I had a dream that was so intense and powerful last night that hours later I fell back into it. Any and all interpretive help would be much appreciated. Please excuse this self-indulgence but man, these images and feelings are still reverberating in my head and I can't quite shake them.
For some reason I was compelled to give up our lovely, comfortable 2 bedroom apartment in Greenwich Village for a far sleeker and more modern one—way over by the east river. In my dream it was 28th Street, but the neighborhood was filled with grey, faceless office buildings. Deserted sidewalks at night and on weekends, wind whipping off the water, chemical plants close by, no public transportation. We needed to take taxis to get everywhere, but as none sped by, usually we had to briskly (and nervously) walk the empty streets to get back to people-filled places. Bleak.
The lobby of the new building was retro modern with a staircase that reminds me now of the one in the Brady Bunch's house. Only, I didn't realize when we rented the apartment, that was the way we'd always have to get upstairs. There was one creaky old elevator that could barely fit two people. Being stuck in an elevator is a real fear of mine and I knew I'd never get in it. And there was no doorman. I remember being super upset in my dream—how could I have not realized? Living in the city with someone downstairs gives me a real sense of ease. How could I have moved to a place, in a questionable area, without one?
We had 2 floors. Lots of space. The master bedroom was pink and green, almost the exact shades of my room growing up (chime in here people). Huge open kitchen. The kids had rooms of their own. I think the apartment ran from the front to the back of the building. But I just wanted to go home. I went back to our old place and was told they'd already rented our apartment to someone else, I was out of luck.
Then my mother-in-law was there. With endless bags and make up and clothes strewn everywhere (this happens when she visits in real life too—hard to imagine that a 1 night stay would require what I'd pack for a week), she couldn't leave fast enough for me. And she didn't really want to. She kept coming back to get more things she'd forgotten. Or to ask fashion advice. I remember, at one point, she tried on a pair of black boots trimmed in pony fur, asking for my opinion. I told her they screamed 1980s and not to wear them. She left them on. At this point, I stopped getting dressed and was crying so hard I couldn't talk anymore, but no one was helping. I woke up and it was 4am.
Later, for my dream's epilogue, I was bringing a crowd of people back to the apartment for a party. As we trooped up the steps, I felt them sway underneath me, starting to separate from the brick wall. I wasn't sure we'd all make it upstairs before they collapsed. And, if we did, how would anyone leave?
I can still picture it all, hours later. The light in the new living room against the darkness of furniture that wasn't mine. Not being able to keep track of where the kids were. Begging the managing agent to please, please, PLEASE screw the other people and let me come home.
I'm guessing, with FLOW officially on sale in 9 days, being on the verge of something new is freaking me out. People keep telling me it will "change my life," and while I want that to happen, what if the new stuff isn't what I want or expect? I'm already on a pretty intense emotional rollercoaster and am not sure I can handle more. There's the whole not being listened to aspect, but hey, don't we all have that?
Maybe there was a trace of apartment envy after being at a party last night with room after room after room. Maybe mixing margaritas and screwdrivers caused more than this headache. Maybe I really need down time, to sit with all these things and sort them out.
Day 32 is dazed and confused.