Dream of:29 March 2011 "Mindless Activity"
I had been staying with my father and my mother (both in their early 40s) in the Summerdale Drive House, which they owned. Living with them was unusual for me, but I was fairly comfortable there and I thought I might stay for a while. I calculated that I saved money on the utilities. If I lived alone, my water bill and electric bill together came to about $150 and when I added the gas bill, the total was about $200. So I was saving money by not having to pay bills. I knew that my father was out that morning paying all his bills and I thought perhaps I should thank him when he returned. Perhaps I should even chip in a little bit.
Mainly I liked living there because I didn't have to work and I had time to devote to my writing. I knew I needed to concentrate on writing because I was getting older and I didn't have a lot of time left.
While in the big front living room, I looked out the front window and saw a bustle of activity in two houses across the street. Obviously a party was taking place and dozens of people were swirling around outside in the lawns. I watched for a while. Most of the people were women (probably in their early 40s). They were all well dressed in conservative bourgeois attire. None of them appealed to me. They were all typical middle class suburban women actively engaged in their mindless activity.
My mother walked into the room. She seemed to be cleaning. She picked up a couple pop cans and I also picked up one. After she walked back out, I also picked up a piece of gold jewelry. I followed her back to the computer room and gave the jewelry to her. She seemed happy to receive it and she said she had been looking for it. When she asked where I had found it, I told her it had been lying on the counter in the other room.
I lay down for a moment on my back on the carpeted floor, but I didn't stay there long. I didn't want to be lying there doing nothing when my father returned home. I knew I needed to be writing. I had never succeeded at my life-long goal of being a successful writer and my lack of success had left me with a constant dull ache which bordered on despair.
I followed my mother to the back bedroom and she sat on the bed. It was Saturday morning. I said something about it being unusual for my father to have left the House on Saturday. My mother agreed, but she added that he would be back soon and that he would want to start kissing her. I interpreted her words to mean that he would want to have sex with her. I didn't want to talk about that.
I looked out the bedroom window and saw more cars parked across the street. I commented to my mother that all the cars were in good condition. I even had the feeling that most of the people were somehow involved in racing cars. More men had showed up. They looked energetic, as if they were the type who were always busy working on something.
One car containing four men had even pulled up in our driveway. It looked as if they were just turning around. Four more impressive-looking cars had pulled up across the street. One vehicle, however, was not so impressive. I was an old black truck which didn't even have any wheels. Several men were working on moving truck. I realized that they planned to refurbish the truck. They were certainly concentrated on their little project.
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