I'll be moving from rural Indiana to Chicago in a few short weeks, and my subconscious is working out some low-level anxiety by giving me funny apartment anxiety dreams.
Last night's dream: I showed up with a truck full of stuff, ready to move in, and (though I've seen it before) it was not quite as nice as I'd hoped.
My new place was on the ninth floor, which was inaccessible by elevator. The hallway was open air, and there were vagrants coming in from the fire escape.
The apartment itself had no interior walls, and the apartment lady said "Oh, yes it does, in fact, they're better than usual walls, they are customizeable!" And she yanked a piece of cardboard out of a slit in the wall and scraped it across the floor. "See?"
Then I noticed there were holes in the windows, and my cats were scared to come out of their carrier. Then a bunch of people ambled in with drinks and cigarettes in hand, and I couldn't get them to leave. I started screeching about second-hand smoke, and how, where I live now, the people down the hall from me smoke with their door closed, and even then my clothes smell of cigarette smoke. YELL, YELL, YELL, I went, and the crowd started getting angry with me.
I ran downstairs to discover that the basement pool was full of live electrical wires and junebugs, and even worse, I could not stop myself from repeatedly falling in the water.
I love anxiety dreams. They're always so ridiculous.
No comments:
Post a Comment