Dream of: 01 September 2003 "Cracked Owl"
The room was dark and cluttered – my possessions were stacked on shelves and tables. Carolina and my mother were in the background, moving here and there. My attention was focused on the object in my hand, a plaster statue of a colorfully-painted owl which stood about a half meter tall.
I set the owl on the table in front of me and minutely examine it – the base was cracked. I was sorry to see it. I was fond of the owl – it was somewhat valuable. I could probably repair it; of course its value would be lessened considerably by the crack, but if I did an adequate job, the owl should still be presentable. I fetched a bottle of white viscous glue and began applying it to the base. I showed my mother how I needed to be careful to only glue together parts which were broken (the base was quite intricate and seemed to even have hinges on it; I had to be careful not to glue any parts which were supposed to move).
I was in a bit of a hurry and only intended to complete part of the job now. In as short while my mother, Carolina and I were going to go on a trip with my father. He had earlier appeared at the front door and invited us to accompany him to northern Ohio, near the Great Lakes. Normally I wasn't enthusiastic about accompanying him on such trips; but today I had been in the mood and I was expectantly looking forward to the trip.
When I had finished with the owl, I turned my attention to a new stereo system which I had recently purchased. I had already taken the black stereo receiver out of the brown cardboard box. Now, however, I decided to put the receiver back in the box and actually glue the receiver to the inside of the box. I brushed some of the white glue along one edge of the bottom of the receiver and then began fitting the receiver back into the box. I even set the receiver on some metal pins which had been in the box to hold the receiver in place. Only when I had finished did I begin to question the wisdom of what I had done. I still had to stick the speakers in the box – maybe everything wouldn't work well in the box. I had originally thought that having the stereo in the box would allow me to handle it more easily; but now I began to doubt.
I was in a hurry. I still needed to do something outside before we left. I went to the front door and stepped outside. I was on Second Street in Portsmouth, close to Market Street. This was where I lived, in this building which abutted the sidewalk. I stepped onto the sidewalk and began walking east on Second Street, in the area where so many antique stores had been set up. I had always liked this section of Portsmouth, which had been the downtown area in the early 1900s and which had decayed over the century.
I stopped in front of the old Washington Hotel, that once resplendent building which had been left to deteriorate. I was surprised to find that the front of the building had been opened up, like a garage door, so I could see inside. I stood staring. There was the lobby and beyond that must be the ballroom. Many old wooden rocking chairs where cluttered in the lobby as well as numerous other hard-backed chairs. I hadn't seen the interior of this building in many years.
But I needed to hurry, my father and the others would be waiting. I turned and headed back toward my place.
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