schubert club, dirty mop water, bungee contraption

Exhausting dream. I’m among a group of people, we are doing a workshop. I’m fussing a lot with my “garden” on spotify, on my various technical equipment which I don’t own in real life. I have to send files. There is a lot of fuss about the sign up sheet, the identities of the other other people in the group. Some are using weird names that sound a little like old porn or stripper names. I know who they really are, I have the files, but it’s annoying to sort them, so I usually am not that curious.

There are various places, levels where we meet and have the workshop classes. In front of us, it’s actually also a large green meadow, and they have erected a huge white frame, on which we do this weird bungee thing. There are many strings above, with buckets and inner tubes, all white, hanging, if you can grab them while bungeeing. They grade your progress by your sneakers, which have ID chips in them. This is a bit of a problem, because nearly everyone is borrowing someone else’s shoes for this.

We have do do an exercise, it’s like a breakdance worm thing. We have to contort, really fast, on the ground and jump up and land down again. I see a few people attempt it and decide I need to go stretch for this. Why didn’t they have us stretch? I’m walking to like an empty gymnasium, walking in from the back, down the old wooden rolling fold-away bleachers. The program heads are there, it’s A. and C. and T., having a meeting. I’m still wondering why they didn’t have a stretching portion when I stumble as I get near them to chat (not about stretching, just to chat) and I spill a huge quantity of dirty mop water all over the the floor. But there is an automatic thing that holds the mop water in, in like a little pool/moat thing. But I have no idea how to get it back in the mop container. DIfficult. A. laughs a little and shows me how it’s done. I am amazed that this works.

Then I’m in another room, waiting for something to start. We’re sitting in a circle in chairs, but there are big gaps in between since people bring their own chairs. The room is a little like the big room at the Eesti Maja (again). I’m secretly delighted about my qualifications to be there, and hoping someone will ask me. I don’t officially belong to the club. The other people are mostly decades older than me. There is a sturdy man with straight white hair sitting almost directly across from me and to the left who is important, and an older woman to my right with curly short hair who is important but less so. 

I ask a few strategic questions about what we will do and so on. I ask about singing, it’s a Schubert club. Does everyone know how to sing? Apparently, no. So I’m excited to show off my singing when it’s time to do so. Only problem is that I don’t know any Schubert. But I’ll figure it out. Then they discuss a few things I don’t quite understand, but they also mention that this club costs 700 dollars or euros, but they recently lowered the price to 695. It’s the big news.