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infrogmationI dreamed I was at an out-of town conference at some university. I was in the very nice conference center, half-an-hour before the keynote presentation, to be given by Gwen Iffil (former tv journalist/writer) and Gwen Thompkins (New Orleans music reporter/writer). It was billed on promotional posters "Special Double Gwen Event!" I realized I didn't have my camera nor smart-phone with me, so I couldn't take photos, but fortunately my room was in a hotel just across the street so I had time to go get them. I crossed the street and went up in an elevator to my room, got my camera and phone, then decided to lie down on the bed for a minute. Then I realized I'd fallen asleep and was unable to wake back up and would miss the key event of the conference! Oh no! I finally succeed in waking myself up in my dream, and found out to my relief that missing the event had just been a dream, and actually it was first thing in the morning and I had hours to spare.
I exited the hotel bedroom through another room in our small hotel suite, sort of a breakfast nook, where Ms H. and a good trumpeter who I used to play in a band with were chatting. They'd gone to the nook room to talk so as not to wake me, which I found very considerate. Apparently our band was to play for the conference in the evening.
I noticed some ants eating a dead termite on the floor of the nook room. I knew that these termite-eating black ants didn't bother humans, and if you had to have ants indoors these were the best kind of ants to have, so I decided not to complain since the hotel accommodations were otherwise very good, so I could put up with those ants for a couple of days.
I went down to the hotel lobby, where there was a cafe and a row of small shops. I spotted my father sitting at a cafe table flirting with a woman who I was pretty sure was a hooker. I knew this was after my mother died and before my father got remarried, so I thought that was his business and none of mine. He spotted me and seemed embarrassed, but I pretended not to notice him. I decided to walk the long way around to keep distance, even though I found that to do so I had to climb up a ladder on a tower supporting photography equipment then climb back down the other side.
Then I found that I was in a multi-level shopping mall in Tokyo. Floors, ceilings, and walls were all white with a plethora of multi-colored neon signs, all in Japanese, which I couldn't read. I could only recognize a couple of symbols, and there were a very few words in Western Roman script, but not enough for me to get any useful information from. I had memorized the layout of the place the previous day, but over-night they had completely redecorated and rearranged everything, so I had no idea how to get back to my room.
I took out my phone to call Ms H - If she didn't know the answer off hand, she could use her business manager talents to get the needed information. However I found that instead of a telephone keypad, I would have to dial the number using a book of colorful postage stamps, pressing on an individual stamp of a certain value to enter a number. This took me a while to figure out, and after a few unsuccessful tries succeeded in dialing H's number. However it gave me a message that I had to add a country code, which turned out to be a long text phrase I had to input using the awkward postage stamp input.
There was also an incident, it might have been somewhere in this dream or a different one, involving a type of hot chocolate mix we recently got from a Latino grocery, except in the dream the hot chocolate had letters like alphabet soup made of chocolate. I and some other fellow were quite sure that there was some sort of message in the letters, but we couldn't figure it out before the letters dissolved.
I exited the hotel bedroom through another room in our small hotel suite, sort of a breakfast nook, where Ms H. and a good trumpeter who I used to play in a band with were chatting. They'd gone to the nook room to talk so as not to wake me, which I found very considerate. Apparently our band was to play for the conference in the evening.
I noticed some ants eating a dead termite on the floor of the nook room. I knew that these termite-eating black ants didn't bother humans, and if you had to have ants indoors these were the best kind of ants to have, so I decided not to complain since the hotel accommodations were otherwise very good, so I could put up with those ants for a couple of days.
I went down to the hotel lobby, where there was a cafe and a row of small shops. I spotted my father sitting at a cafe table flirting with a woman who I was pretty sure was a hooker. I knew this was after my mother died and before my father got remarried, so I thought that was his business and none of mine. He spotted me and seemed embarrassed, but I pretended not to notice him. I decided to walk the long way around to keep distance, even though I found that to do so I had to climb up a ladder on a tower supporting photography equipment then climb back down the other side.
Then I found that I was in a multi-level shopping mall in Tokyo. Floors, ceilings, and walls were all white with a plethora of multi-colored neon signs, all in Japanese, which I couldn't read. I could only recognize a couple of symbols, and there were a very few words in Western Roman script, but not enough for me to get any useful information from. I had memorized the layout of the place the previous day, but over-night they had completely redecorated and rearranged everything, so I had no idea how to get back to my room.
I took out my phone to call Ms H - If she didn't know the answer off hand, she could use her business manager talents to get the needed information. However I found that instead of a telephone keypad, I would have to dial the number using a book of colorful postage stamps, pressing on an individual stamp of a certain value to enter a number. This took me a while to figure out, and after a few unsuccessful tries succeeded in dialing H's number. However it gave me a message that I had to add a country code, which turned out to be a long text phrase I had to input using the awkward postage stamp input.
There was also an incident, it might have been somewhere in this dream or a different one, involving a type of hot chocolate mix we recently got from a Latino grocery, except in the dream the hot chocolate had letters like alphabet soup made of chocolate. I and some other fellow were quite sure that there was some sort of message in the letters, but we couldn't figure it out before the letters dissolved.
