From time to time, I have a dream which is so vivid and has so much detail (that I can actually recall it long after I wake) that it just sticks with me. I had one of those early this morning; this one was also strange and, probably because it was strange, a bit disturbing. Or, maybe what is disturbing is that stuff like this actually comes out of my brain.
Anyway, the dream.
For whatever reason, I was in the process of renting an apartment or condo. Apparently, I'd rented it "sight unseen" from the complex that I used to own a condo in Torrance (that was where it was "supposed to be, anyway; the complex in my dream wasn't at all like where I used to live).
So, I arrive at the complex, park in the underground parking (this was like where I used to live) and took the elevator up to "the office" to get my key. The girl in the office handed me a piece of paper to sign, which I did; then, she gave me a copy of the paper and the key. Off I went, back to the elevator, to take it to the third floor.
Oh, by the way, I had Lucy with me; she was on her leash, and she kept pulling on the leash so I had to keep correcting her.
So, we get into the elevator and hold it for two other people (men) to get in. They get off on the 2nd floor. Up we go.
We get off the elevator and I start looking for the apartment/condo #322. Also unlike where I really used to live, all of the units were in exterior hallways (not enclosed). As I was wandering around looking for #322, I got a sense that the place wasn't exactly as safe and secure as I'd like it to be. It seemed that the side of the building I was on faced a deserted park or empty lot with a run-down fence around it and trash blowing all over. Thankfully, we turned a corner and where #322 was, the view was a bit better.
The entrance to the units were unusual; huge, tall doors (which made me feel like a shrunken Alice from "Alice in Wonderland". I approached #322 and pushed on the door as it wasn't completely latched. Not a good sign. Well, as we walked through the door, I realized we were in sort of an entryway; a smallish patio with a bit of a scraggly looking garden. I approached the door to the unit; again, it was very tall, looming up over me. I went to use the key, but, again, the door was not locked.
I opened it, walked in and was immediately struck with the sense that something was not right. First of all, there was a TV on and there was furniture in the apartment. I wondered to myself; "Did I rent a furnished apartment?" I started to roam around the apartment and kept discovering more and more signs that the place was not vacant; such as, I opened the refrigerator to find it full of food, I walked into the master bedroom to see an unmade bed, etc. But, no one was there. Well, it felt really wrong to me, so, Lucy and skedaddled out of there, pronto.
As we exited the first door, I looked up at the number and saw that it was #329. Oops!
So, off we went again in search of #322. I was feeling a bit better; at least I just made a mistake and gone into the wrong place; certainly, MY unit would be just fine.
We found #322 at last. In front of its exterior door (the same set up as #329 with the monstrous door leading into a small patio/garden) were several presents scattered about the ground. I looked down and saw that they were all for me. There was also a "For Rent" sign in the front window of the unit. Good, good, good.
Inside the patio/garden, it was still and quiet. I noticed there was a small table in the corner and on it were a pair of gardening gloves and a small trowel. Hmmm. Perhaps the former tenant left these items behind? I hoped that was all it was.
I used the key to unlock the door into the unit. I pushed open the door and Lucy and I walked in. We stopped just beyond the entry, looking about. We were standing on the edge of a very large room, which appeared, for the most part, to be a kitchen, except for that there was a toilet in the middle of the room.
Peri (one of my best friends, who all of a sudden had popped into the situation and was standing at my left shoulder) said, "Well, they could have at least put it in the CORNER of the room!" I was pretty aghast by the toilet (but wasn't overly perturbed by the fact that Peri had just appeared out of nowhere) but I was even more disturbed by the fact that the white tile floor had pink clowns painted on each and every tile.
As with #329, it soon became obvious that this unit also was not vacant. The three of us wandered around in search of the master bedroom, the second bedroom being nothing more than a large alcove/window seat that had a child's daybed in it. Finally, we reached a set of stairs that went both up and down. Looking up, we saw a small loft only large enough for the air mattress that was stuffed into it. The sheets on the air mattress were rumpled, as if someone had recently been in them.
Peri pointed down to the lower level (as I was asking myself, "What the hell is a basement doing in a 3rd level apartment?") and said, "Looks like that's where the master bedroom is". I looked down and it was dark and dank and scary looking.
"There isn't any way in hell that I am sleeping down THERE!" I said, already knowing I was not going to be renting #322 anymore than I was going to rent #329.
We sat down on the stairs; Lucy literally climbed into my lap and started to lick me and try to "hug" me. I said, "Lucy, what's gotten into you? Stop it!"
Peri said, "Aw, she just loves you, that's all".
I went over and picked up a huge pile of newspapers and started carrying them somewhere, probably to a recycling bin. As I was carrying them, I realized they were REALLY heavy; much more so than they should have been. As I walked, Nigel fell out of the heap of papers. I looked down at him, surprised, and said, "Hey, Nige!" He was freaked out and scared; I was trying to be careful not to freak him out anymore so that I could approach him and scoop him up, which I finally managed to do.
And then I woke up.
Upon waking, I told Mr. B my dream. I said, "Why would I dream about tile with clowns painted on them?" to which he replied, "What was a TOILET doing in the middle of the room?"
So, yeah; it is so weird what our brains think up. Weirder still is WHY? I don't think the dream books I have say anything about pink clowns painted on tile or your beloved (but dead) cat falling out of a heap of newspapers!
I suppose if you allow them to be so, dreams can be really entertaining and thought-provoking; even creepy and scary; sort of like watching a Stanley Kubric movie.