Good morning, everybody.
A dream about Super Mario, in the style of the original Super Mario Bros. Mario slid down some slope, probably of green grass before a yellow sky. He then slung forward, out around a long row of bricks or coins. He then slung back, as quick as a chameleon's tongue, either through the coins or up over the bricks and through a row of coins, and then headed back up the slope. There may have been another scene after this one.
I was sitting out with my mother (or perhaps my great-grandmother?) on a lawn on a sunny day. We were sitting out on a couple of lawn chairs, the long kind, with the reclining legs. The chairs were all white, with thick bands of plastic making up the backing. The lawn and the day felt a little damp, as if this were a warm day in early spring. There were probably other people out on the lawn, enjoying the day, but I wasn't really aware of them.
My mother (regardless of who was really beside me) was speaking about some condition that was kind of considered an illness that lesbians were considered to have. It had to do with either trying to seduce women who didn't like lesbians, or with trying to seduce women who were involved with men who didn't like lesbians. They didn't really like the women they were seducing. They were just compelled to seduce the women. This was considered a real, medical condition, either physical or psychological. My mom was actually worried that a group of lesbians was, right now, trying to seduce my great-grandmother in this way.
I now turned to my mother/great-grandmother, who sat to my right. If the person sitting next to me was my great-grandmother, she was probably wearing a big, round-brimmed, floppy hat and big sunglasses. I started complaining about some girl who was trying to seduce my (now ex-)girlfriend H away from me. In fact, she may already have seduced H away from me, and the two may have come out to me as lovers. H was still my friend. But the other girl just took every chance she could get to annoy me.
If the person sitting next to me was my great-grandma, she may have given me some advice. But I think that now the person sitting next to me was my mother. I really didn't want to complain about this kind of stuff to my mother. I was afraid she'd actually try to do something about it. And I really didn't want my mom involved in any of my business -- especially my romantic affairs. I felt like having my mom involved in my romantic affairs would make them like "kid stuff." And I felt like having my mom involved in my romantic affairs would let her on to my fetishes. And if she were aware of my fetishes, I would feel really creepy.
So I sat forward right away and told my mom that I already had things taken care of. I had a plan in my mind for how I would take care of the whole thing. I would just act friendly to the girl, no matter what, if I had to, and ignore the girl as completely as possible the whole rest of the time. And if I needed to confront the girl about anything else that would come up between us in day-to-day life, I'd confront her like I'd confront anybody else.
As I was saying this, the girl walked up from the far right, from far out on the lawn. She walked up behind me and pushed against the soft back of my lawn chair, nudging me up. She meant to be annoying and mean. But it felt kind of nice, especially on my back, like when a cat rubs up against you or walks on you.
The girl then sat next to me on the lawn chair. We sat rather close. I was determined to ignore the girl at all costs. But I suddenly got the idea that the girl wanted to be friendly with me now. I felt like H was coming soon. Usually the girl would take this opportunity to upset me while H wasn't around. But it seemed like this time she was just trying to be nice. There was a feeling that H wasn't going to be around, anyway, like she would eventually let us know she wouldn't be able to meet us.
I may have been reading a small, hardcover book, like an early-twentieth-century book of philosophy or science. The girl may have been reading a similar book. At some point the girl may have been the only one holding the book, while I may have been looking on. The girl may have rested her head on my shoulder. I remember seeing the girl's knee bent up. The girl was probably wearing shorts. Her leg was really skinny. The girl may have had blankets crumpled around her shins at one point, too.
The girl seemed to cuddle closer and closer to me. It seemed like she really liked me now. I kept my distance emotionally. But I was happy that the girl wasn't being mean and annoying as usual. I thought that if this was the way she'd be in general from now on, I could be pretty happy. The girl and I may have spoken about something in a happy, chatty sort of way.
I was in a bedroom. The bedroom seemed enormous somehow, but it was stark and empty. Everything about the room may have been grey. A door may have been opened to a short hallway, across which was an open door to a bathroom with bright incandescent light and yellow and tan-orange walls. Dim, grey, natural light may have filled the bedroom. The only furniture in the bedroom was one bed (or two beds?) -- really tall and really wide, but probably not soft and comfortable at all, and all grey.
I sat half on the bed with my right leg hanging off the edge. My left leg may have been hanging off a little, too: I was sitting in a strange, sideways, half-reclining/leaning position.
I was probably waiting for a phone call from my mother. There was some event I was going to go to with my mom. It was for either a few of my nephews or just my youngest nephew. I had the imagery of this event half-playing in my head throughout the rest of the dream -- as if I were already at the event I was waiting to head to, participating in the event in real time, simultaneously with my waiting in the bedroom.
The event took place in an equally stark room. The room was huge, with yellow-painted plaster walls. The event was apparently very big. But the only people visible were my little nephew and a tall, kind of old-style, butlery-looking man with oiled hair and mustache and dress clothes -- maybe a red suit jacket (?). My nephew stood before a plastic toy stove. There was no other furnishing in the room.
My mom may also have been in the room. But she may have been at such a remove, even in shadow, that her position was almost exactly the same as my point of view would have been had I been physically in the room.
Sitting on the bed in the bedroom, I started eating some weird kind of food. It was probably a breakfast food. It seemed to be fried. The coating was like lightly fried breading. The inside may have been meat, or it may have been something like eggs or eggs and meat combined, with other stuff mixed in, like vegetables. The plate I ate off of had two of these things on it: each thing about the size of a scone or a piece of fried chicken breast.
I was kind of hungry. But I had really only planned on taking a little bite out of the thing. But one bite was so good that I just wanted more. Before I knew it I had eaten almost an entire piece. The only part left of the piece I'd eaten was a little corner, which I held kind of wrinkled up in my left hand, the piece folded like a towel, like it was nothing more, really, than the fried skin.
I felt a little ashamed. Watching the scene in which my little nephew participated, I knew that what was happening there was some kind of cooking or eating event, and that I would be expected to eat there. I hadn't really understood that before. But I should have known it. But now that I'd eaten the food here in the bedroom, I knew my stomach probably wouldn't be able to handle the food at the event as well.
I had a choice -- either eat at the event, anyway, and make my body miserable, or not eat at the event and look like a snobby jerk in front of my nephew. I knew I'd probably just eat. So I did my best, even though I was really hungry now, to stop myself from eating the second piece of food. But even while I told myself to resist eating the rest of the food, I was trying to justify eating it to myself.
At the event, I now saw my little nephew's toy stove top. Something was actually frying in a blue, plastic pan. It was probably two little pieces of meat in some grease. I had actually made this meat start cooking somehow. But it wasn't actually supposed to have started cooking yet. There was a whole process to the cooking event. Now that the meat had started cooking, the whole process was ruined. Most likely, the process could also not be started over.
I felt horrible about this. I felt like there had to be a way to reverse the process I'd started. Even if there weren't a way to reverse the process, perhaps there was a way to stop the damage at its current point. Besides, I told myself, this was a play stove, anyway. Did real rules apply to play stoves? Even for cooking? Wouldn't there be a way a play stove could reverse the play cooking?
I looked all over the stove (I may have been no taller than my little nephew -- or I may actually have had no body at all!) for some button or set of buttons that would reverse the process. Eventually I found something that seemed helpful, either under the pale blue, plastic pan itself or under some edge of the stove top. There was a little square of buttons, maybe pink, plastic buttons. One of the buttons said "BACK SPACE." I knew this button, like the backspace button of a keyboard, would "erase" the mistake I had made.
In the bedroom, I now received a text message from my aunt. (Recently, in waking life, my aunt had caused a bit of a commotion in my family while my mom was recovering from a pretty serious hospital visit.) The text message was terribly emotional, written in all caps, and just crying out stuff like, "I APOLOGIZE! I APOLOGIZE!" over and over again.
I had a feeling I was going to see my aunt soon. It was like she had also been planning to attend this event with my little nephew. She may even have been planning to come pick me up so that we could both go to the event together. But I may have decided, after my aunt had caused a commotion, that I would keep a little bit of a distance from her. So now she may have been apologizing to me in order to get me to come with her to the event. Or she may have been apologizing in order to smooth things over so that, when we went to the event together as planned, there wouldn't be any tension between us.
I didn't feel like my aunt needed to be so intense about her apology, though. I wondered whether it had been my own severe personality that had made her feel like she needed to be so intense. I told myself that in the future, even starting right now, I needed to project a more relaxed, less severe attitude to people.
At this point I may also have gotten a text message from my aunt's youngest daughter, with whom I haven't spoken in a number of years.