bag lady dreams
I dreamed I was a bag lady.
One of the homeless.
But I wasn't your regular unwashed, unkempt type, wheeling her possessions around in a stolen supermarket trolley.
No No NO, not me.
I was clean, groomed, nicely dressed.
I wheeled my possessions around in a clean, small, wheelie bin, that had a heavy chain and padlock attached.
I'd hang around the really fancy hotels, the ones where rich tourists were known to stay.
There'd be a bench seat on the footpath near the main entrance, and this is where I'd chain the wheelie bin.
I'd pull out whatever novel I was currently reading and sit on the bench pretending to be waiting for someone.
Being clean and well dressed any hotel staff who saw me didn't take much notice. I was never "moved on", like I would have been if I'd hung around dirty and smelly.
As the tourists left the hotel, they'd spot the bin and drop in stuff they no longer wanted.
Souvenirs they'd bought on impulse, but didn't really want.
Clothing they'd bought when touring the local colourful markets, but decided they didn't really like after all.
Sometimes some of their own clothing, maybe they'd spilled coffee or hotdog sauce and the stain hadn't quite come out. Maybe a small cigarette burn on a jacket. A pair of shoes with a broken heel.
(Remember this is a dream.....)
At the end of the day, or if the bin filled before that, I'd unchain it and move on to an abandoned shed on the outskirts of the area and sort through the contents.
(This is where I stayed, with used, mostly good, furniture that I'd dragged in off the roadside during hard rubbish dump season. I even had blankets!)
Souvenirs were placed in a cardboard box, clothes were tried on.
Any that fit became mine.
Clothes that didn't fit me were carefully scrutinised.
Missing buttons? I'd sew some on.
Stain? Embroider around it and turn it into a flower or something.
(In real life I'm not at all crafty, there's no embroidery going on here)
Shoes were also tried on, particularly if they were boots that would keep me warm through the winter.
Heeled shoes that had a broken heel were placed in a bag to be taken to a shoemaker.
One weekend a month, the good stuff, clothing and souvenirs were taken to a weekend market where I would sell them.
This is how I'd make enough money to pay for food, soap, and the repairs on the shoes, which I would then sell at the next market.
One of the homeless.
But I wasn't your regular unwashed, unkempt type, wheeling her possessions around in a stolen supermarket trolley.
No No NO, not me.
I was clean, groomed, nicely dressed.
I wheeled my possessions around in a clean, small, wheelie bin, that had a heavy chain and padlock attached.
I'd hang around the really fancy hotels, the ones where rich tourists were known to stay.
There'd be a bench seat on the footpath near the main entrance, and this is where I'd chain the wheelie bin.
I'd pull out whatever novel I was currently reading and sit on the bench pretending to be waiting for someone.
Being clean and well dressed any hotel staff who saw me didn't take much notice. I was never "moved on", like I would have been if I'd hung around dirty and smelly.
As the tourists left the hotel, they'd spot the bin and drop in stuff they no longer wanted.
Souvenirs they'd bought on impulse, but didn't really want.
Clothing they'd bought when touring the local colourful markets, but decided they didn't really like after all.
Sometimes some of their own clothing, maybe they'd spilled coffee or hotdog sauce and the stain hadn't quite come out. Maybe a small cigarette burn on a jacket. A pair of shoes with a broken heel.
(Remember this is a dream.....)
At the end of the day, or if the bin filled before that, I'd unchain it and move on to an abandoned shed on the outskirts of the area and sort through the contents.
(This is where I stayed, with used, mostly good, furniture that I'd dragged in off the roadside during hard rubbish dump season. I even had blankets!)
Souvenirs were placed in a cardboard box, clothes were tried on.
Any that fit became mine.
Clothes that didn't fit me were carefully scrutinised.
Missing buttons? I'd sew some on.
Stain? Embroider around it and turn it into a flower or something.
(In real life I'm not at all crafty, there's no embroidery going on here)
Shoes were also tried on, particularly if they were boots that would keep me warm through the winter.
Heeled shoes that had a broken heel were placed in a bag to be taken to a shoemaker.
One weekend a month, the good stuff, clothing and souvenirs were taken to a weekend market where I would sell them.
This is how I'd make enough money to pay for food, soap, and the repairs on the shoes, which I would then sell at the next market.
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You have the most ORGANISED dreams I've ever heard of!
ReplyDeleteI wonder if you're afraid of losing what you have, and so in your dream you're figuring out how to manage it?
What an interesting dream. And as for not being crafty, well I remember having overalls with fancy patches on them when I was just a tiny little girl, so I'm sure you could do it with other clothes.
ReplyDeleteToni; I think you've hit the nail on the head. I look around me at all the things I can't bear to let go of and wonder how I'll keep them if I ever have to move to somewhere even smaller than my current home.
ReplyDeleteno-one; I remember the patches; I also remember jeans with patched knees and matching cuffs to lengthen them, but those were sewing machine projects. Nothing was ever embroidered. i don't sew anymore, the machine doesn't work properly.
Toni is right, that is one organised dream. I mostly seem to dream in conversations rather than images, but any dream involving me as a bag lady would turn surreal very fast. Like the wheelie bin talking.
ReplyDeleteAre you super organised while you are awake too?
I'm impressed that you remember so much of the dream - and that it was so methodical and efficient. I mostly have weird dreams that I remember in snatches and which resemble a Salvador Dalà painting, leaving me vaguely unsettled.
ReplyDeleteI'm hopeless at dream interpretation, though the theory of Toni's was good.
Are you sure you weren't a homeless bag lady in a previous life?. Your dreams are very vivid indeed because i can't recall any of mine the next day at all :-).
ReplyDeleteEC; usually I have many small dreams, mixed up, disjointed, and I can't remember them, I only know I've been dreaming. Occasionally I get one like this, that I remember just like it was a book I just read. I am organised in my waking hours, but not super organised like when I had the kids in school.
ReplyDeleteMarie; I don't always remember my dreams as well as this, I wish I did. They'd probably make a great novel.
Windsmoke; I think I was a stone-age herbalist/healer.
OH that reminds me of some crazy story I read once about a lady who farmed in silk gowns and whatnot but then it turns out that she was very poor but that was all she had left over from her previous life. You know... really likely stuff.
ReplyDeleteIt would be nice if some of the dopey souvenir money went to the homeless generally come to think of it. :)
Maybe your dream is 'Worst possible outcome' syndrome. If you see a problem looming, work out what's the worst possible outcome. If you can cope with that, it's not so scary! I guess that's a variation of Toni's theory.
ReplyDeleteBut scarily, it sounds like living the way you dreamed is actually possible!!!
River 21 posts to catch up on? You're a blog fiend. Yeh, I think we OCD types have tidy dreams.
ReplyDelete