I was getting ready to move out of my parents home. I had the distinct feeling I could not leave soon enough for them. Not that they were pushing me out, but just that it was time to leave the nest. As I headed to my room down the hall, I noticed that the whole floor of the hall was somehow different. Phone books were stacked about a foot high all the way down the hall., and these comprised the new, raised floor. Then here came Kathy, my step mom, wheeling a stack of my National Geographics out of my room. Yes, I think they were looking forward to me leaving.
I went into my room, and it was almost empty, at least of my things. Kathy had brought a lot of her stuff in, and was setting up her new sitting room. There was a sitar on the wall. One of it’s tuning pegs was connected to the wall; as you pulled the sitar down, the strings tightened. I found that if you left the sitar down the wall about six inches, you got the perfect tone to copy George Harrisons’ tone from Within You, Without You. I played it for a while.
Then I stepped out to get a copy of some tapes I had– some Blu-Ray tapes. Because they were such high-quality tapes, only a professional could copy them. I went to the only place in town that could copy them, and handed them my three tapes. “I want this one tape copied to this second one here”, I told them. The second tape probably already had something on it as it was about 1/3 of the way through. They asked me if I was sure, and I said, “No, I am just guessing. I have packed up my Blu-Ray player so I cannot check the tapes. But I am pretty sure I know which tape is what.”
So they told me it would be .20 cents a second for the dub. Plus, I needed to furnish them with the patch cables. I could either bring in my own, or buy overpriced Monster Cables from them. If I bought their cables, they would start right away. I thought this was all too much, I knew I was getting ripped off, so I used this juncture in the sales patter to get my tapes back and cancel the transaction.
I was walking around the campus of my new school. It was kind of Cal State Northridge, but sometimes not. I was in the big plaza area, one that was raised above the ground level. I did not see any stairs, but there was a hole I could look down to ground level through. I looked down, and saw I was about 14 feet up. On one side of the hole was a pillar, cement, with pebbles on it surfaces. The pillar was scooped out in it;s center, going to full width at its top and bottom.
As I stared down, contemplating jumping down, another student walked up the hole and casually jumped down… and then continued walking across the quad. Having been shown the way, I jumped down the other side. An abrupt landing, but I did not break anything.
I made my way over to some upholstered benches to one side. I sat there thinking for a bit, when a man sat down beside me. He motioned to the screen that took uup the whole wall next to us, and said, “I like him. I especially like the one about the little kid.”
I looked to the screen, and saw it was showing a promo for the next Miyazaki film. I, too, like Hayao Miyazaki, and I told him so. “But I have no clue what film you mean”, I said. “All of them have kids in them.” We laughed, and we ended up deciding he liked Ponyo the best.
Now Tori was there, and I needed to drive her home. I gave the man a ride, too. As we were driving along the front of the school, he had me pull off to one side, and asked me if he could play something that my wife would hate. I said sure, and he turned around and started playing spoons on Tori’s head. I started to object, but then his wife pointed out that her head was actually protected by another, larger spoon, so she was not actually being hit by the spoons. I had not noticed the wife before. Nor had I noticed her English accent. I thought her from India.
Tori and I continued walking along the front of the school. There were a lot of large dorms up there, nice condo-sized set ups. Some had jacuzzis or hot tubs. I was not sure if this was students or teacher housing, but it was not the school administration; they had even bigger places toward the center of campus.
And then I was in a class. I was not really paying attention, and I did not really understand what the class was about. There was a guy to my left, a real weird person. All his books were enveloped in plastic wrap. Whoever he was, he exuded geekness.
The teacher came over to ask me a question; I just pretended to be sleeping, and she went on and asked the girls next to me. They did not know the answer either. Class ended, and I was on the bus with four girls from class. We were talking, and the girls told me how the weird guy was freaking them out. I said, “You think he was weird, try sitting next to him. Did you know all his books are rapped in plastic?”
No, they did not.
We had a good laugh about that one.
I woke up.