Dream of: 28 March 2004 (2) "Dilapidated House"

I had bought a two-story frame house in Portsmouth, on the corner of a street, about a block west of Grandview Avenue. I had already moved into the house and had transferred most of my things from the 29th Street House (where the things had been stored) to the new house. The house was run-down inside and would require extensive work.

I invited Anderson over and he and I proceeded to drink a six-pack of beer and smoke some marijuana. I put the marijuana in a pipe which contained some white rocky substance and I smashed the marijuana down into the substance. After I had done so, I realized I should have taken out the white substance before adding the marijuana. We smoked it anyway. I was having a good time, but I seemed to become a little too intoxicated a little too fast. I walked upstairs to the bedroom, lay down on my back across the bed, and passed out.

When I groggily regained my senses, a new day had dawned. I heard someone shut a door downstairs and I apprehensively realized a woman who was my mother (not my actual mother) had returned home. She clambered around downstairs and finally mounted the stairs to my bedroom and walked in. She had black hair and was only about 30 years old. Slender and attractive, she walked over and sat next to me on the bed.

I felt aroused by her presence. I wondered what it would feel like if she were to slip her hand inside my pants. My main concern however, was the condition of the house. I had gone to sleep without cleaning up, and I worried that beer bottles and evidence of the marijuana were downstairs -- she had probably already seen them. I quickly stood up from the bed and walked out into the hall. Anderson was lying asleep under the blankets on a bed in an adjoining room. I headed downstairs and my mother followed.

Several green beer bottles were sitting around the room. Anderson and I had only drunk a six pack, so the situation wasn't a disaster. I didn't see any evidence of marijuana, so at least I probably didn't have a problem with that. I mumbled something about Anderson and me having drunk a few beers as I picked up the bottles. My mother sat on the couch and seemed concerned, although not irate.

Once I had cleaned away the bottles, I began perusing the room, contemplating the work I would have to do there. Dark rafters which would probably need painted ran across the ceiling. Old maroon flowery wallpaper hung loose from the walls. I might have to re-wallpaper the entire room. I had never done any wallpapering and I was uncertain of the intricacies. I would probably start in one corner and work my way across one wall.

I was also concerned about the security of the house. This neighborhood had deteriorated. I wanted secure locks on the door. I might even have to replace all the doors. I might, however, open the blinds and curtains to the living room so people could see in. If I left a light on in this room at night, and the windows were open, burglars might be dissuaded from entering for fear of being seen.

The living room door was open to the outside, and several dogs had entered and were running around the room. One was a large dark-brown dog which I identified as a Rottweiler. It looked ferocious, but when I stuck out my hand, it came to me and allowed me to pet it. It finally trotted back outside.

I was a bit surprised when my brother Chris (about 14 years old) rolled up to me in his wheelchair and told me it was time for him to be taken out. I recalled that I normally took Chris for a walk every day, but I hadn't taken him today. I hesitated, then decided to take him right now. I moved around behind him and pushed him out onto the sidewalk.

As I pushed him down the street,  I wondered if I might be able to smoke some marijuana out there as I walked along. Other people were walking along the sidewalk, but I doubted they would notice my smoking. I stopped the wheelchair for moment and bent over to my shoe laces. The laces seemed made of copper wire, but I knew they were actually marijuana. If I manipulated them a certain way, I would be able to smoke them. I began twisting and turning the marijuana shoe laces, still uncertain whether smoking out there on the sidewalk was a wise idea.

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