My plan was to keep to myself and avoid interacting with people for as long as possible, but that plan got derailed the very first day. Perhaps it wasn’t actually my first day there. It didn’t seem like move-in day. Our stuff was already there. Perhaps I’d moved in over the weekend and it was the first Monday or I moved in Thursday or Friday and it was the first Saturday. Something like that.
All I know is that it was a college dorm of sorts. I say “of sorts” because, though most of the tenants were in their late teens and early twenties, some were a lot older. I remember seeing a white dude who had to be in his 50s or 60s living there. I don’t know how old I was. I could’ve been young, but probably not. I looked it though and therefore blended right in with the college crowd.
I remember my room, which was smaller but more furnished and much more colorful than my apartment in real life, being quiet at the beginning as I inspected the little area I initially thought was some kind of storage closet. There were toys and candy in there. I restrained myself from immediately opening and eating the Smarties because I didn’t want to consume all that sugar.
I figured the previous tenant left that stuff in there, but I soon realized it was a lounge slash washing machine room for not just me but all the people who lived in my section of the dorm; the first common area I came across. The first social interaction I remember was going to show my immediate neighbor; a young black guy; the room I discovered, but I don’t remember actually showing him.
I do remember walking around with a girl I met. She was laughing at the way I was referring to other people. I didn’t know or remember anybody’s name, so I gave them descriptive nicknames. I specifically remember her laughing when I pointed out Dude In Purple. She suggested a name I think for herself, but I told her it had to be one that would make sense for the whole day.
The dorm was packed. Me and the girl grew to a party of five or more as we went to a bank inside or connected to the building. I sat at the counter; my new friends stood around me; as though I was going to open an account or something. The teller was an older woman with a weird name. “That’s not really your name,” I asked jokingly, “That’s like your stage name or something.”
Everybody around me started laughing; the teller was also smiling; as I realized the insinuation of what I said. “No, no, I’m not saying you’re a stripper or anything like that,” I offered apologetically, “Maybe you were a singer.” I emphasized the word “singer” to try to turn it into an innocent question, but it was too late. The joke had been made and they were still giggling about it.
Perhaps it wasn’t a bank after all as I clearly remember the woman asking me how many miles I had on my car. I thought a little; that’s not something I generally remember; and said “about 16,000”. My car was well over a decade old, but “16,000” seemed like a lot in the dream. She even had it near the top of the chart she showed me, though “160,000” would’ve made a lot more sense.
I don’t remember much else about the dream, but it was fun. Whenever I move, I try to avoid my neighbors for as long as possible, which was my original plan in the dream, but I enjoyed breaking that rule. In fact I did nearly the exact opposite. It, in hindsight, reminded me not of college; I never actually lived in a dorm; but of high school during which I had the most friends I ever had.
2022 [ November 16 ]