Creeping around like a cat
I’ve stumbled into a thrift store, where the owner, an old lady, is giving me the eye. She’s cut off her conversation with another customer, probably someone she chats with every day over coffee.
I look at some vintage bed linens, set up on a display bed, but think they’re too fragile for my use. A lot of things are hanging, and because I’m so tall, many of them brush against my head.
At one point, I pick up a grey scarf, not the kind that keep you warm, but the kind that some women wear as accessories. Sheer, light, and something I could never pull off.
I carried it in my hand for a while, but then realized I’d never wear it. I struggle to remember where to put it back, because the shop owner is watching me again.
I also look at hats, because I should get a hat to wear to work, because it’s wintry in our area of the office. But I can’t find anything that suits me.
Then I stumble into the video game section. This place is pretty small, mind you, and the aisles are very cramped. I get claustrophic in places like this.
But I find some game posters, including several Zelda posters. But they’re folded up; I can only tell that they’re Zelda, but not what they look like. They might be reproductions, because they’re in good shape. I unfold one, and it’s cool. I look at another, and it’s different, but still of Zelda. I decide I will buy one for my brother, Jon, and my friend Heather. I don’t want one myself, as I haven’t hung up any of my pictures or posters at my new apartment yet. And may never, the way things are going.
I also run into an extremely ugly lamp section. I really need another floor lamp for my apartment, and I think excitedly, this will be the place.
The lampshades are all wrapped in plastic, suggesting they’ve been remaindered from somewhere, but all hideously ugly. Most are purple or green with accents like feathers dyed to match or sparkly things. Definitely not for me. I also don’t see anything other than table lamps, and am getting a bit frustrated.
In another part of my dream, which I can only remember fragments of, I think there’s some sort of conflict going on, although it easily could be a simulation.
I just know that I’m in a group of people trying to infiltrate an office. In the group are normal people I know, but also MacGuyver. Well, actually Richard Dean Anderson of MacGuyver age, but done with the show. We remark that “that dude sure does know a lot. He must have picked up a bunch of stuff from working on that show all that time.” Something about duct tape and screws.
Then maybe there’s been a truce called. I take down some awards from the wall, all mine. Some of them fairly obscure.
Then I start creeping around cubicles like a cat stalking prey. I know this comes from having watched two programs on big cats last night on PBS. I also look around corners very sneakily.
My new boss, Daniel, looks down at me and asks what I’m doing. I’m staking out so-and-so, I say.
We’re not doing that any more, he says. Get back to work. From somewhere, I produce my armful of plaques. But I won an award for (something really lame, I’m sure.)
He is not impressed, and I slink to my desk, chastened and embarrassed, because I’ve been reprimanded for stalking like a cat.
But the actual creeping around, that part was just cool. I’d like to be able to do that. Watch cats sometime. Watching those PBS shows amused me, because I see some of that same behavior in the little versions. Like the slinking and the preparation to pounce.
