I was rearranging furniture in a house and trying to place things. There was clearly something wrong with the old arrangement, and I tried to reason through a better one. All the furniture was dark, but I noticed a piano against the wall. I walked up and started playing it...thinking about what I liked about pianos and wondering where this very nice one had come from.
Turning to look on the floor, I saw a lot of candy. I opened a few to taste them. One was "G.I. Joe" branded candy--it was chocolate covered and had a sort of odd taste that reminded me vaguely of something from childhood.
Now that I'm awake, a bit of research landed me on the name of the candy I had in mind: Sixlets, which I actually never liked.
I read the wrapper, and it had a long rant about "How's it made? Well we start with two pieces of wheat toast and then there's a candying process. And with the help of the musician Kenna
we're proudly sponsoring a tour of the Atlantic."
I had just referred LiveJournal user "mrnihil" to a Kenna video recently, but it seemed to be very clearly in the text I was reading.
Tried to get someone's attention about all this, and the fact that I was dreaming. A guy went over to a computer and asked someone (not me) about what the link was to my dream journal. He started reading it. I milled around.
Eventually I went back to the guy who was reading my journal, and saw him on the other side of a window. He was scribbling notes on a piece of paper. He was wearing a hat and looked a bit like a skipper, kind of oldish.
I reached in and grabbed the piece of paper away from him and looked at it. There were titles of dream posts and ratings ("clear, unclear, good") etc.
me: "What was so 'clear' about the dream titled 'Home'? How can you rate these things anyway?"
I have no such dream title, but he may have had his own naming system.
skipper: "Well even if I wasn't there, I can tell from the narrative. Some have more apparent structure than others. You just have to have the right perspective."
The discussion diverged a little, and he brought up something about me being angry and wondering where that came from, or what to do about it, or something.
me: (angrily) "Yeah well, I'll tell you a bit about being angry. And I got an idea that might make this a lot more 'clear'. How about if people took a minute to stop and actually explain things. Why doesn't anyone come to me? It really wouldn't take all THAT long."
He turned his back to walk away.
skipper: "Because that would be no good. Then you'd get all the wrong people."
I chased after him.
me: "Well what about you then? Why don't you help? How about I pick YOU?"
skipper: "No, not me. Just keep looking."
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