Dream: Meat in my Cocktail

I’m spending tim in a house with several male children and an attractive mother. One boy doesn’t like to be away from the mother so he’ll contact her via a laptop video connection whenever she leaves the room. I ask the boys about New Orleans and the flood, and have the feeling that we’re located in Louisiana or Alabama. The mother loves the children but appears to be lonely and bored from all the work and time that’s needed in the house. I am on the floor with the woman, flirting, and she pulls the draw string out of my shorts. We begin to get physical but are interrupted by the boy on the computer screen. Plans change, so we make arrangements to leave the boys at the house and go eat something.

We go to a restaurant and have the host seat us by a table next to the bathroom. A band is setting up their equipment, so we may be in the way of their “stage.” The smelling pile of cigarette buts and ash tray garbage on the floor makes us leave to take a table in another section. After we eat I don’t think we paid the bill, and then I leave the woman with promises to see her soon back at the house.

I begin to walk and discover a stencil on the ground by a construction site. Workers move items around as they end work for the day, so I have to move things to expose the stencil and photograph it. Once done I notice that my laptop bag is missing my laptop. Did I leave it at the house? Was it just stolen while I snapped the photo? Unsure, I gather my things and get on a large elevator.

Outside on street level, I walk past a stone-maze looking park. The stones are sooty from car exhaust. I walk into a door and enter a new, hip restaurant. A man greets me with “did you bring a pair of scissors?” “What?” I reply. The question is repeated. Looking into the kitchen and seeing many people cutting greens, I guess that they’re trimming pot plants. “I have an Xacto blad that I can bring next time,” I tell the man.

I hear the YTC call, coming from above the man’s head. I see NK peering out of a small window and we make eye contact. She mouths “I’ll see you after work,” and I give her an OK hand signal. Someone then offers me two cocktails.

Walking around the restaurant, I see tanks of exotic fish. At one table, several men are cutting raw meat with scissors. They have a platter of red and exotic meats in front of them and are enjoying the meal. I take one of the last sips of my drink and realize that there’s tuna meat in the bottom of them. Not sure what to think about meat in my liquor.

I wonder if getting back to the woman’s house will be difficult from where I am currently located.

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