In the pre-dawn dream I was walking north down Sussex and saw C who was in conversation. I started chatting with an elderly fellow as I walked with what could be a group or just a loose knot of crowd. I got engaged in conversation with the thin fellow in panama hat. His large white mustache twitched as he talked.
At some point I realized we were further south and west than I expected and started to say my goodbye at stairs going down as the mane quickened his step to help a woman take a walker down the stairs. People were behind and ahead. Way seemed block. I could say my goodbyes at the base of the stairs.
Then I didn't and we were all ushered past a restaurant dining room and lobster tank and I didn't know where we were going but I went and we were all seated in a board room in underground Parliament.
People went around the table introducing themselves and when there was a pause for me to say my name a woman's soft chilled hand went over my mouth and said "she's Pearl. Next." and hissed in my ear that I was not invited.
Some AGM-type formalities of meeting proceeded. It was a book launch, with a dozen assembled. There was a presentation of a book and a break and social time.
I got out of my bag a book and went back to the older gent and told him I realized that the book I was telling him about I had a copy of on me. He insisted he wouldn't buy it since it was my personal copy and then that he would buy it since I was so kind. Then when sales for the main book came, he pulled out his pocket liners and with a bit of mischief said he was flat out. The woman who had clamped her fingers over my mouth looked at me with icicles.
In a later dream, post-dawn, I was walking down the street with J and O and told them about what had transpired in the previous dream then they split off and I bumped into E and she told me she had a group gallery showing. Her neighbour did visual art merging clipped letters of the alphabet into a mixed materials canvas that was largely oil landscapes. But after we parted at the intersection, with snowbanks taller than our heads I realize she had told me everything about the artist of the stall beside hers and nothing about his own.
The snow blew harder in a later dream where I was stuck on a school bus with a driver who improvised the route, skipping the street I lived on. By his odometer was a reading that said it was 5:30 already and he was not yet at my house. He said he'd loop back going to Arnprior first. He wondered if there'd be kids left to pick up by the time he got there. He asked me how long it would take to get there. I named a random amount of time, an hour and a half, not knowing where Arnprior was or if we were headed that way.
Eventually my sense of direction was so muddled that I just dinged the bell to get off and a quarter mile later, he stopped. The snowbanks were twice my height. The white-out soon consumed the bus and the stretch of road. I decided to go back to the last known place and get a phone. Down a lane I decided would be too far, and too easy for me to get lost. I doubled back to the cheese factory but it was dark. Then the church and lights were on. Inside my aunt and cousin and uncle. I asked for a ride home.
Reflections on publicity
1 week ago