Friday, May 11, 2018

Dream journal: The recording session

So. I had a dream, and want to write it down before I forget it.

The dream started off very much like today. My sister was in town, and was taking my mom to a medical appointment. (I actually took today off months ago for this appointment, but since she came in for Mothers' Day, it's become a bit of a free day for me.) I was waiting at the house for the insurance adjuster to look at our broken window (which was the Plan B for today, but my presence has since become unnecessary, and I expect the visit will consist of him looking at the window and saying "Yep, it's broke.") While waiting for the adjuster, I decided to go for a walk - through the back alleys of downtown Scranton, thirty miles away.

My walk was in the general vicinity of what used to be the Steamtown Mall, now the Steamtown Marketplace. I walked past an imaginary soup store, a chain restaurant not unlike the chain called "The Original Soupman" (which once had a location in Scranton at 344 Adams Avenue, the current location of Eden: A Vegan Cafe and quite close to the old location of the long-closed video rental company specializing in foreign and art films known as the Home Film Festival). It was crowded with customers. Farther down the alley, around a corner, was a smaller, local soup restaurant with a far better reputation and far fewer customers. (The location reminded me of the bizarre mid-block location of Adezzo, the Scranton coffee shop where I frequently attend open mic nights, accessible only through an alley or through the parking lot of another business.)

My walk eventually took me to a large library located in the Steamtown Mall/Steamtown Marketplace. I walked in looking (as I always do in real life) for the books-for-sale section, where gently used copies of many rare and excellent books are available for pocket change. I was spotted and greeted by David Bauman, an actual librarian (and poet, birder, father, and blogger) in the Luzerne County library system. (Scranton is in Lackawanna County.) He pulled me aside and asked for my help with a recording session. It would only take a few minutes, and one of the readers had not shown up, but everyone else was there.

I stepped into a small room off a hallway, and several people - two, I think - were sitting at a table with microphones, including Liz Lewis, a local poet I have read with many times. David and I joined them and I was handed a copy of what we would be reading. It was a short play - five pages, I think - from an old and slim paperback. (My copy was falling apart, and I had to make sure the pages were in order.) The play involved several male characters and one female character, though Liz would also be reading a male character who made a cameo at the end. The play - Dave tried to explain it as I skimmed it - apparently involved a Jewish pioneer family living on the Great Plains in the mid-19th century.

...and that's where it ended. You generally only remember dreams when you wake up during them so that's where this one cut off. But I wanted to write it down before I forgot it.

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