I'd come from looking at a breakfast menu at a place called the "Jazz Club Cafe", and was then walking with two college-age boys up a path who were in the midst of an argument.
I was almost sure there must be someplace called "Jazz Club Cafe" in the world as we know it, but that search in Google returns no hits on something with that precise name.
boy one: "Really, this group isn't coming together. The work isn't distributed evenly."
boy two: "We're three hours late. It's not a good time to talk about dissolving the group, save it for tomorrow. Let's deal with this and then we'll see."
We walked up to an office with a glass wall. They signaled to a woman in a chair inside, who was in a meeting with what looked like another group of 3. She made some sign-language type gestures at us.
me: "What does that mean?"
boy two: "It means 'come back tomorrow."
me: "Can you...hm, can you signal 'please may I ask a quick question?'"
He did, and the person inside got up and walked to the door but did not open it. Then I understood that it was I who was supposed to open the door and walk in if I wanted to come in. I did, and faced the person who had been signaling us, who seemed to have morphed into a man.
me: "I'm sorry about this lateness issue. I'm not really sure I understand what time is. Perhaps part of being late was due to reasons under our control, but I assure you many of them are not. In fact, I have no idea where I am or what this is all about... from my point of view right now, I'm asleep and this is a dream."
I introduced myself by trying to write my name on a sheet of paper with a red marker and having it fail, the group looked over my scratchings and tried to decipher it. I then named a famous author who has my last name, and a famous athelete who has my first name.
man: "Ah, he's from Nevada isn't he?"
me: "I'm afraid I don't know, I'm just trying famous names to help you read my scratches."
The athelete is from California, according to Wikipedia.
me: "Anyway, I experiment with this kind of idea. I'm an interpreter or a translator...at least that's how I think of it."
man: "What is it exactly that you translate?"
me: "I can carry information between the waking and dreaming world. It's rarely the same circumstances, though...like, I don't recognize any of this. But most people where I'm from can't do this, and if they do I don't think their methods are good for communication."
man: "What is it that you want?"
me: "Experiences like this are quite disorienting and one of my goals is to understand them. I think it would be of great general use to the science and understanding of the people where I'm from if some kind of breakthrough were made in terms of the mechanisms here...and I am personally excited about what it might mean in terms of some of the big questions about life and spirit which might be better answered."
During the conversation, the person's head turned into something like an astronaut helmet but maybe more like a Sony ASIMO robot:
Two more astronaut-headed things came up and had a needle with which I was injected, but unlike other painful injections it was a reasonable one. As I faded out in a fairly comfortable manner, a voice sort of laughed and said:
voice: "I won't even ask the usual 'are you under sedation' question."
In the context, I interpreted it that they had talked to sleeping humans before...and perhaps it was interesting to them to know whether those people were having an out-of-body experience due to ordinary sleep or because of an anaesthetic in a hospital.
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