7:19 a.m. - 2004-01-15
more fun than a bowl full of monkeys
dream just now:
moving to toronto, from the city on the other side of the river. you have to swim there, or at least i do because i don't have car. so i swim down the river, and reach the place where you cross over to swim through a pool to get to customs. the canadian side of the waters is colder, deeper, and choppier: it is compared in not so many words to the straits of magellan. once in canada i find myself in the car with natalie and another who i can no longer remember. she insists on driving us into an entirely different part of the city although i feel certain that customs should be right on the border. we have lunch at a chicken place (although i look around for the eateries i know indy has mentioned) (and my dad is later confused when i tell him i did not eat at a hamburger place) and then go to investigate housing, particularly the apartment natalie supposedly stayed at last summer. this is owned by local slumlord paul thomas, who gives the grand tour, including such advice as "you'll want to plug the bathtub in before you start the water running so as not to shock yourself." this is unclear though, because it seems that plugging the tub in is what *starts* the water running! anyway the bathroom itself is in a mildewy basement and filled with spare furniture and lamps so we politely back out of the place, with an altercation in the kitchen.
we then become entangled in an entirely different travelling plot. i have a small flash of memory of driving down very watery, sloshy, flooded roads and offering to pick up a hitchhiking dr. poss. travis is present.
next scene: underneath the towering foundational structures of the new condo project between broad and clayton streets. moonlight streams in from above and a merry time is had down there by myself, natalie, matthew smith, janet, and others who play about on the random flotsam of construction, using it for balance beams and so forth. the dream's true highlight is when a pack of small, excited, chattering monkeys begins a fabulous coordinated stunt, each walking up an inclined balance beam and leaping up into the air, tracing a neat parabola, at its apex they pass in front of an opening in the ceiling and are sillhouetted perfectly against the blue sky, and falling back down into the darkness, chattering monkey-like the whole way. they look like barrel-o-monkeys monkeys as they do this, and i try to get my camera from my bookbag, and set it for spot metering and no-flash, but apparently i scare the monkeys away in the process.
meanwhile, a guy reminiscent of andre from gay and lesbian studies, or kent from photography, or both fused into one, is annoyed that he is left out of the group, and strikes it for home alone. i consider doing the same, or playing in the mud, but natalie hints that greater fun is to be had between the two of us if we wait until we get back to the kitchen at the paul thomas house. i am skeptical but intrigued.
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