goldfish eye, makeup counter, victorian market

Long dream. I remember from the time I am on the bus, on a shopping trip for potato chips. I’ve changed buses, or there is some issue with the drivers, who don’t want to drive. Eventually I’m sitting on a bus with D. and an old black guy, who are both totally at peace and also having a contentious argument about something silly which is a problem for the whole bus. A journalist is there, interviewing me as well. D. talks almost in riddles, not ever really addressing me, other than to make fun of me somehow by calling calamari some other weird name, which was also kind of funny, once I got what he meant. In between I buy chips from an Indian woman. Perhaps I also comparison shop.

Then I get off the bus and walk towards a victorian market. It’s Dream NYC, and market part is walled off. I go in. I pass through a massage shop, run by a friend. She’s not very confident. I move on and am again at a makeup counter. The two ladies see me stop and rush over to explain their display, which is groupings of makeup. I debate getting a new lipstick maybe, but very neutral. I have a neutral one but I wonder if it could get updated, plus it’s almost out.

Then another shop or two, books maybe? And eventually I am taking a bath, which at some point of the rinsing stage also happens to have a school of goldfish. Something is wrong with my eye, I should go to the doctor because my lens is ripping or something. I’m talking or listening telepathically to J., who says his family doesn’t believe in therapy (?) even though his dad needs it.  I look in the mirror and my left is is totally white and opaque, like a freaky weird goldfish eye. The lens is totally ripped off, just a bit hanging by the thread. I’m shocked. I call someone (telepathically of course) to take me to the doctor.