We're All Pleased As the Dancers Melt Into the Floor

6/29/2025 –

I’m living in dorm type of situation and there’s a group of women who live next door. Fairly quickly, in a very cinematic manner I see that this red-haired woman has a quest. It’s like light pours out of her ceiling and she’s drawn upward into this endeavor via divine intervention. She’s getting a new dress and all the accoutrements and you know, the implication is that this shopping spree is divinely inspired in a way.

Now I’m upstairs at a party in this fairly generic feeling social room a floor above us. I smooze for a while and it ends up being one of those things where I’m going to leave exactly as this woman is walking in but holy shit. There’s a moment where we lock eyes and it’s all going through my head, once again in a bit of a cinematic fashion.

I always thought this woman was kind of cute but she was mostly wearing a pony tail with sweats when I saw her. The dress she picked out is stunning. So is the hang down flapper neckless. I can pretty much see the light cascading through her head from above and into her perfectly quaffed chin length red curly hair. I’m entranced. She is a relatively average looking girl by most standards but at the moment she seems like the most beautiful woman in the world to me. I can also tell that this was the mission. This is what she was trying to accomplish, which was to glamour me essentially. It worked.

I am on my way out and she’s on her way in but I make some time to flirt. There’s absolutely chemistry there but I can’t stay for whatever reason. We do make plans to hang out later in the week and of course I remember my wife right after I make these plans. Also, this woman seemed incredibly familiar to me and in waking up it was like: Yup. Yup. My ex-girlfriend from college.

The next thing I know I’m hanging out in our dorm room again and one of the roommates of the mesmerizing red-haired girl comes over. She’s this incredibly mousy little blonde in white stained jeans that looks a lot like a character actor from years ago that it’d take me too long tracking down to identify. Anyway, she wants to hang and she’s the most bubbly fun person in the universe. Just great vibes and her, me, and my other roommate are just jibing, throwing material off each other left and right. Again, it’s genuinely just fantastic good times until I look over her shoulder while she’s using my computer.

Wait a minute. Did she just send spam bullshit to my entire contact list through my e-mail? I can’t fucking believe it but I look in closer. She did. What in the fuck? She was being so incredibly friendly the entire fucking time and like, to send some spam e-mails? It’s so stupid. What’s stranger is that I want to yell at her but I can’t. All I can do is tell her to please get out in a reasonable manner. She’s simply too nice to yell at.

6/30/2025 - 

I'm being lead into a large room that looks like a massive restaurant except that all the tables are facing in one direction and out of these relatively small windows.When I enter there is a tall latino man standing by one of the tables with the best view of whatever the tables are looking at. None of the other tables seem to be occupied and he asks me:

"How did you know I was the one who set this up?"

To which I reply:

"Because if it was me I would have spent the $260 on the tickets." 

To which everyone laughs. 

In the next scenario I'm in a large Brownstone house in NYC. A bunch happens here that I don't remember but what I do remember is that at some point I go outside. It's summer. I'm just hanging out on the street in the sun briefly when someone that I must confess I don't remember serves me. Yup. Legal papers. Fun. And the thing is, I knew this was coming so I'm not surprised. Just mildly annoyed. 

Eventually I go back inside to read the thing because I have no idea what the case is actually about. It's all artfully laid out, like a ransom note with letters clipped from the newspaper and cobbled together to hide the handwriting. 

What does the case involve? Well, it has something to do with myself and this glam rocker looking dude named Peter, skinny dipping in some public body of water near a park. What's fascinating here is the way both Peter and I are being described. They are going out of their way to paint us as rocker dudes essentially, which is just sort of funny to me. That's their entire angle and they're obviously playing to prospective jurors who don't like artistic types. 

I haven't even dug in much yet but I can already tell the case is absolute bullshit and we did jack shit wrong. 

In the final sitch, I'm at this massive, very old school looking university. The place is just huge and I'm supposed to be taking 3 exams today. I haven't studied for these exams, nor do I need to take them or care. I'm talking to my wife about blowing them off and she's all:

"What the hell else do you have to do today?"

Fair point. So I go out to attend the exam administered by the gray haired woman professor but I look into the classroom and nope. It's just too weird and stupid for me to hit this up. Instead I realize there's this wood-paneled like curiosity shop next door that I visit instead. As I dig through the very strange ancient looking wares, I find what's supposed to be an old film stick that's very old school and supposedly involves Zia McCabe. It looks like a jump drive covered in crystal pastel, I'd say Victorian looking patterns. Oh man, this is just too weird, I have to buy it. 

As I am, the person at the counter lets me know that Zia runs her own store not far from here and would probably be fascinated by it. OK then. But I leave the store with zero plans of what to do with this old school film stick. Instead I decide to hang out in my practice space. Oh yeah, I have a practice space. This is a surprise to me. 

I head there and it continues to be a surprise. My dorm/lodging is right upstairs, floors above and I also have this modest space to make my art and music. I sit down and instantly write several songs in my head. See, this is what I was supposed to do with my day. I sat down and was possessed with divine creativity. Do I finish these songs? No, but I did write them. Instead I just kind of dick around for a while amazed that I have this practice space. Then out of absolutely nowhere, a DD client of mine from 20 years ago appears and starts freaking the fuck out. 

He then runs out of the space into the grassy quad. I'm now with another unidentified person and we have zero clue what to do about his tantrum. So we don't do anything. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming. I lie down on the grassy quad and try to fly but nope. After a brief period I'm not flying so I guess I'm not dreaming. Huh, I really thought that I was. 

But I suppose I'm not, so why not try and hit up Zia McCabe's store with that weird art drive thing, which I do and it's amazing. What a bizarre combination of strange outsider fashion and like taxidermy shit I guess. Is it all wood paneled? Of course. I walk up to talk to an employee and she's behind the counter. I hand her the stick and she's intrigued. I'm kind of confused though, if this is about something in her past, why am I giving it to her? Why would she care? 

I don't entirely get it, but she grabs the thing calmly, takes care of a few items of business, then starts leading me around the store, nonchalantly, not saying much. Once again, what a strange store. It's selling this aesthetic of caveman meets punk rocker or something. It's also huge and very busy with very cool looking customers. 

So she leads me into this back room, then back into this closed in area where she turns off the lights and puts on the projector. The movie now displays on the ceiling and it has nothing to do with Zia or the Dandy Warhols. What is it? Just surrealist video art with these crashing cymbal crescendos. The only thing I really remember are these silver dancer women that eventually absorb into the blackness of the floor. A group of people are watching it now. We're all pleased and as the women melt into the floor, she hugs me gently around the neck in a completely non-sexual way but more to tell me: fine work. That's where the dream fades out. 

7/1/2025 –

I’m a floating form of consciousness where my perspective seems to flip between people and I’m following this plot that takes place in an underground concrete walled industrial workspace space. We’re running some sort of wrestling organization and I get the vibe things are going fairly well. The employees seem to be happy at least. The dialogue is snappy and I can legit feel how they enjoy their work as I’m skipping through them.

At some point, my perspective shifts into this clean-shaven skinny guy with almost Luke Skywalker style floppy brown hair and a strong chin who doesn’t look like a wrestler at all but apparently is. I’m asking them to let me get down in some out-of-town matches but I’m told no.

“Remember what happened in Oregon?”

They ask me. 

This leads me to standing guard in front of a red door with another woman when we’re called upstairs to another concrete walled space. This time it appears to be a porn/sex toy/party store of some variety. We’re meeting with this mid-sized black woman with excellent tied up shiny hair and glitter on her face. We’re told that the place is being strategically shut down. If we surrender it, we can more effectively regroup elsewhere. The plans are already in motion.

We get it. I bring up how the floppy haired dude wants some out-of-town gigs.

“Nah, because of what happened in Oregon.”

Is the answer. I ask about what exactly happened in Oregon and the answer has something to do with NFTs.

On our way out I ask her if the place is insured.

“Oh, fucking obviously!”

She says. We’ve got this.

Support oneiromancy, buy my new book!