Friday, March 10, 2006
Time for another dream report that nobody cares about but me.
I was with some people and we headed for the westbound L that goes down Chicago Ave. (which of course does not exist iRL). I got on the train, whose seats were the dark green faux-leather of the schoolbuses of my childhood, and realized that my friends had ditched me. Oh well, I sat down next to a sullen-looking man and looked out the window. And what did I see there? A large white sedan of early-80s vintage, suddenly veering off the street onto the sidewalk and crashing into a brick building. I seemed to be the only person who saw it happen, and it looked so deliberate that I kept watching to see what would happen next. A bearded man stumbled out from the driver's side, untangled himself from his airbag, and started walking down the sidewalk while rapidly pulling on several articles of Cubs clothing (jersey, hat, gloves, some other things). Then the train stopped and I got off because apparently I was headed to the Apple headquarters on Chicago Ave. The Apple building was everything you would expect it to be - all postmodern and boxy, aggressively trendy and exuding an aura of no real work actually being done inside. The building was a cube maybe 10 stories high, with a security guard who made me run my purse through a metal detector but let everyone else just walk right in. The building's outer walls were made of a soft grey opalescent stone that let the sunlight through without the need for windows. The entire interior, as far as I could tell, consisted only of escalators and balconies. The escalators were magnetic or gravity-powered, and the ends tilted up and down depending on where the passengers needed to go (there was a sign that explained it but I didn't stop to read it). I braved the bizarre escalators for a few floors, then finally reached my destination where Steve Jobs was waiting for me, and lo and behold he was the crashed-car guy.
No point in looking for deeper meanings there, I think.