there is nothing to fear.

vivian:
at some crazy bar with something like karaoke, only not really; it’s for dancing, instead. people pick songs and then two ladies — well, two rotating pairs of two ladies — play songs on the piano and get people riled up. i remember in particular on song with really fucking amazing piano and two black women are playing it and the’ve gotten more attention on themselves, i think, than the dancers are interested in dancing. the one sitting on the left of the piano (they are sharing) is particularly amazing, jerry lee lewis style, and i am astounded. get the sense that troy is not pleased with me.

fast-forward and troy and some other people and i are walking around outside. pass by a block where on one corner is a giant building with red poofy letters; it’s some sort of donut shop only it doesn’t look like that at all; someone has described it as akin to what a keg?? would look like if turned into a building. that or something similar. on the opposite block, mars hill church, only they have similar poofy letters, as though they have purchased the adjacent building from the donut people, and their sign is all fucked up, half saying they are mars hill church and half saying donut stuff and popping out here and there super fucking strangely. soon, we drive somewhere and get out of a car. three other people go in and shua and i are outside discussing what to eat, and i feel like i can’t afford anything at this mexican restaurant we’re about to go to, and then realize that i might be able to eat some tacos! go inside and when i first enter, some mexican dude says hola china (intent — he actually says something slightly different), and i say hola, and we all sit down and there are maybe six people, and my mom is there. i am in a corner, near a doorway, actually, perched atop a doorway, and my mom is at the table to my left, troy at the table to my right, some people at both tables with them. i am vaguely looking in my mom’s direction and she keeps telling me not to look because she is afraid i will get the dude’s attention, and i say i talk to mexican people all the time and it is never unfriendly and they are never super serious about wanting to get with me. i say that that’s happening in los angeles, peru… all while perched up high, near the ceiling. at one point i say really definitively and authoritatively, “we shouldn’t fear other people,” and i say this and take a huge bite of food, and then put my index finger up to signal that i am going to say something else, just as sherry starts to say something. the elderly man next to my mom acknowledges aloud that i am going to say something else — and he seemed impressed by my first statement — and i say add, “unless they look really crazy. you can always tell the really crazy ones. they got crazy eye,” as i recall in my memory one i had seen recently (in the dream) who was batshit insane and looked very obviously that way. beneath me is a really thin and narrow doorway, and three-five men have just come to the restaurant. the first of them says, “there’s a doorway here,” and the others follow. the third man is so tall that he has to duck to pass me as i am perched up in the doorway. after this, i come back down and talk a little at troy and sherry’s table…

None of these dream symbols mean anything to me.

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