Lost Drivers License and a Shake-Down at a Fancy Hotel
Not sure what’s up with the odd dreams — one the night before last, and another one last night which I remember in some detail.
Last night started at a fancy party in an expensive hotel. I didn’t recognize the hotel, or the area outside for that matter. We walked through a big dinning room, then through a smaller bar-like restaurant, and finally reached our party in the back of the hotel. I was wearing my wedding dress, and Melissa and Sweetie were there, but I don’t remember what they were wearing.
After a time, the party started getting pretty wild, and Mushi and I started walking back to the entrance of the hotel. This time, the restaurants were gone, and we were in these huge courtyards (almost more like grounds of a mansion, but we hadn’t left the hotel yet). On our way, we saw a large trailer, like the kind that go on the back of a semi-truck. I commented that it looked a bit like the Showmobile, a mobile stage that I’d performed on one summer long, long ago. As we continued past it, we found that, indeed, it was a mobile stage, but way more sophisticated than the Showmobile — this one was automated to set itself up, and we watched the stage gracefully slide into position.
We got up near the door of the hotel, and hung out against one of the walls. We weren’t ready to leave, but wanted to get away from the wild crowd that had formed in the back. I mentioned to a guy next to us about the mobile stage and its resemblence to one I’d performed on, and he said that he’d performed on the new one. In fact, it was after talking with me years ago about my experiences on the Showmobile that he’d sought out work on this other stage.
At this point, a break-off group from the back came loudly through the front of the hotel. Sweetie was among them, and had a huge bottle of champaigne that she was pouring into anyone’s mouth who asked. She started climbing this life-guard-like stand next to where Mushi and I had been hanging out, and I moved out of the way. Sweetie had trouble climbing up in the dress she was wearing, and slipped down after getting about half-way.
The police raided the hotel just after Sweetie’s failed climbing attempt. They had everyone stand facing the wall with our arms out. They suspected us of under-aged drinking and started asking for everyone’s ID. I couldn’t find mine, so after getting searched, we made our way back to the back of the hotel to see if it had appeared there.
We reached the hotel library (weird, huh?), and closed the door to avoid the police break-up of the party. There were three girls in there, all acting weird. After a time it came up that two of them were planning to commit suicide as soon as the police left, and one even flashed the knife she was planning to plunge into her heart. Mushi said something like, “That’s cool. We’ll leave you alone when the police leave.” After a few more awkward moments, I chimed in, pleading with the girls not to take their lives. I told them about how in high school I had thought about it every night for more than two years, and that on two occasions I’d actually taken a razor to my wrist and made a few “test” scratches. I was very depressed, but now, and even just a year or so after high school, was very glad I hadn’t gone through with it. I’m not sure if I convinced them, but they seemed less determined after my little speech.
After a time, we left the hotel and I was on my own. I started looking for my driver’s license at places I’d been throughout the day, including a very yummy store full of chocolates (a bit like the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory). They told me that the library back at the hotel had it. So I returned to the hotel, walked through the front restaurants again (the courtyard with the stage was gone), and asked for some help from some random employee. As we were walking to the library desk, he started kissing my back. I enjoyed it for a moment, then remembered that I was married, and told him that I really just needed the driver’s license. He got it for me, and I left the hotel through a side door, avoiding the front restaurants.