Dream of: 25 July 1997 "Moving To New York"
I was in the process of moving to New York City. I had moved a few things into the apartment of a woman friend (about 40 years old) living in New York. I was only going to keep my things there a few days until I found an apartment of my own. My friend and I went to the apartment of another woman who lived next door. The neighbor woman was about the same age as my friend. I noticed how much nicer this second apartment seemed. The neighbor woman had several guests in the apartment. The neighbor woman began talking about how she didn't like the apartment. She complained about how it was too small. But it looked nice enough to me. She said it only had four rooms, but I counted five. I also thought that she had decorated the apartment quite nicely with light and cheery furnishings. I would mind living here. I sat down on a couch and remained quite. Some other people in the room were talking and I began thinking that now that I was in New York I needed to come out of my shell more and begin mingling with people. I heard a young fellow over in the corner speaking in German. His German sounded quite good and I thought it was probably a common practice for people here to simply speak another language if they felt like it. I was accustomed to speaking English all the time, but I could also speak German. However, it still seemed a bit pretentious to simply start speaking another language like that. But if other people did it, I might also join in. Finally someone said something to me, implying that I had given something to someone, and I stood up and said. "Ich habe nichts gegeben." I hesitated for just an instant when I said the word "gegeben", having to reflect on what the past participle of "geben" was. But I was quite satisfied wit the way I had spoken. However, I didn't even look at the young man who had been speaking German, and I walked straight into the next room.
There I found several men sitting around a large dining table. Perhaps seven or eight people were at the table, but three of them in particular caught my attention because each had a stack of 45 RPM records in front of him. One of the three was standing up. It was quickly apparent that all three men had in interest in the records and that the had gotten together to compare their collections. I noticed many records had their covers and appeared to be in excellent shape. Some records, however, weren't in covers and one man was carelessly letting the records rub against each other. I thought his carelessness would damage the records, but then I thought that in the case of 45s, the rubbing probably made little difference.
I also had quiet a large collection of 45 RPM records and if I were living here, I might be able to meet some people like this. People in New York would tend to have better collections than people elsewhere because people were more knowledgeable here.
Finally I sat back down in an easy chair in the dining room and began talking to the neighbor woman who lived here. From our conversation I concluded that she had been married but that her husband was deceased. When I asked what he had done for a living I quickly realized I had made a faux pas by the way some people in the room looked at me. The woman mentioned the name of the place where her husband had worked and I realized he must have worked for a funeral parlor. It seemed like such a macabre occupation to me and I said no more about it.
When it was finally time to leave, the woman with whom I had come and I left and went back to her apartment. Once we were back in her apartment, she complained about how drab her apartment was. I had to agree with her that it was much more obscure than her neighbor's. But I couldn't figure out exactly why. The furniture was all very nice. It was made of heavy dark wood and might even be antique. The wallpaper on the wall was a rosy color and lively enough. But there was no denying that this apartment didn't have nearly the cheery atmosphere of the apartment next door.
I was however mostly preoccupied with my own situation. I still needed to find my own apartment and move my things from this apartment. I went into the dining room where I had left some of my things. To my chagrin I saw that it appeared that some water had leaked in on the floor. This concerned me because I had several stacks of magazines which I had brought with me and stacked up on the floor. I picked up a couple stacks and saw that the bottom magazine on each stack was wet. I tried to brush off the water but the damage was obviously permanent. I wasn't terribly bothered because the magazines weren't worth much anyway. Still, I wished it hadn't happened.
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