Posted by: normanlgreen | December 26, 2011

Dream, December 26, 2011 pools of gypsies

Dream, home, 7:00 am

I arrive at conference to be held in an older resort hotel. The building used to be a cruise ship that has been cemented into the ground at its natural water level. My wife and youngest son accompany me to an outbuilding, a bunk house built on a little hill a hundred yards from the main complex. There we encounter several other conferees, all of whom wonder when thing will start to get organized. Sherwin notices that there is no food prepared for those arriving, so she talks a few people into helping her to prepare. I circulate to round up ingredients. Ray searches in the bunk house for a cigarette. I spotted a package while looking for dinner makings. I open a drawer and find a dark package, somewhat bent. Opening its lid I see that the smoker has extinguished cigarettes at various lengths and returned them to the pack. I pick through the butts until I find one nearly of full length and reasonably straight. I give the smoke to Ray.

Outside, the cooking group has pans sizzling and pots boiling on a variety of grills and open fires. I drift over to the main building, the grounded cruise ship. Keaton follows me.

The building is oriented imperfectly to North and South. I enter from the North end. Inside there are two crowds: one is the boisterous and eccentric conferees with whom we are associated; the other is a group of Romany Gypsies, a handsome and fit-looking crowd who center around a swimming pool in the central court of the Northern end of the resort.

Inside, it feels like a combination between the cruise ship from which it was fashioned, a football stadium with high sides composed of the guests’ rooms, and a classical amphitheater for the main speakers of the conference. The amphitheater portion dominates, taking two-thirds of the courtyard it shares with the swimming pool. Keaton splits off from me, having spotted people he knows who are seated on the Eastern edge of the amphitheater. Though it was late afternoon when we were outside of the building, the sun stands straight overhead.

I decide to save a few steps and cut through the swimming pool that is full of the Gypsies. Their beautiful dark eyes lock onto me with mistrust as I wade between them. I approach the edge to find that several of their brawny men line the coping. None of them move to clear a way for me. They neither speak to me nor to each other as I step into the tiny gap between two of these men.

A narrow deck surrounds the pool. Just past this walkway, a thin line of bushes divides this pool from the amphitheater area. I step between the shrubs to find another smaller pool, which is unoccupied. One of the Romany women stands at the edge of this second pool in a cotton print dress. She faces Northward, observing her group in their pool.  Her long black hair blows around her. As I step down onto the first step leading into the water, I lift the woman by her hips. I step down into the waist-deep water, without lowering the woman into the pool. I set her once again, dry, upon the coping. She laughs at the joke, smiles at me then returns her attention to her people.


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