Yesterday morning I awoke from what was perhaps the most recursive dream I have ever had. The weirdest thing about this dream was that for a good portion of the end of the dream, I dreamt myself recording the dream by hand. I was writing down what I was dreaming, as I was still dreaming it. I think maybe I thought I was awake, but I definitely was not because when I woke up for real, I was disappointed that I had lost all of the notes I had taken regarding the events of the dream. But here is what I still recall:
The earliest portion of the dream was taking place at my house here in Kirksville, but the house looked radically different. It had no front door. My room was technically the same as the living room. Chris was over, and we were lounging on the couch talking about the cat, Mikey. We were intimate briefly, and then we discussed the implications of getting up and going to class when neither of us wanted to do this.
Joyce was there. She was going on and on about how she needed to use a flat iron/hair straightener but that she was afraid she would start a fire. She also expressed that she felt like she was going to trap Mikey in a stairwell by accident. Shortly thereafter I remember sitting at a table, joking with some friends about how ridiculous it was that Joyce acted like it was so hard to turn on a hair straightener, and that she was afraid of killing the cat. I recited everything she had said to me, and we all laughed about it.
The next part of the dream I remember is finding myself in a building that looked like it was the rec center. This guy was there. I think he might have been a cross between three different male friends of mine, but I can’t determine who he resembled the most. For the purposes of recording this, we will call him Carlson. Anyway, Carlson was sitting in a chair next to some yoga mats and bar bells. All I remember is another female friend and I rolling out yellow yoga mats to his left. Over and over again, we unrolled a yellow yoga mat.
Then there was a tour group. It was a family. They were coming through the rec center. Suddenly I was one of them. I was in the tour group. We all looked the same; caucasian, faded curly brown hair, slightly overweight. The person leading the tour group was actually a family elder. I sensed that she was the grandmother. The mother announced that on our way through the rec center, we were going to order pizza for dinner. The grandmother was taking the orders on a clipboard. She asked each individual what type of pizza they would like. When it came to me, I really just wanted to order a pineapple and pepperoni pizza, but she kept telling me that my only options were cheese, black olives, or a third vegetable that I cannot recall.
I didn’t want any of those. I tried to get her to let me order a pineapple pizza, but she refused. It was at this point that I noticed her beginning to take a pointed interest in me. I didn’t like her face, it made me nervous. She had huge eyes, and deep wells underneath them. Her face was almost as gray as her hair. She started following me a lot with her eyes. All of a sudden the rest of the tour group had disappeared, except for this grandmother. It was just she and I, and she was following me around a track in the rec center with her clipboard. She was asking me strange questions about the equipment around the rec center, and taking notes on her clipboard.
She started cornering me and asking me stranger and stranger questions. We were passing by a row of treadmills that were in a glass cubicle with a locking door. I ducked into the cubicle and locked it behind me. I began jotting down what was happening in a notebook that I pulled out of nowhere. I called out for the rest of the tour group to come back and get this grandmother away from me. The rest of the tour group never came back, but these two maintenance workers came in. They preoccupied the grandmother, and she eventually left.
But the two men were just chuckling at me, asking me how I had gotten myself into that situation with that grandmother. I don’t remember whether or not I answered them. I just remember feeling compelled to record what had just happened to me. My dream documentation of the dream as it was happening was very detailed. It was handwritten. It was much more detailed than I have just recounted it to be…but how weird.
I have another dream from the night before this, but I’m debating whether or not I want to post it. It could be potentially incriminating…