Dream of: 27 July 2001 "Separated"

I had been sleeping on the floor of a small room in a college which resembled Shawnee State University. When I awoke, I stood up, picked up my blanket and made my way to a student lounge in the building. I was concerned about arriving late at a class; but I was also concerned because I hadn't yet paid my tuition. I was relieved when a black woman in the lounge told me the tuition wasn't due until Thursday, several days away.

Since I thought I would be late if I arrived at class now, I decided to simply find out what the lesson was and come back to class tomorrow. So I laid down my blanket, left it in the lounge and walked outside.

I was happy when I found my old friend Steve Weinstein (probably in his late 40s) out front. He appeared in good shape and had aged well. He appeared quieter and more reserved than I remembered him. He was also enrolled in the college; we would be taking a math class together. I wondered if we might even end up living together. I enjoyed his company, but I was somewhat concerned about his being gay, because people might think I was gay if I lived with him. Of course, I didn't care that much what people thought.

We headed toward the place where I had left my car. As we chatted, I asked him if he smoked marijuana anymore. He said, "Not enough." I told him that I was the same way, that I hadn't smoked any pot for a long time, but that I would like to. He began telling me a story about a game in which people smoked pot continuously while slogging through a river of mud to reach some goal. His story was so vivid, I could actually see images of people trying to crawl and swim through mud.

As we continued walking, I realized we were actually in Dallas, near the downtown area. Dallas was small in comparison to Weinstein's hometown of New York City; nevertheless, Dallas was still one of the biggest cities in the country and had much to offer. For instance, the modern skyscrapers which surrounded us here were quite beautiful.

Soon we reached Weinstein's impressive black car; we both boarded and he began driving. I asked Weinstein if his parents had given him the car; he said they had. They were also supplying him money on which to live.

As we wound through the narrow streets, and even passed through a tunnel, I realized we were in Cincinnati. The buildings were no longer modern and shining as in Dallas, but bleak and dilapidated. We needed a place to spend the night and were looking for a Holiday Inn supposedly located downtown. When we couldn't find the Holiday Inn, we finally pulled into the parking lot of a Marriott Hotel. When a bearded man sitting in the lobby behind a glass booth came out to the parking lot, we asked him where the Holiday Inn was, and he pointed to a string of new tall concrete buildings which rose above downtown. He gave us some complicated directions. I thanked him; but he almost seemed offended by my thanks. He boarded his car and left.

In the process, I lost sight of Weinstein and his car. I looked across the street and saw a strange sight: a black man walking along the second or third story ledge of a building. The man had an envelope in his hand; he reached a place along the ledge which had a slot for mail and slipped the envelope into the slot.

Then I again saw Weinstein, who now bore a strong resemblance to Nicholas Cage. Glad to see him, and concerned we might become separated again, I tried to think of a place where we should go if we became separated. We thought maybe we would go to a police station; but a police station might not work because there might be more than one police station. At least we agreed if we became separated, neither of us should leave; we should keep searching until we found each other again.

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