Good morning, everybody.
It was night. I was up in some apartment on the second or third floor of an oldish, Village-style, brick apartment.I was in a bedroom. Everybody else was in some other room. The bedroom was cluttered and little with a bright, but kind of pale, incandescdent light.
The apartment wasn't mine. I may have been here because of a party that was going on, though the party may not have been happening right then. I may also have been here because I was going to watch the place for the people who lived here, though they weren't gone yet.
I was looking at myself in a mirror. I saw that I was wearing a Pampers Baby Dry diaper. I was planning to go downstairs and out to some grocery store or music store (or a grocery/music store?) that was right near the apartment building.
I wanted to go down there wearing my diapers. But I wanted to make sure they were visible, so that everybody I walked by knew I was wearing diapers. I may have hoped that somebody would be turned on by my wearing diapers and want to hit on me.
I grabbed a pair of very low rise blue jeans from somewhere. I put them on and looked at how the waistband of the diapers flapped over the waistline of the jeans. I looked at the Sesame Street character on the waistband.
The waistband seemed to flop down a bit too much. I was also worried that once I actually got walking around, the waistline of the jeans would snug up around the waistband of the diapers, obscuring the diapers. I really wanted people to see me in my diapers! I wondered whether I couldn't just go down to the store wearing only my t-shirt and diapers.
I looked out the window. The neighborhood was busy with young people who were out having fun. But across the street from me, standing next to a gate like the gate around St. Mark's Church in the Village, were two kind of scuzzy-looking men. They looked like they could either be forty-five or twenty-five. One was white, the other Hispanic. They wore cheap clothes.
I knew these men were actually stalking me. I knew they'd been waiting for me all this time. If I went downstairs while they were down there, they'd follow me all over the place. I didn't mind other people seeing me in diapers. But I didn't want these men to see me in diapers. And I really didn't want them following me around. I tried to think of how to avoid the men.
My brain must have skipped over this problem entirely. I was now down in the grocery/record store. I walked around, having a little fun feeling myself in a diaper. I remember wondering about the back of my diaper, wondering whether that wasn't also visible, wondering whether I couldn't do anything to make it more visible.
The store was as large as a regular grocery store. But it had a kind of old, run-down feel to it, like an old Chinese vegetable store. The light was dingy fluorescent. The linoleum floors were coated in a patina of eternal dust. There were wood-crate like stands everywhere, holding merchandise. Toward the right side of the store were rows and rows of record or CD stands.
I must have bought something. I now stood before the cashier, whose counter was higher than my head. I had to reach up to hand the cashier my money. The cashier was a blonde girl, kind of short and young-looking, with slightly tanned skin, pale, blue eyes, and frizzy-wavy hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a faded, purple or blue t-shirt.
It was a hot, summer day. I had just walked away from some big outdoor event I'd been attending. The event may have been a parade or a fair. The event had probably been held to benefit people with some sort of physical problem. I felt like I had had fun and been able to support a good cause.
But now some black man began chasing after me. He was tall, very skinny, and very dark, also really sweaty or greasy. He wore really dark, but reflective, sunglasses. He was trying to bamboozle me into giving him money. But I barely had any money myself.
The man wouldn't leave me alone. I began running away from him. But apparently I had no left leg. I began hopping on my right leg, as fast as I could, to get away from the man. My hops became huge leaps. I was almost floating through the air between hops. I even seemed to be accelerating.
But the man was still behind me. I had gotten out of the busy part of town and was now on some sun-yellow, concrete-and-dust outskirts of the downtown area. I saw a grocery store off to my right. I thought if I went into that place, I'd be protected from the man. Out on the street, anybody could bother anybody. But in a store, you had to obey the store's rules.
I also thought I might have been able to evade the man by hiding in the store. But the man was still close enough to see where I was heading. He had gotten onto a bike, which he was now peddling with only his right leg. He, now, apparently, had only his right leg, while I had both my legs. I wondered how someone could possibly pedal with only one leg.
I went into the store through a set of automatic doors. The store was really old-looking and run-down. It looked like barely anybody ever came here. Everything looked kind of stale. There were no lights on, but plenty of dim natural light, green as a hard-boiled egg yolk's skin, came in through the front window.
I saw the man run into the store. Somehow I acted like I was walking through the store, looking for stuff to buy. But as soon as I saw that I'd gotten the man to walk far back into the store, so that I was out of his line of sight, I ran out of the store.
I turned around the right corner of the store and ran up the sidewalk, to a pedestrian bridge that ran over some wide road. I was pretty sure I had now evaded the man.
But now I was having thoughts of some conversation with my mom. The conversation got so heavy that I stopped running about halfway along the chain-link-fence-domed bridge. I began fumbling with something, maybe an electronic device, while I looked down and continued the imaginary conversation with my mother.