The house I grew up in is somehow not mine anymore (indeed, it has been sold on in waking life), and is currently undergoing updating, renovation, remodeling.
There's some kind of party, in my house I think, and I'm running through it—I'm the "it" person because of my fashionable dress. I've managed to wear the things that everyone else wanted but couldn't get their hands on. I got mine in a department store style setting; but I shoplifted all the items. It was more cheeky luck than premeditated theft: I'd been trying on items, and found the store deserted upon emerging from the changing rooms. I stole away from the shop without the black owner ever noticing. The shirt, the item most people at the party are impressed by, still has a price tag on it. It has pronounced tails, and is patterned with large diamond shapes. The colouring is gaudy, like some awful hip-hop fashion brand. Getting to my house, I see some new gleaming shutters or thin corrugated panels on the side of the house—like blinds twisted shut. The appendage is huge, covering a good sized portion of the leading wall. It's purple or green: garish, and set on an incline. I run up the incline and skate back down it on the soles of my sneakers.
A girl, perhaps a girlfriend, is with me inside the party, in my room. She's also impressed with my clothes. More people crowd around and are ogling the clothes on my back; perhaps reaching out and grabbing them. I begin to run again (not in fear, it's like kiss-chase almost).
I'm at the canal, and jump in—I sense this my training. I'm unfit and running and swimming are part of my regimen to get fit and prepared for the upcoming event (I don't know what it is). I'm a bit wheezy (I smoke in waking life), and am not quite up to par. No one is chasing me anymore, but the girl is still there. However she is not as smitten as before. I think I go back to the house once more, and now it is certainly not mine anymore.
It's university. I'm staying in a bedsit, a dive of a place—it's practically a squat. There's no sign of my housemates, the Spanish (my real housemates in waking life when I was a student), and I sense there hasn't been for some time. Though there are still signs of them having been there.
A rented video is in the main room, a small room, and it needs to be returned.
I'm getting ready to make a trip to the outside. The outside is more run-down than the squat; I sense it's a mildly dangerous place and it's generally better to avoid going unless you have to. There is rubble outside, it's like a bomb-site or post-war landscape.
Diego, my best Spanish friend, has come in through a window. I'm overjoyed to see him, but he acts like a stranger. I'm trying to make conversation but he barely acknowledges. Almost as soon as he's come in, he's out again. I too go out.
I'm walking past some rubble that I sense is my (our) university. There are some high chain-link fences; behind them I see students in rag-tag clothing standing about. There is some kind of musical performance or concert about to start/starting. I look again, and see an androgynous black person singing. Perhaps this person is the group.
I wake.
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