Dream of: 29 September 2002 "Knocked Askew"

I was standing outside a white apartment building where my mother was living. Quite a few acquaintances of my mother were gathered in front of the building. I particularly noticed one very attractive woman (18-19 years old) who was there visiting my mother. I watched the woman (she had short brown hair) walk around for a while. I could hear her talking to some other people, and I overheard her mention how she had made love to someone. Realizing that she obviously wasn't a virgin, I became more interested in her, until finally I decided to ask her for a date, even though she was a friend of my mother's. I tried to think of what I would say, and finally I decided I would simply ask her if she wanted to go out on a date. 

I walked up to her and began talking to her. After I had talked with her a short while, however, I realized I wasn't talking to the woman, but to a black man, probably 30 centimeters taller than I. Now I was the woman and I was asking the black man if he would like to go on a date with me, even though I thought it seemed a bit odd that I would be a woman asking a black man for a date. The black man said he would like to go. I asked him if he would like to go Friday or Saturday. He suggested that we go that evening and I responded, "Ok."

I wanted to go with him, but I wondered whether I would make love with this black man. Thoughts of making love with him disconcerted me. I had never made love to a black man before. When I told him I was going to go into the house and get ready, he stepped away. 

I walked inside and went upstairs to the second floor. When I began talking with someone whom I found upstairs, I abruptly realized the black man with whom I had been talking was not the man I had intended to ask out. I had intended to ask out another black man and I had asked the wrong man! What was I going to do now? Should I go back and tell the man I had made a mistake?

Suddenly the whole room shook. I immediately realized what had happened. Some wooden posts held up the porch on the outside of the second floor. Someone must have hit one of those posts. I ran back downstairs and hurried outside, where I discovered that one of the posts had indeed been hit and knocked askew. People were pointing at a white truck pulling away from the house. The word "Lawnmower" was written in large letters on the side of the truck. When no one else did anything, I began running after the truck, which had stopped at a stop sign. I thought I could at least get the license plate number. Before I could reach the truck, however, it turned the corner, and I was unable to get the license number. I stopped, turned around, and walked back toward the other people still standing outside the apartment building. 

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