Saturday, February 14, 2009

Dreamovie 80

I am attending a Muslim funeral. I drive up to the mosque, which is nothing more than a large house on a small hill. As I walk towards it, it opens up and the ground before me fills with chairs, folding chairs, but elegant. People are seated in those chairs. I sit down for a second but almost as soon as I do I rise to go up to the front. I am just ahead of my father. I'm feeling bad because I know the dead man but not well. I am not sure I'm acting as I should since I've never been to such a funeral service. As I walk up to the man lying out on a table in a shallow casket, I have to pass by and talk to a few women who are standing in a group just before where he lies. Afterwards, my father and I walk to the back of the house, where cars are sitting in the snowy mud

I go to work, where many of us are sitting at tables working on developing displays for some event. As I arrive at the table where Denis is working on a display, the commissioner of my agency also arrives. Denis begins to read something to the commissioner, but it soon becomes clear that what he is reading is a song. I mention that, trying to diffuse a situation, and the commissioner agrees with me. For some reason, it seems to me that Denis is being almost impolite, but not exactly. He is being simply a little undeft in his manner around the commissioner. By this point, I am sitting down at the table with Denis, a display board standing up between us. We leave that area, walk down the hall, making a right hand turn where the hallway ends. I have picked up a nice cubic foot box, and I'm trying to remove the many telephone books and squished balls of tissue paper that are filling it. I have to place these in a large rolling gondola for recycling, but I first have to stuff the material into other weird sized boxes that are resting next to the gondola, including one that is a long but shallow rectangle.

We, though who we are is indistinct, are trying to escape from an old rich man. We have driven to the top of a building that has just been built. It is of a very simple design, but elegantly so. The roof is small but densely studded with antennas of all shapes and types. There are even antennas that lie flat on the surface of the roof. I see that one of the antennas ends in a thick metal lightning bolt, which I know is the antenna that my phone uses so I don't worry about reception. We are riding over the top of this small roof in a tiny van. As my brother Rick drives the van towards the edge of the roof, he says that we'll have a brief gentle fall. Then he drives off the room and we float gently down the four floors to the street. I see this take place from the point of view of someone perched on the edge of the roof even though I am in the van. One we land on the street below, we make a right turn at the corner of the building and turn into a steady stream of traffic.

We are still being chased by the rich man who is driving a very small car, one he barely fits in. We elude him for a bit, but later we realize that he is resting on the flat bed of a tractor-trailer between large crates filled with cargo. I see this as if I am floating above the truck, but I am in a van a couple of miles ahead of him at this point. The man's car is now a standard white toilet, and its bowl filled with water that does not leak out. He is resting beside the toilet as the truck follows us.

We find ourselves in a little Christian revival taking place beside a small pond in the woods. We have not been baptized, so they are preparing to baptize us but they are not sure we are ready for it. The old man arrives on the scene, so we are anxious to be baptized, or to enter the water and escape from him. The people begin to sing and file their way down an aisle created between their pews of folding chairs laid out upon a gentle slope and stopping right at the edge of the water. The people at the revival walk down the aisle carrying white computer keyboards that are actually complete computers. They hold them as if they were lyres or small harps. They are singling. Some place their computers on a seat and walk into the water, while others sit down and begin to type into their computers.

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