I had a dream about elevators.
I fucking hate elevators, but I have to deal with them every day. It’s a stupid irrational fear that they’ll malfunction. I’ve never truly had an elevator malfuntion with me in it, but the one at Carter East came damned close every time I stepped into it. I started insisting that we take the stairs after a while …
Anyway, the dream. I was in an appartment complex, much nicer than the one I’m in now. I was cleaning my room, which was for whatever reason the exact same as my room in the trailer I lived in seven years ago.
Recently my dreams have included the sense of touch more vividly. I never “felt” things before in my dream, but now I am. Can be a good thing, like in this dream, with the kitties and the soft rats and such. Wasn’t good two days ago.
Back to the dream: I was stuffing things into my dresser. I felt the need to hide things. I was stuffing Black & Mild cigars into the bottom drawer, and I was stuffing, more importantly, pictures. Photographs. I couldn’t see who was on them, though. I was in a hurried panic, like someone was coming home and I didn’t want them to see that I’ve been crying and looking at pictures and smoking.
I was dressed in black. Not the random black like I usually, but a black dress and black stockings, hair dyed black.
Someone important to me had died.
My roommate, whom I couldn’t identify, knocked on the door. She told me I need to get over it. It’d been years. I needed to do something with my life other than wollow in misery.
I just yelled at her that dishonoring the memory of a lover is the worst crime anyone could commit.
She just told me that was bullshit. She was going out dancing that night with her friends and I was welcome to join her. It was a bar/club/arcade with DDR and PIU.
Fine. I decided to go. I don’t have to enjoy the people to enjoy the game.
While I was getting ready, I let the rat and the cat out to play in the room. They liked each other, mind. The little grey rat was infinitely cute as she hid in my laundry basket, and poke her head out from under clothes. The cat, white, tried very hard to sit on me. After changing into an outfit that looked exactly like the one before, I put the animals away and stepped out of my bedroom.
My roommate led me out into the hall and out of the appartment, and, forwhatever reason, there was no elevator down.
Outside we met up with her friends. Three black guys. One was was more of a half’n’half. He wore a yellow shirt. He was so excited to finally have someone to play dancing games with. He struck me as a total dweeb.
The second black guy was my roommate’s boyfriend, so I didn’t even look at him.
The third was a very, very dark man, and he wored a black trench coat. He had long hair in dreads, and wore sunglasses. SPOOOOKY.
These people bear no resemblence to anyone I know in real life.
We go out. We come back. We’re going to go up to the apparment.
We step into the elevator. The dark guy and I must have hit it off, because we were holding hands. He hits “4.”
The elevator goes up.
And up.
and up.
And up.
And it stops at the top.
And it drops.