The Kitchen, the Author and the Tapping.

MORNING OF SEPTEMBER 9, 2009

Recently a friend has gotten me hooked on the series, Lost. I've been working my way through the existing seasons (currently only halfway through season 3, so no spoilers, please, all you scores of people who comment here and are likely to leave spoilers). Anyway, as I've been marathoning the DVDs of late, it's infected my dreams here and there (including ones that have already been posted here)...but none more obviously than this one:

I was with Locke and Desmond in some facility that looked a lot like the first hatch discovered on the island. There was a large kitchen that looked like what one might find in a really nice restaurant. Inside this kitchen was a large, metal door that we could not open. A good portion of the dream consisted of us trying to figure out how we might open it.

Eventually I hooked up some dynamite we had and was about to blow it open. I thought better of it at the last minute, afraid it would end up blowing everything else to bits.

My next memory is that Locke was showing me a sales brochure where you could order books. He pointed out a new book by supposedly his favorite author and told me he couldn't wait to order and receive it. I looked in the brochure and saw a list of the author's other works, and though all the titles were clear in the dream I now can only remember a couple of them. One had something to do with "The so-and-so-something Abortion". Another was "Aliens", which was explained to be the novel the movie of the same name was based on.

At this point I gradually became conscious (in real life) due to a light tapping noise in my bedroom. It turned out to be the little stick that opens and closes the venetian blinds on the windows gently blowing in the breeze from my fan and tapping the blinds. I was awake only long enough to register this and ponder the dream I'd been having for a moment.

In my next dream I was still in my bedroom hearing the tapping noise. Claire (also from Lost) was there and pointed out to me that it was the fan blowing the mirror on my dresser. So we pulled the dresser out from the wall together and were tightening the bolts that hold the mirror to it, so it wouldn't sway and tap anymore.

Now, suddenly and without notice, it was no longer Claire buy my cousin Stephen and his wife. As they finished tightening screws, I looked into a box that was lying nearby. There were old throw pillows and some hand-knit blankets and doilies and such that I recognized as being from my grandmother's house (only the pillows actually resembled anything she's ever really had).

I laid all of these items out in a row. For some reason my room was now lit with a black light. I pointed out to Stephen how these old items looked as they "glowed" in the black light. We were beginning to reminisce about the items as I gradually began to notice we were up in bleachers in some kind of large auditorium. People were filing in as though some type of concert or similar event were about to take place.