I’m driving with someone who has brought a lot of negative energy into my life, yet, somehow we remained courteous and casual with one another. It was somewhat sunny and we were on the road for some reason; where were we supposed to be driving? We stop at grocery store built on top of an underground palace.
Moments later, we’re in the store. I kept getting lost among aisles and aisles of obscure items: toys from my childhood, old China tea cups and platters, and other forgotten bits of ephemera. Did someone put a flea market in with the super market?
I find my way through a door and discover a wide spiral staircase. It stretches modestly to a tiled pathway adorned with green lights. The path leads to an ornate door garlanded in a daisy chain of colored lights. Above the door hangs, from a fixture, a brass lamp spraying a warm yellow light. Turning the knob, I open the door and enter into…
The underground palace is spacious and contemporary, utilizing some natural light. But how? Comfort and decadence exudes from the complicated and arcane reliefs chiseled into the wooden frames of the doors and molding along the walls and ceiling. A plush carpet greets my footsteps. I’m barefoot, which happens quite a bit in my dreams. It smells of incense burned in Indian temples. The walls are adorned with art and windows.
Back in the grocery store, I realize that I’m far behind in time. It seems like I’ve been inside for hours. We’re on a tight time schedule. Someone is being disappointed.
Someone offers me a cigarette. I decline. They offer again, I accept.
Then I’m back in the super market again, looking, checking down aisles for my companions. I found a door that lead out to a small, fenced yard. It’s a wet Fall day. A child points to a space in the fence for me to get through. I look through. The view is far from the road.
Running back into the store, I find the exit and continue running. It’s still wet and overcast. The car was gone. I run off, passing kids playing on the side of the road.
I think I woke up at that point.