Tuesday, November 04, 2003

...to dream, Ah, that's the rub

I'm at some sort of party, with long cheap banquet tables set around with chairs, all on a stage. People I know -- people from my life and various celebrities -- are being seated all around. There's a sudden need to rearrange the tables and the one in front of me is collapsed and moved, but I stay seated. Peole mill around me in conversation. One group starts singing snatches of song from musicals (Showboat, in particular, I think). I get up and follow a few people to where they are sitting in a group, waiting for the tables to be replaced.

No one will look at me. Any conversation I try to start is ignored. If I sit somewhere, everyone's back is turned to me. At some point I find a place against a wall, crouching on the floor. One of my highschool boyfriends, a guy whom I've seen once or twice since then and who still has a soft spot in my heart, notices me as he passes by heading to his place at the table, and he gives me a weak little smile. He looks much older now and he seems slightly embarrassed, like he has committed a faux pas in making eye contact.

Then the tables are set with an open area in the middle and a sort of gaming court set up. Two teams are throwing tiny water balloons at each other. The balloons are unusually resiliant, and when thrown on the ground will bounce 15 or 20 feet in the air before coming down and exploding. If you are directly hit, you are "out" and someone else from the crowd replaces you. Of course, despite my being right next to the court, I am not allowed to join the game. I still get very wet because I am near people who are hit.

I woke up feeling completely unwilling to speak. I'm still not feeling chatty, except to ponder this dream and the weird feeling of isolation left over from it. No agony or particular sharp fear, no anger, no sensation of loss. Just the weird embarrassment of being somewhere I'm not wanted, of having no where else to go and no way to get elsewhere.

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