Willa's Journal

Friday, September 18, 2003:

Bob was leaning out over the stairwell to knock off a cobweb or something, and then just went on over. My heart stopped, and then I saw him, another version of him, come running down the hall and fly down the stairs yelling, "Dinah!" In the dream I was confused, and thought, was what I thought was Bob actually *Dinah?* I got up and ran after them, and saw Dinah walking away down the hall, although it looked like there was something wrong with her neck. Bob seemed to be okay. I woke up shaking.

Friday, September 18, 2003:

Some kind of post-apocalyptic world. Viggo Mortensen was a mechanic at an auto shop, and he also played an organ that was made out of car parts, or inside a car hood/engine, or something. I loved the music, and was infatuated with him.

He was getting ready to play, plugging an electrical cord into something underneath the car's hood, and I was there, and wishing he would pay attention to me. Michael J. Fox owned the shop, and said something to Viggo about "are you going to play now?" and he answered, "Does it look like I have any paid work to do?" Business was slow.

I made some comment about how much I loved the music, it was so . . . "organic." And then realized what I'd said and laughed and laughed.

Thursday, September 17, 2003:

I was moving into my grandmother's old house, except it wasn't (not her real house, I mean). Some people were coming over to help me move, and as I drove up to the back of the house, I realized that there wasn't any light back there, and thought that that's the first thing I would change--put up a light.

Mike drove up, and parked in the back of the yard, and he had a crutch--he had just had knee surgery. He walked up to me, along a fence at the side of the yard, and took something from the back of my car, and said he could carry it if I would bring his suitcase, which was on wheels.

We get into the house, and there is stuff all over--someone else is there and had been cleaning out closets and dressers, etc., and had left everything out. I hadn't realized that all that stuff was still there, but just figure I'll have to get rid of it or find a place to put it.

I notice a couple of televisions there (they're on), and realize that I don't have one. I realize that all this stuff isn't mine, and will be gone, and then what will I do? I wonder if I can convince whoever's in charge to give me the small television, or wonder if I should slip out and buy one right now?

I'm wearing overalls, and suddenly realize that I don't have a shirt on underneath, and feel self conscious, and try to pull the overall front over myself and cover up a little bit. Then I remember the suitcase, and realize I've forgotten to bring any other clothes at all. I wonder if I can borrow a shirt from someone, or if I should go home and get some clothes, or go buy some . . .

Then I'm at some kind of a craft store, selling a pile of magazines that I just bought. They're from the UK, so apparently more valuable than I'd realized, and the woman I'm dealing with is offering me $300 for them. That's a pretty good deal, and I'm pleased, until she tells me that instead of cash, she's giving me store credit. I tell her there isn't really anything there that I want, and she agrees to give me partly cash and partly credit (or tokens).

She starts showing me some of the stuff she has there, including some huge gold colored mobiles, but I'm really not interested, and they wouldn't go in my house, and I try to convince her of that.

Monday, September 15, 2003:

I was on some kind of a field trip to Disney World or Disneyland, and we were going to the Haunted Mansion. We got there, and were standing in line at a food court, and I realized that I didn't have my cell phone. I didn't want to go all day without it, and wanted to go back and get it, but the woman who was in charge didn't want me to go. I would have gone without permission, but I couldn't remember the room number where'd I'd left my stuff.

Thursday, September 11, 2003:

Dreamed that the PDA with the problem wasn't my real one, but another, a different one. It was silver, and I was confused about it.

Sunday, September 14, 2003:

Something about being in a large convention space and some kind of children's art contest/exhibit going on.

Something about getting a new computer and having to decide between an iMac-type one and a regular tower, which wasn't as fun, but maybe made more sense as far as practicality.

Saturday, September 6, 2003:

I was in London, in a museum or office building, maybe a government building. Anyway, a big building with a lot of marble, and big, wide staircases.

There was a Beatles exhibit there, and each Beatle had a different entrance. I chose the John Lennon entrance, and to get to the exhibit room you had to climb a tiny metal staircase kind of thing, like a rope-and-stick kind of thing that you would climb to get to a treehouse or something. They were up against a wall, though.

I tried it, and got up a few rungs, but just couldn't do it. I apologized to the woman below me, but said I had to come back down, and she had to go down first, and then me.

As I got off, the ladder fell off the wall and clattered down to the main floor, somehow falling down farther than the floor we were on, and I was appalled, and apologized again to the woman, saying how awful I would have felt if she had fallen, although in retrospect I'm not sure how I could have felt it was my fault.

I left the hall, wondering if the other Beatles' entrances were as difficult, and if they all led to the same place, i.e., if I could bypass the little ladder thing, but still end up in the same place.

And then, somehow, I was walking down a hallway that had Clinique products in it, kind of stacked in boxes here and there, and a couple of counters or tables with products on them. There was a new gift-with-purchase kind of thing, with an Easter egg-shaped eyeshadow compact and several other things, and I was trying to figure out if it should buy something to get it, although they only seemed to have one that had already been opened. I was hoping that if I actually bought something, they'd give me a gift that was still in a box, but it didn't seem likely.

Monday, September 1, 2003:

Dinah slipped out of the front door, and I ran out to catch her. There was ice on the sidewalk, and I was barefoot, but I thought it would be okay as long as she stayed right in front by the bushes, where she usually does. But then she took off and ran down the sidewalk, toward the creek, and I knew I couldn't run after her without shoes, so I rushed back in to get some, hoping I'd be able to find her.