Thursday, December 18, 2008

Dream: Steamed Soda

I'm outside with some male coworkers in a dry, concrete canal. One guy is thirsty, so another guy tells him where he can get steamed soda. They walk away, and I follow because steamed soda sounds to me like euphemism for water, and I would like some, too.

We arrive at a store front that's raised about four feet. I can see two people inside. The guy who led us to the store gives instructions to the thirsty guy on how to order. It's almost like a drug deal, where one wrong comment can spook the guy off. He says to the thirsty guy to tell the guy in the store that he doesn't want ______.

The store keeper is an Indian or Pakistani. He asks us what we want. The thirsty guy orders. Then the storekeeper asks if he wants ______, to which he says No, as instructed. This entire transaction is taking place in front of a loose door -- a door that is not hung on hinges. I wonder how we will get inside.

Somehow, the thirsty guy enters the loose door. It's as if he became flattened and then slipped into a mail slot. I realize that he's gone for good. He won't come back.

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