Posted by: normanlgreen | October 4, 2012

Dream, October 4, 2012 Republic of Spa


Dream, home, 5:16 am

As I have done him some favor, Stephen takes me to a spa.  Once I am lead to a swiveling barber chair, he disappears.

I fear I am not clean enough – concerned that the woman who works with me will be offended. Strange treatments. A technician cleans my nostrils with diluted orange tincture squirted into my head with an aerator with a long hose. My nose starts to run and the attendant released the rubber bulb, sucking away the thin mucus as one would use an aspirator bulb to clear the nose of a newborn baby.

While I close my eyes, they change my position relative to the floor, so that when I open them, I cannot tell which direction is up. A glass with a thick drink is being fed to me through a straw. I look down into the glass, but feel gravity pulling at the back of my head. The drink should pour out onto me, but does not.

I am set upright and my chair is swiveled to look toward the lobby. Three elderly couples have been divided, men to one couch, women to the other. The men joke, lolling about on their divan as though models at a sexy photo shoot. “We’re going to the spa-a-a-a-a” they croon. The largest man removes his shirt to reveal layers of fat covered in colorful tattoos. The men realize that they are making fools of themselves – they settle into an embarrassed silence. Their wives, near but separate, sit with dignity. I go outside to a sunken courtyard where there will be a floor show and a foot race. The garden has been formed in the former basement of a demolished building. I can almost see above the crowds in the bleachers that line the cement walls. I sense streets activity above, but know that this space has been declared an independent nation. I must choose if I am to remain, but to leave requires escape – no one walks away.

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