phthalombrage | Strange dream

It began relatively innocuously: I am invited on a trip through a ride designed to make grade school kids excited about protecting the environment some guy did DIY as a project on government funds. It REALLY bothered me that one of his mechanical alligators actually touched our car just before we got dumped onto a slide that sent us to an auditorium to watch a film about the rainforest. If I'm on a ride and you are trying to scare me, don't touch me.

Then I was off to do some snow-biking. Mountain bikes. On snow and ice. Chris was apparently into it in my dream. They say we are doing a steep ride to profit from a quick fast spin on a circular icy track, but I don't notice that the climb is difficult, just try to keep pace and stay in line.

I come home, and Jim says he can no longer look at the ceiling because of a medical issue, and asks if my mother is home. I say I dunno, I just got here, and she comes out and starts some kind of fight about food and leftovers. I go to a different room, where some dance moms (who have certainly never been in my house) are talking about marital problems that one of them is having. The the wife of the cheating (maybe also worse) spouse, a mousy woman with straight-across bangs, glasses, and a midwestern sort of frumpy, bland smile, stabs herself in the neck with one of the plastic knives they've been using to slather cream cheese on their bagels. They all hustle out of there.

My brother gets home and starts attacking a whole bunch of things. It is oddly reminiscent of childhood to be retreating into my room with my arms out dodging the sharp things and blocking the large bulky things he's throwing forcefully at me. I'm yelling at him, and once my dad (who is very drunk) takes notice that something is going wrong, my brother leaves me alone and breaks a lamp in the family room. "Dad," he says, "It's time you knew I have a child." My mother seems to have already been informed, which puzzles me until I realize my brother probably can't afford child support. I am furious that this is how I had to learn this, furious that my brother hasn't been taking care of his kid. He's been at home, I know. "I went on craigslist, I just wanted to try something new," he said with a tone of desperation. "She's a little girl..." And I just hate him hate him for being so white trash and deadbeat and our generation was supposed to break away from that. Apparently he impregnated a craigslist hooker with a blog. I found two places on the internet talking about him, one through her eyes, something about how he was crouched in the bushes of a walmart parking lot waiting for her and how he smelled like clothing drenched with beer, a little hint of cologne, things I didn't want to be thinking. Him taking her from behind. Did she want the baby? The poor baby. Stupid stupid. My brother is not a virgin, my little brother knocked up a stranger before I even had sex. It almost borders on jealousy, it is such a strong emotion of repulsion. I have to go.

So I head to Stan's office, offering my help to the directors of the old dance studio, saying I'm here about the "family problems", being vague so as not to look gossipy. A woman had dropped her keys in the elevator, and as I passed them back to her just as I left, I felt like they would have disappeared off the face of the earth had I not rescued them. I wasn't a hero, I was just feeling bizarre. The elevator was a cutaway showing the gears and pulleys. But I told them, "and my family is also having some problems." Mark proposed that they would save the proceeds of ten recital tickets for us two (both Nicoles) and have a raffle to see if we get it. I was like, okay, okay, backing up into the next room, an unpopulated replica of the first, another time, where little houses made of bricks and leaves line the counter. I remember having had a speed contest to make these autumn-themed houses, and wonder if I can find my own. I am pleased by its design - the others were made by engineering classmates, so were often more functional than creative.

I wake up. What the fuck? I still feel like my brother is a teen dad.