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Jan. 7th, 2011 11:17 pmRiding on this dream roll, I come bearing more memories of DreamsfromLastNight, which are more significant yet less humorous than TextsfromLastNight.
This dream, similar to a great number of my memorable dreams as of late, starred those from my high school band. Much like the trip that we took my senior year in high school, those who went were staying in a hotel, but as one expects from a dream, certain aspects were amiss: there was no band rehearsal; there was no band; nor was there a band director! We were all thus somehow connected without any clear point as to how we were connected.
In groups much smaller in number than those in which we traveled on our trip my senior year (and most definitely my sophomore year), there was very little travel from what I can recall; it was more perambulation through this suburban hub (central, yet considerably less populous).
That which has not yet escaped my memory is not very detail-rich, but the dream is more vivid in my mind as I near the end of the dream. Where there is more detail, however, there is a greater amount of grime surrounding these now fragmented details--which I suppose may be expected of a report of a dream that comes two-and-a-half hours after having awoken from the dream.
The one part that is rather vivid in my mind is when I expressed my disappointment in having been bro'd-before-ho'd by someone from high school whom I apparently had deemed a good friend (She was in the colorguard in reality, and we rarely acknowledged each other, if ever.) I told her that I had wished to be able to go shopping with her, and I was rather vexed by this since it was also the last day in he hotel for us "band people". What came after was an elevator bonding (with the bros-before-hoser and the "bro" in that inequality) up to the sixth floor; entering a lobby area in front of the elevator--with sleeping bags sprawled throughout (similar to reality's high school marching band trips when our band would sleep in a local high school's gymnasium); the then-higher-capacity elevator with its glass doors closed, just idling there for a few moments as if waiting for me to say my final farewells to the people on it; and the people on the elevator that broke out in dance. Feeling a wee bit crazy and not myself at that time, I decided to approach the glass doors and dance with them. I believe I fell or stumbled (or some other risible contretemps within the contretemps), because the others in the lobby and I--in addition to those on the elevator--partook in a guffawfest at whatever it was that I did. So, I was, seemingly immaturely, bidding people farewell--but it all ended well (read: happily).
This dream, similar to a great number of my memorable dreams as of late, starred those from my high school band. Much like the trip that we took my senior year in high school, those who went were staying in a hotel, but as one expects from a dream, certain aspects were amiss: there was no band rehearsal; there was no band; nor was there a band director! We were all thus somehow connected without any clear point as to how we were connected.
In groups much smaller in number than those in which we traveled on our trip my senior year (and most definitely my sophomore year), there was very little travel from what I can recall; it was more perambulation through this suburban hub (central, yet considerably less populous).
That which has not yet escaped my memory is not very detail-rich, but the dream is more vivid in my mind as I near the end of the dream. Where there is more detail, however, there is a greater amount of grime surrounding these now fragmented details--which I suppose may be expected of a report of a dream that comes two-and-a-half hours after having awoken from the dream.
The one part that is rather vivid in my mind is when I expressed my disappointment in having been bro'd-before-ho'd by someone from high school whom I apparently had deemed a good friend (She was in the colorguard in reality, and we rarely acknowledged each other, if ever.) I told her that I had wished to be able to go shopping with her, and I was rather vexed by this since it was also the last day in he hotel for us "band people". What came after was an elevator bonding (with the bros-before-hoser and the "bro" in that inequality) up to the sixth floor; entering a lobby area in front of the elevator--with sleeping bags sprawled throughout (similar to reality's high school marching band trips when our band would sleep in a local high school's gymnasium); the then-higher-capacity elevator with its glass doors closed, just idling there for a few moments as if waiting for me to say my final farewells to the people on it; and the people on the elevator that broke out in dance. Feeling a wee bit crazy and not myself at that time, I decided to approach the glass doors and dance with them. I believe I fell or stumbled (or some other risible contretemps within the contretemps), because the others in the lobby and I--in addition to those on the elevator--partook in a guffawfest at whatever it was that I did. So, I was, seemingly immaturely, bidding people farewell--but it all ended well (read: happily).
