Dream of: 02 December 1996 "Painting"
I stepped out of the building where I was, and discovered that some people were drag racing right outside. Perhaps 20 different dragsters were racing down a course, one at a time, as a crowd of men stood and watched on the sidelines. At the end of the course was a brick wall and all the cars had to stop before reaching the wall, or they would crash. At first I stood near the end of the course, not far from the wall, but then I realized I was in a dangerous location, because if a car were to hit the wall, it might bounce off and hit me. So I moved closer to where the rest of the men were standing.
I noticed that almost all the men had long hair. I liked that. I had always liked long hair on men and remembered when long hair was much more popular. I couldn't explain why race car drivers and fans would be more inclined than other men to have long hair; but such appeared to be the case. I might start hanging around more with these people just because they had long hair. Maybe it would start a trend. My own hair was starting to get somewhat long, and I had been planning to have it cut. But maybe now I would just let it grow.
But I did feel uncomfortable for one reason: I was only wearing a pair of white jockey shorts, and was holding an aqua blue towel around me. I looked around to see if anyone else was only wearing shorts, but I saw that everyone else was dressed in pants. Feeling more and more uncomfortable about my attire, I decided to go back inside.
When I did so, I finally realized where I was: on the second floor of the Gallia County Farmhouse. Actually the race track was also on the second floor of the Farmhouse, and ran along the hallway at the top of the stairs. The brick wall at the end of the track was nothing more than the door at the end of the hallway, and the cars weren't real cars, but tiny toys. I assimilated all these realizations without surprise, and turned my attention to what I had been doing before I had gone out to see the cars: I had been painting the floor of the living room.
As part of the renovation of the upstairs of the Farmhouse, I had been working on redoing the floor. I had started to paint it, but had become disappointed because the paint had been turning different colors. First it was a brownish color, then it turned to blue. But now I was happy to see that it was exactly the color I had wanted: a rich gray. Apparently the paint had just needed to set a while to become the right color. I saw some lumps in the paint which I had already put on the floor, but I was able to work them out. The end result was a floor which looked more as if it was made of old bricks than of wood. I liked it. I thought I would put a nice rug down on the floor and it would look quite nice when I was finished.
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