Dream Report Number One

Place to place, sort of lost, I wandered in a small oldish town.

It was a familiar labyrinth with much to see, small as it was.

The density was stimulating though, at each location of interest, I found there was not a place for me.

An exotic car, a Bugatti I'm sure, passed. Wrapping around a bend on the brick-laden street.

Now parked in a stone lot I stood beside that beautiful machine but that was all.

The lot was for a restaurant. Fancier than any restaurant I've dined at.

I did go inside, not for long. The place was not for me.

The other places I do not quite recall but they weren't for me either. Until, I do recall, the penultimate destination, a small shop or gathering place.

There was lots of glass and it was cramped but not uncomfortable. Also not for me.

I did not interact with those inside the shop and do not believe I was perceived.

I exited, not the way I came in, but through the rear. I think it was a window but it was not strange for me to exit that way.

Through now I found myself in a stamp of grass, the sky was dark. I'm not sure how dark it was before, perhaps just before dusk. Warm light beckoned from the other places I had been.

There was a stone wall, I leapt over.

Still in the grass below the shop was the exposed wall of a subterranean level. It was not a basement, I would not use that word.

I get the sense I was trying to leave at this point but was stopped by this final attraction:

the exposed wall was bisected by an appropriately-sized glass door. A double door. I again felt that it could've been a window instead. It was open.

On either side were billowing flowy curtains revealing an unfelt breeze.

Something was different about this place because I did not move on, rather I leaned on one wooden side of the door's frame, the left, and was absorbed.

Inside there was a woman with perhaps 6 children, various ages. All were talking, not like children but not quite like adults. Akin to an intellectual salon, the woman a guide for socratic discussion of a child's perspective on whatever world this was. I was drawn to the openness.

And I was drawn to the coziness. I was compelled not only to stay but to speak.

I told the woman and the children heard too that I found this little scene quite lovely, trying not to sound like I hoped to be invited in, though I did.

They did invite me though or at least the woman did and the children were happy to have another queryable adult.

But then I learned I had a phone in my pocket when it loudly and terribly dinged, antithetic to this space I found.

One of the children, a girl lounging comfortably on the floor, looked at me disapprovingly and asked the woman to ask me to turn it off. I felt myself reaching into my pocket to silence the device before she finished, sharing the feeling with this girl and hating the sound of it.

I remained in the door. We discussed various subjects me and the children. The woman stayed silent and let the children lead.

The subject I do recall was a boy standing on the opposite side of the room from me, about 13 years old, discussing his investments in cryptocurrency. Perhaps it was due to my own ill-fated fascination with the subject years ago that I asked why not invest in something less speculative (I did not question that a child was investing at all). The boy was defensive but debated well and in jest.

I was not ready to leave but had found a lull to check the phone in my pocket. I intended to notify my partner where I was to avoid worry or suspicion but instead

I woke up.