Open Dream Journal #69: Weird, Nonlinear

OK, so first I'm on a conference call - me and the CEO in his office, on speakerphone to the CEO of this other company we've been trying to iron out the last of the details (the least of the details, by this point - so it should have been a slam dunk! Nothing's ever a slam-dunk in a dream) with. Normally this sort of a call I handle by myself, so you can imagine the importance of this particular one, for Mr. Combustible to want to get involved (as we like to call him). But my CEO fuckin' FALLS ASLEEP right in the middle of it! Just nods off. I don't even know how I was able to salvage it like I did, since I didn't even understand what long, involved point he was in the middle of trying to make when he suddenly nodded off. It was awkward let me tell you. We were lucky to get out of it with a continuance and the other guy non-the-wiser. So to smooth things over and close things out, I put on a business suit and hopped a near instantaneous-speed radar-cloaked black-ops jet plane to Canada (in the dream, the other company's corporate offices are in Canada! Ridiculous). I was going to surprise the guy with a friendly visit and get the whole deal sealed. In the dream, he would have been delighted to see me. On the flight there, with the clouds whizzing by backwards at terrific speeds, my jet plane was attacked by government UFOs (ours or Canadas? I wasn't sure) but the attack was repulsed. When I landed the guy had gone home for the day due to the time difference, which was bullshit because it didn't seem that early - time difference or not! Anyway, I decided to make the best of it while I was there, so me and my buddies went to visit a world-famous state of the art Canadian Art Museum that was right there in the same city. My buddies were there already. These were my dream-buddies - I have no earthly idea who these dudes are, but in the dream, they were my buddies and all seemed quite psyched to have the chance to take in some Canadian Art. Despite how they were all dressed - more like sports fans. Anyhow, we all went in through the long, hi-tech security check-in line (this was a state-of-the-Art Museum). But while two of my buddies went on ahead without incident, right after we got through the metal detector me and my other buddy ran into trouble when he made some wisecrack where security could hear us. We took off running and security gave chase. The museum was awesome, and luckily not too crowded as the bullets whizzed past us and we did out best to outdistance the ever-growing ranks of our pursuers. We sprinted through some pretty sweet galleries, down curved descending tunnels, past and through the mini-buildings in a Vault of Canadian Architecture, all the while marveling as best we could at the large, well-lit art. Suddenly as we came out into a large double-bubble-shaped room with huge convex windows (convex from the outside, I mean - we were inside so perhaps I should have said "concave", but I'll stick with convex) - I suddenly realized that about 2 hallways back we had crossed into a section of the museum specifically designed as a trap for fleeing museumgoers. Back there at the perimeter, steel security doors had descended, sealing off this whole section - from which no further exits or pathways branched off! That's bullshit because to me, that sounds like a fire hazard. Some kind of serious code violation. I looked at the huge, bubbled-out windows. The glass was clearly inches thick, and cloudy from suspended lead-steel particles embedded within it that made it particularly indestructible. I grabbed my buddy and put him on my back and said: "hold on!" Then as the sounds of a veritable army of Canadian security goons closing in amplified towards us from every direction, I jumped up and punched the glass as hard as I could! - popping out a large, round section which we then dove through to safety three stories below. We were safe at that point: out of their jurisdiction, as soon as we left the museum grounds. My buddy took off walking in another direction - he seemed to blame me somehow, despite it was his wisecrack that set the whole thing off! Or maybe it was mine? No, it was definitely his. I forget what he said but it was stupid and I wouldn't have said it. Anyway, we'd seen a pretty good chunk of the museum, albeit at high speed, so it wasn't a total loss. I found myself later in a cafe having some sort of dinner with a girl with really intense eyes. She wasn't saying much. She had a set of maracas, and every time I said something she disagreed with, or where she thought I was lying, she lifted the left maraca and gave it a vigorous, protracted shake - all the while look at me wordlessly with those intense eyes. I remember feeling very hurt because it was all the truth! Everything I said was the truth. You can't just maraca a dude on the truth.