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Moonwalk Gym, Phillip signs, Girls on the Bus
Aug 28, 2010


i was debating, maybe for too long, whether or not to get up to write this dream down. but it had some interesting details involving my beloved cat Phillip so I decided it was worth it. Besides, the wind is gusty out, and it makes the house creak.

I'll start with the Phillip details first. both Henry and Phillip were alive, but the age roles were reverse. Phillip was older than Henry. Henry was relatively spry, while Phillip was aging and slow. Furthermore, as I noticed, he had a streak of dark red in his black and white mane. I wondered about this, but it wasnt until i noticed it again in a brighter hue that I became concerned. I knew he was bleeding from somewhere but I could not locate it. I thought it might be his paw, which was also bloody. Then I noticed two open spots on his fur, having looked like they'd been licked hairless (usually a sign of psychological stress or other funky mental stuff). I remember thinking oh no, how am I going to teach him not to lick himself there. I'll just have to watch him. But later on, as I brought the cat to my Mom to show her the spots, My mom pointed to things that looked similar on her body. She lifted her shirt (her breasts were either not there or of no import) and showed me spots on her torso. they looked like calluses.

Phillip the cat could then speak, and he may have been standing on two legs too, because he was suddenly taller. He pointed to my mother's spots as well, and then back to his own. Was he speaking to us? In English? It could not be. I think there was an element of telepathy, however, that made it feel as though he were speaking to us in sentences. I definitely sensed his understanding of his own affliction, and was even connecting dots that perhaps my Mom and I had not; I, too, had spots on me that resembed callusus or cysts. This I told the doctor on the phone. My mom had called him and asked, but because i had done so much backseat driving, she just handed the phone over to me, and I asked the doctor directly my last question, which was if they werent just cysts instead of indicators of cancer or heart disease, as he had suggested. He was being jestful, and somehow i ended up on the other end of the line, in that office, waiting for something.. a check up perhaps.

the guys in the room were telemarketers or something of the sort, sitting in cubicles. One had a leprechaun's beard-stache and long eyelashes, and I asked him if he'd ever been told he looks like an Irish Michael J. Fox. Didnt even have to finish the name, he had been told plenty of times and was not enthused. Not too offended either though. The other guys were all palling around, and although I was feeling out of place and that they may make fun of me for being a newbie or whatever, they played nice and left me alone for the most part. Not sure what i was supposed to do with them or where we were. They were all dressed more or less the same, in faded navy blue hoodies, as if part of a landscaping crew.

From here I somehow moved on to a place that was well known and somewhat elitist, or perhaps cultish. Everyone who entered had to change into blue and white jumper suits/gym suits. The guy who led me in was like Joe Maidenberg, but with long curly hair, taller, and more cultish (friendly, happy, come join in-y). In fact, the only way he was like Joe Maidenberg is that he didnt seem to have time to stop and abduct me into the cult, so he assumed the rest of the place and people would. The place was like an enormous elaborate Moonwalk, except it had stairwells and metal platforms. Someone was touring me around, one of the guys perhaps. I had changed into my gymsuit to take the tour (i was not yet a member) but didnt remember doing so. My backpack was between a piss toilet and a stall, on the ground. Not the best place to keep my belongings, and if my dream had been consistent, this place would have been decked out with nice lockers. It had nice everything else, but something about it wasn't rubbing me the right way. From the beginning I had this sense that it was a cult.

I reached the first platform via the stairs which were metal mesh painted off-white. On the platform, there were rows of chairs, mostly filled with people, maybe as many as 50, waiting for the treadmills. There were only 4-5 treadmills, and they were currently occupied. This made no sense to me, and I said so outloud. My tour, one of the guys, seemed to sympathize but did not offer consolation or rationale. I looked again. Unbelievable. Why would they wait there to use a treadmill? Why didnt they install more treadmills? This place was huge, they could easily put in more treadmills. When i first saw them i was excited to get on one. I knew that i had to get started and a treadmill might be a good way, since i have been doing so much regressive smoking lately (true).

We ascended to another platform which also faced another side of the gym room. There were soundbooths set up with drum sets in them. Other drumsets, not completely assembled, were hanging from the walls. I wondered if it was possible to play the sets without making too much reverberant noise in this huge bouncy gym (that, btw, was one reason i was not too fond of the place... it was shady because it was make-shift. like a giant air filled moonwalk that could be deflated and re-inflated in another location. Another reason was the exorbitant price of membership for such a makeshift moonwalky location and relatively few actual facilities) My tour guy pointed and we watched as the front electronic door came down and the music began. The door acted like a mirror to the people outside the circular soundbooth, while inside no one could see but everyone could hear the music being made. It was some kind of rock song. It was not perfectly executed but it was ok.

We descended to the floor to see closer up. I heard someone brush by me and say that the drummer had excellent rhythm. I thought, 'ehh, i could have better rhythm' if we do this one song i really want to do, and if i practiced a little. I'm not sure what song it was, but it involved a groovy steady beat and had lyrical parts with an english blokey accent. Just then two blokes came into the scene, but they were apparently talking about heading out to be in a fight. someone was in trouble, or wanted to fight or something.

Something eventually made me think that I'd had enough, and that i wanted to get going. I did not delay. I headed straight for the bathroom to change back into my stuff. The Joe Maidenberg guy caught up and asked me why i didnt like the place, or if i was not interested in staying. and I chuckled a little and shook my head and said "nope". Someone was pissing near my backpack on the floor, so i grabbed it and went outside the bathroom onto some benches to change. He followed but i forget what he asked next. I eventually left the place and headed for a bus.

On the bus, I met a beautiful Amazonian - she was brazilian, lighter skinned, her face was hard to look at but her body was gorgeous. It's not that she was not pretty; her profile was attractive, but head on the light always seemed to put her features in the shadows. Plus she had a weird shaped nose, with sort of strong protruding bumps at near the top of it. Anyway, i think i had seen her before, in another dream or at another time in the same dream, or never before but convinced myself i had. She wore a purple shirt and black jeans. I thought of ways to start a conversation with her on the bus. She was with a friend, not as tall, brunette, pretty in the face, and this one started a conversation with me. I forget how or about what. She had been sitting closest to me, and perhaps the wind and rain (and lightning streak?) had made us all look in the same direction and comment on the same thing. From there, the conversation was nice and I could tell both of them were into me. We got off the bus and stood on the corner. It looked a lot like the Pentacrest from iowa, on a decline with steps and granite. The second girl had to go, and she ran off. She was now shorter and stockier with wavy strawberry blonde shoulder length hair, wearing army green cargos pants. I called after her and asked her name. Hyde! I confirmed with the brazilian in purple Did she say Hyde? Yes, Hyde. Ok.

Not sure what happened with the brazilian, where we went from there or if I went home alone. the latter is more likely, even in my dreams. I was hopeful though, and intrigued by my two new female friends.