Dream [29 Oct 2011]

I am sitting in very last seat in a tiny jet plane. It is the only seat and the walls are on either side of it, narrowing to a point behind. I can see the back of other people's heads in front of me, and they all look the same. I can see the captain at the front as there is no intervening wall. I am confused about where I am going and a bit nervous that this tiny plane cannot make a trip from where I am (Europe someplace) to Columbia and I thought I was going somewhere else. I take out my travel documents - crumpled - from a bag at my feet and they say that I am going to Spain, but the name of the city is unclear. I can read it and then I can't and when I can again it says something else. 

Did I fall asleep? The plane is moving but not in the air, it is driving on a small highway, cars pass going the other way and I see more cars in front of us. The captain is speaking to me though I cannot see him. He says, Don't worry we will get there, it will just take a little bit longer.

I'm jogging in a dirt rut next to a road and it is covered with litter and trash. The road intersects with a wide metal bridge and I look to my right and see a river and across it many small structures on the other bank of the river amidst trees. Someone jogs passed me on the left, I look and it is Bert and as she passes me I say, Sneaking up are you? & it is meant to be funny (a partial quote of Matt K "sneaky phud sneaking up"), and though she looked over, now she is already leaving me behind.

The "lobby" of this hotel is cheap and run down, with a dark shabby carpet and dilapidated furniture crammed along the walls on which sit small groups of people sleeping. But the room is dominated by a large oddly shaped bar, as if the room had once been a saloon and is no longer, shoved up against the bar is a desk covered in papers and a tall young guy is assuring me that everything is alright and he points at my travel papers. I try again to read them and again the words seems to shift and change, looking like they are in Cyrillic at one point. But I am in Spain somewhere and I am going to some unknown city in Turkey next, but only staying for three days.

I approach the service station and there is a bus parked out front with a line of people handing baggage to a man on the roof and waiting to get on this old fashioned bus. I look through the windows into the garage and see a man who looks familiar and next to him a tarp over a car that seems to be partially disassembled. I look at the people by the bus and now the same man I saw in the garage behind me is getting on the bus. I want to talk to him to tell him that I think that somehow, though it seems impossible, that it is my old car in this garage, but I also know that I never owned a light blue Karman Ghia and cannot imagine how it could have made it from the States to wherever I am now. I look into the garage through the window in the garage doors and now I see that it is a wagon (the kind that needs a horse to pull it) under the tarp and not a car at all though I am still wondering about how my old car could have gotten across the ocean. There are piles of metal parts and other trash in the lot next to the station and the bus is still here but I do not see any people on it.

I'm back at the "hotel" sitting down and I see next to me my friend Dariush and he's holding a baby on his chest and rapping to it. The other chairs and couches are all filled with sleeping or dozing people. I think Dar's rapping is somehow funny and I say something both encouraging and ironic. A man sitting across from us looks at me, seemingly with negative judgement in his expression & I realize it is my ex-father-in-law (Mr. D.). But also somehow all these people are a family and I wonder if it is my family somehow.

Looking out window of a tourist bus now and I am Turkey somewhere. I am still confused about where I am and look yet again at my travel papers but they are no help. There are many shops along the street and they look like junk and/or antique shops and are mostly dark inside, but the street is filled with women who are dancing with long silky streamers tied at their wrists. They are all naked and it seems odd that one would find women dancing naked in the streets in Turkey to me, a false stereotype of mine? I wonder if this is a red light district or something but that doesn't seem to be the case somehow, the women all move simultaneously and are equally spaced across the street. They do not look quite real somehow, more like very good CGI.