Friday, May 4, 2018

grocery store criticism; a sculpture garden of friends

Dream 1

I was standing in a grocery store. It was a huge structure with dark cinder block walls and dusty floors. It was only lit by natural light, which was kind of orange, like the sun was low in the sky.

The grocery store may have been flooded out. I may have stood in the grocery store while it had been flooded. I may have been a little surprised by how back the grocery store looked. Everything was in disarray. There were no shelves for the food. Everything was just piled up. But I may have told myself this was just because of the flood.

But now the flood was gone. People were working on getting the grocery store back to normal. In fact, the grocery store was just about to reopen.

I was walking around, looking at the store. I was surprised by how rundown it looked. The floor was just dirt in many places, though it was concrete in others.

The store was more like a factory or warehouse than a grocery store. It had a kind of L or maybe U shape. And one side was like it was divided into cinder-block rooms, like different large storage rooms, at the end of which may have been a big, wide opening to the outside.

A woman, maybe Hispanic, came up to me and asked me what I thought of the store. We started walking back toward the front of the store.

I wanted to give the woman a somewhat honest opinion. This place didn't look like a grocery store at all to me. But I also didn't want to make the woman feel bad about the place -- especially if it was about to reopen. I decided to stick to the stuff I liked and try and sound as objective as possible about that stuff.

We stood out near the front of the store, right at the corner of the L or U. We were looking toward the doors into the grocery store, which were like automated swinging glass doors. Workers were coming in and out of the doors. They were also going around the doors, like the front of the store continued beyond the entrance, like the entrance was just inset into the store about halfway along the front of the store.

I commented on how I liked the space at the front of the store. I said the place felt spacious. I said that was a good feel for a grocery store, as most grocery stores are pretty wide and open. I was trying to say -- though I couldn't find a nice way to say it -- that I couldn't quite understand why the store wasn't just a big, open square like most grocery stores.

I then said that I liked the floors in this part of the store. They were made of concrete. But they could probably use a little bit of sweeping before the store opened. I may have made a mental note to myself to avoid reviewing any of the places where the floor was dirt. But I couldn't remember where those places were. The front of the store itself may have had dirt floors before. But now the floors were concrete.

I may now also have wondered where all the products were. There was nothing in the front area. The space was completely empty, except maybe some kind of plyboard leaning against the wall and a bit of construction clutter next to that.

Dream 2

I may have been at a party for some art community, maybe the Denver art community. It was getting toward early morning. A lot of people were leaving. The party had been outside. The party had possibly been big, with a lot of people, many of whom were now filing away.

Among the people, I saw my friend LN, who is the owner of a Denver art gallery. I had kind of stopped being friends with her about a year ago. I shyly called out to LN. I was happy to see her. But I was a little afraid she'd be mad at me and wouldn't want to talk to me.

LN seemed happy to see me, but in a subdued sort of way. I was so relieved that she wasn't mad at me that I hugged her tightly and told her how much I missed her. I hugged her kind of awkwardly, from the side, though with both arms. And while I hugged her we kept walking forward.

LN wore a kind of tight shirt, more like a bodysuit with jeans over it. The top was kind of pink-beige, with a soft but ridged or ribbed feeling to it. And the chest was lacy, like a bra had been built into it. I may have reflected that LN would usually not wear an outfit like that.

We were almost totally alone now. We were walking down a sidewalk on a slope that may have been bordered by a park or field on our right. A couple of party stragglers may have been walking near us. But soon even they were gone. The edge of the horizon may have been getting a tiny bit lighter with morning.

LN and I turned off the sidewalk and into the field. I don't think I ever let go of LN. I may have been talking to her about how bad I felt about not talking to her and about how I really did like her. But at some point she may have said that we needed to hurry on our walk. Apparently we needed to get across this field within some time frame -- either before the sun rose, or before some bus we were trying to catch reached a stop on the other end of the field.

We were moving through a field of tan, waist-high grass. We passed a lone tree with no leafs. After this it may have been like LN picked me up and ran with me in her arms. But it wasn't like she was carrying me in her arms. It was more like she was embracing me and arching her back a bit so my feet were a couple inches off the ground.

We sped through the field. I suddenly realized this field had been turned into a garden of abstract or conceptual sculpture. One sculpture was an abstract shape made out of mirror-like chrome. Another sculpture (or the same sculpture?) may have had bright neon or LED lights on it. I may have felt like LN and I had purposely come to this field so we could review the sculpture garden.



We headed up a slope near the end of the field. At this point I was carrying LN. It was like she was tired or maybe even sick. I may have been carrying LN in my arms. But we still sped along -- almost like we were floating rather than running.

It was pretty light now, maybe way past sunrise. We made it to the bus stop. A young guy may have been heading toward the bus stop, too.

LN and I were now in some room, a kind of small room, maybe with cheap, fake-wood-paneled walls, at the very back end of some sort of makeshift office building. We may have been sitting at some really low, circular table, in chairs that were probably too big for this small room. Our belongings, like coats, bags, etc., may have been cluttered all over the room.

LN stood up and said she had to go into a meeting now, and that it had been nice to see me. We were now not quite in the same room we had been in before. There was a glass door into another room.

A young man who was probably famous in town as a rapper or poet walked into the room beyond the glass door. LN was scheduled to interview the man, probably for some project they were hoping to collaborate on. Both LN and the man wanted to impress each other, as they were both hoping for success from this project. But LN probably wanted to impress the man more than he wanted to impress her.

But when I saw the young man, I was really excited. I poked my head into the room as LN walked in and said hello to the man. I said hello to the man. I may also have said something about how I thought it was cool he was working with LN.

At the same time another young man walked into the room, probably from an entrance directly from outside, on the left wall of the room. The first man may have been Hispanic. The second man was black. I also recognized him as a rapper or poet from around town. I also said I was really excited to see that he was working with LN.

The first man may have recognized me a tiny bit from around town. He seemed to be a bit more relaxed now that I said I was happy to see him. He said something to me and then closed the door to start the interview with LN.

I stood (maybe even sat? like a pet dog?) out in front of the door for a second. I gloated a little to myself that one advantage I had over LN was that I actually knew the artists around town in human terms. I didn't think of them as business propositions. And that always made people feel more comfortable.

I walked back into the small room LN and I had been in. I knew the men would think it weird if they found me outside the door. They were here to interview with LN. And it would be awkward if I kept putting my nose in their business. Anyway, it was getting to be time for me to leave.

I picked up my belongings and was getting ready to leave. Now LN was in the room. She was also picking up her belongings. She was apparently getting ready to leave, too. But it was also like she still had to continue her interview with the young men.

LN spoke to me a bit about some money troubles she was having. It was like she and her husband were barely scraping by for a living. They were even worried about getting kicked out of their place. In fact, they may have gotten kicked out of the place they'd been in when I'd last spoken with LN. They may now have been living in some non-residential space that some friends had let them stay in. They may even have been living in this space. LN may even have been preparing her bedding so she could get some sleep.

I thought back to all the reasons I'd been angry at LN. And I started feeling really guilty. After all, it wasn't really worth it to be mad at her. She liked me. I knew that. And, yes, she was sort of stuck up sometimes. But, really, that was just part of her act. At the end of the day, her reality was this. She was trying to build up young artists' careers. And while she was doing this, she was basically making no money at all.

LN led a hard and frustrating life. And wouldn't it be better of me, I thought, if I could stop being so hard on her and just play her game, let her act her act, and let her feel good about herself for a change?

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