Sunday, June 24, 2007

Dream of Little Worth

Hello All,
Here is a picture of the 3inch high-heel boots, that are my working shoes, and a picture of me waking up this morning. This morning I had a dream really lacking in any ephemeral qualities, but I decided to post it anyway since the way I felt in the dream, sort of matches the way I feel in real life.
In the earliest part of the dream I can remember, I was in a very expensive department store with my friend Jones. The floor was so highly polished it was hard to tell which was brighter, the lights on the ceiling themselves, or the floor tiles. I was wearing my high-heel boots, which usually makes me feel good because they make me look taller and thinner, but in the dream I had injured one of my knees, so it was hard to walk in that confident click-clack. I felt self-conscious that the women in the department store would think I wasn't walking well because I didn't know how to walk in high-heels. In real life I get irritated when I feel women are watching me walk to see if I have trouble walking in heels, there's nothing genetic in a man that makes them unable to walk in heels. My 3inch heeled boots are the shoes I stand up 8 hours a day in, so it's understandably irritating when I feel a gaggle of women are excitingly watching to see if I stumble when I step over a curb. It's a pet-peeve of mine, just like when people ask me who did my make-up (I DID, duh). Anyhow, back to the dream.
As Jones and I were in the department store, he introduced me to some wealthy friend of his, a man in his early 50's. I have no idea why we were talking to him, perhaps he was going to buy us something, since we were in a store where neither of us could possibly afford anything. The man clearly wanted to say more to me, but his younger brother walked up to us (he was a man in his late 30s), and thought we looked cool, so wanted to hang-out with us.
The younger brother took us to a music store after hours. Naturally it wasn't to look at music, but to meet his wealthy friend who owned the place, and to play around with his instruments. We had a lot of fun, and soon the night grew late. We all went our different ways, but the younger brother had left a prescription bottle in my car, and called me the next morning to ask me to bring it to his house. I knew the younger brother was just slumming it with Jones and I, and would never actually want to be friends with us. He was just toying with us because we were cool, artsy, poor people. I did however recognize his older brother's desire to speak with me, who I could also tell was a homosexual.
That morning, I headed-off in my car with the directions the younger brother gave me. I was excited at my opportunity to talk more with the older brother because, frankly, I'm very poor and really want to get out of Raleigh and move somewhere were it's easier for an effeminate homosexual like me to get a job, or at least move to a place where I don't feel so marginalized. I figured the older brother might have some pity on me and lead me to some job connections.
When I got to the house (a mansion, of course), it had a large lawn, softly patterned with little hills, and each little hill had a large oak tree on it. Every once in a while, I'd see a suited security guard move from behind a tree. I got to the door, and to my dismay the bottom floor was laid out just like a reception lobby to a business, receptionists and all. This meant no chance encounter with the older brother. I brought the prescription bottle to the receptionist, and she called the younger brother. When she got off the phone with him, she said he couldn't come down because he wasn't finished sleeping, but thanked me for bringing the bottle back. Disappointed, but not really surprised, I went home and assumed my dealings with this rich family was over with.
When I got home there was a message on my answering machine from Jones. He was telling me that the younger brother wanted to hang-out with us that afternoon. I went over to Jones's house and we did something quick with the younger brother, like have coffee. The younger brother soon said he had to go home because he had a lot of work to do that night. Before I left Jones's house, Jones told me I should go to the house and ask if they wanted to buy one of my drawings because they had all kinds of money to throw around. So, the next morning I went back to the mansion.
I walked down the perfectly groomed lawn, with one tree for every hill (I suspected the hills were man-made). The closer I got to the house, I began to encounter little plastic toys, streamers, and plastic wine glasses. By the time I got to the house I actually had to brush the party refuse aside with my boots in order to get through. I had that humiliating feeling of, "Oh, he didn't have any work to do last night, he just didn't want us to show up at his party." I went up to the desk in the lobby, and there were two receptionists there.
I asked for the older brother first, and they said he wasn't home, but they would call the younger brother to see if he would look at the drawings I brought. I could hear the irritated mumbling of the younger brother on the other line of the phone as one of the receptionists tried to get him to come down. She seemed genuinely to feel bad for me, and said she was sorry and he couldn't come down. I began to talk to both of the receptionists and told them I was trying to see if the brother's would buy any of my drawings. They replied, "Dear, there are all kinds of little things you could do around here for money, you should come around later and see what we need done."
To me, that was the obvious point of demarcation between my "class" and the people of the house's "class." It sucks living in a "classless" society because there ARE classes, they just get to be more stealthy about it. That was about the end of my dream, so I got to wake up this morning with a mild sense of inferiority. I know I shouldn't be so vulnerable to social judgement, but oh well, I'm human.
Thanks for reading,

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