I was in line waiting to voice my complaint. I was going to bring Penny to justice for slashing all four of my tires. But then on the other hand, I might be in line to defend myself. Dreams can turn the tables on me. Anyway behind the desk lined up against the windows were some of my very own paintings. At first I thought good. I can pick them up at the same time as my interview. Saves time! But what paintings are these? One was a 1999 painting I did of Mockingbird Lane in Tucson. It was of the humble but aesthetically sensual, adobe home of Professor Robert Colescott. He was a former inspiration from my college days. Then the other paintings were the ones I was trying to place in my mind.
'Oh no!', the strange woman said from behind the desk. 'I like these paintings , I purchased them. Don't you remember? They are not hanging yet because we just moved into smaller quarters. With the economy so bad we couldn't afford our larger office. I still have hopes, though, in a few months we will be moving back. Our service is crucial to a changing world and doesn't cost the tax payer a dime. We are the office of dreams.'
Now we could proceed with the charges I had in mind, but the dream ended.
As I write this afternoon, enough time has passed so I see more clearly the meaning of my dream. I am Penny who opened my car door, and put her face in mine after slashing my tires. But I still can not see the meaning of Colescott's house.