Dream of:05 August 1989 "Floating In The Elevator"
I was sitting at a counsel table in a courtroom where a trial was in progress. Another attorney and I were representing one party in the case – apparently a contract dispute. Besides myself, both parties and all the other attorneys were sitting here on both sides of this long, rectangular table. I was sitting so that one end of the table was on my left and someone else was sitting on my right. I was looking directly at the jury, and tried at times to decipher their faces to determine what they were thinking.
I was concerned by the length of my long hair, which was parted in the middle and pulled back on both sides behind my ears. When I looked at the jury, out of the corners of my eyes I could see the hair on both sides of my face.
As the trial proceeded, both the other attorney with whom I was working and I were caught off guard as one of the opposing attorneys introduced a damaging document into evidence. The document indicated that after my client had made the original contract with the opposing party, he had then entered into a side agreement to pay the opposing party approximately $40,000-$50,000. I could immediately see that this document was probably going to destroy our case. I had known about the document, but had hoped the opposing side wouldn't find it. But now that they had put the document into evidence, our case looked rather hopeless.
The judge adjourned the case for the day. The judge (probably in his early 40s) appeared to be beginning to bald. As he left the courtroom, I rushed over to him to asked him something. But he told me he was in a terrible hurry and didn't have time to talk with me. With that he left me standing.
I walked down the hall and boarded an empty elevator. While here, I decided to do some little tricks which I had learned which had to do with the way I stand up. I had learned to lean over to a great degree without actually falling. I leaned forward and to the side at around a 45 degree angle and then straightened back up. Before the elevator door closed, another fellow walked on, and he watched me do the leaning. I didn't mind showing off for him a bit, and thought he was probably rather impressed.
I then decided to show him an even better skill: my ability to float. I took a deep breath, jumped into the air, and for a moment felt myself floating. But I was unable to maintain the floating position for long without coming back down on the floor. I repeated the procedure several times, but each time I was only able to float for a short time. Yet it was clear that I was at least successful at it for a short while.
I was walking down a street in New York City with Carolina and another girl (about 16 years old). Apparently needing to ask directions, we stepped into an old furniture store, where we saw a man probably in his 40s standing in a room full of furniture.
The girls immediately begin looking at a reclining easy chair, and the man told them they would win a prize if they found something in the chair. They looked for quite a while, until I finally walked over to them, and discovered they were looking for some small batteries. Upon learning this, I was surprised to see that in my hand I was already holding what appeared to be two size "C" batteries which I had apparently picked up here in the store. About the same time the girls seemed to have found a couple more batteries in a little box attached to the bottom of the chair.
As they continued looking around, it occurred to me that since we were in New York, I might as well call Weinstein. I hadn't intended to call him at first, but I figured that since I had an extra girl with me, he might want to go out somewhere with us. I saw a stack of several phone books and began looking for the one of Manhattan. There seemed to be large phone books here from all over the United States and I had a difficult time finding the one for Manhattan. I knew I had Weinstein's number on my computer, but it would be too much trouble now to try to retrieve it from the computer.
I finally found a Manhattan phone book and found a number in bold print for Weinstein. But beside the name, it said that this Weinstein was running for some kind of political office. Since I didn't think the Weinstein I knew was running for any political office, I decided that wasn't him and began looking for another phone book. I looked through another book, but it was so confusing trying to figure it out I was beginning to think it was going to be hopeless. Finally the man in the store came over and I willingly allowed him to help me. The man also mentioned some kind of club where I could take the girls. He said they would be allowed to drink alcohol in that particular club.
I had Weinstein on the phone. He seemed surprised, although not particularly happy, to hear from me. I told him about the girls, and he seemed concerned about their being so young. I was unsure whether he wanted to go with us.
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