). With me unable to pay him all the money, he gave me this offer: he’d give me the comic book if I’d cook meth for him. It didn’t have to be of the highest quality like the blue stuff from Breaking Bad; he’d settle for the cheapest garbage I could cook up. I agreed to the deal.
The rest of the dream – and any dreams I had later on – have all dissolved into a series of disconnected thoughts and feelings I can only just barely recall.
