we are in the street, people get shot. we are running, trying to hide behind bodies and get out of there as fast as we can. the street is crowded with people, some just watching the shooting, some trying to get away. we hop on our bikes, me and 3 others, josh is in the lead. we're tearing down sidewalks in the ghetto, trying to get out of the ghetto. i yell 'turn left!' directing the group down what i think is a shorter path. josh doesn't hear me, and continues down the street, taking a left one block down. as we pass perpendicular streets i'm looking for him, red jacket flowing behind him as he rides. i'm trying to yell to him so he sees us and doesn't get lost from the group.. we're still in the ghetto. white vinyl-siding shotgun houses rotting on the block.
we get home, and once again it's my apartment, but different. a disoriented dreamapartment. i walk to my bedroom and out onto the balcony, feeling what's about to happen. in the dark i turn to the right, and he is sitting there. the maintenance man who came to work on the studio room earlier. i ask him what he's doing still here. the feeling is that he has a crush on me, had tried to call me while i was away. it's certainly odd that he knew i was there in the house but did not come greet me, just sat in the dark creepily until i discovered him.
back to the bedroom, josh is there now, in the chair where the papasan is in the real dream. i feel relieved now, hopefully by introducing him as my 'boyfriend' i can get this hispanic, dark haired, dark skinned young skinny maintenance man to leave.
i see my bedroom has been rearranged - i can no longer use the fireplace, and i had these gorgeous logs, many of them obviously just decorative because they were polyurethaned or something. many were oversized, but most were in the shapes of mary and the saints. i wanted to put them in the fireplace for decoration, but my bed had been moved in front of it, completely covering it. tacky, so not feng shui.
i maybe comment on my disapproval - why did they rearrange it like this? sigh.
in the studio, i see that hispanic boy has worked alot, but left the whole place kind of a freaking mess. there are colored patches of drywall or something all over the colored wall. i'm trying to decide whether i'm pissed because i have to remove them, or if i'm going to incorporate them, just leave them and love them.
then they come in. the mafia. their job is to kill motherfuckers. regular folks.
they're propositioning josh and the hispanic kid to join their crew. waiving large sums in their face, conceptually. there's a contract. they're pretty fucking scary, and how the hell did they get in my apartment anyway? i've got to figure out how to get that door closed.
the woman, blonde, intensely scary eyes. she looks at me and asks how i'd feel if josh started this? i say well personally i'm not okay with it. if he started doing it, i wouldn't see him anymore. but you know, i've got nothing against it.
obviously i'm afraid of the woman, trying to gloss over my opinion on the matter. josh stands there, contemplating the money he'd make. yeah, i'd kill some people for that kind of money.
next thing i know, they're in my bathroom, the mafia, trying to cut up or drain out or do something to this body. they've killed the man, and now he's in my bathtub, and they're performing some kind of disgusting procedure on it. my door keeps getting taken off and i keep trying to explain to maintenance that i have 3 cats and they could run away if they dont replace the damn door ASAP.
i put my kitties in the studio and all is then pretty much well.
switch to outside the apartment, there are 2 girls and i talking. one is wearing soft knitted wool leggings. we are sitting in a triangle talking. presently i realize they are only talking to eachother, and i feel excluded. then the dark haired girl to my left turns her back completely on me. i complain of the fact, then get up and walk away, making some passive aggressive excuse, avoiding confrontation.
i creep upstairs to the 3rd floor, traveling up the stairs with this big fruit basket. i'm dropping it off at the house of the enemy. girls i believe. ex-friends. i go to drop the basket and see in horror that the door is wide open. some of them must be in the apartment, feet from me, and i'm unprotected, by this open door. i'm afraid. i drop the basket and run down the stairs. endscene.
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