ANOTHER 'GET OUT OF BED AND WRITE THIS MESS DOWN' DREAM...THAT, OTHERWISE, WOULD HAVE BEEN FORGOTTEN....THEN, LATER, MANIFEST IN SOME OTHER DREAM.......AS SUBCONSCIOUSNESS LEAKS INTO PRETERNATURAL SURREALISM..........

 Within seconds, chunks of this Dream had already left....returning to the cloistering of similarities within whatever storage areas of my brain that semi-conscious sequences of images and sounds allow residence to them......From the bits and pieces that remain in short term memory:    

"It' is, simultaneously, both a quarter of a century ago and "Now', which is just an assemblage of 'Thens', 'Perhaps', and "Inventions of Artful Recollections"......as I exit the passenger side of a 1966 Chevrolet Caprice, driven  by my absent-minded Mother, who hands me an umbrella, exactly the color (blue-green-gray) as the vehicle,  admonishing me to 'not get the chair wet.."......Then, I am aware that I am lugging one of my parents' mahogany dining room chairs....for unknown reasons.....from the car...now parked in a 'parking area' next to a popular restaurant in Huntsville, Alabama.......sorta like "Fisherman's Wharf", although that is just a nomenclature that pops up to satisfy my Mind's prerequisite to 'label....thus know' what 'Is' and 'What's going on"......So.......as my mother parks the car a couple of blocks away, to avoid having to pay a parking lot attendant $6 to do so, then after lunch, having to validate the meal receipt to save the $5/hr parking 'fee'......I enter the restaurant....carrying the heavy dining room chair.......Within the 'restaurant' is a desk, behind which is a cashier holding a big, rubber stamp in one hand and an ink pad in the other......Above the cashier's head....a sign,  saying:  "If you have a chair, please take the elevator....otherwise,  wait to be seated.".......So, I press the "UP" button,  and after an 'elevator-full of people' exit, enter the elevator, which is an exact duplicate of the first elevator that I 'rode'.....at Dunavant's Department Store, in 1949......the same elevator operator, suddenly, appears.....seated on a black enamelled swing-out seat.......looking just now....in this dream, anyway, like Lily Tomlin as Ernestine....the elevator operator.......'Going up?' she asks......odd, since there was not evidence of either a 'down' button outside....although, within the elevator compartment there was a bronze lever that could be moved to 'up' or 'down' via a bakelite knob, held in 'Ernestine's white-gloved hand......{bits of the dream forgotten, missing, repressed........the story proceeds},,,,,the mechanical doors open to reveal a big sign that says 'THRIFT STORE LEVEL......EMPLOYEES AND DONORS ONLY!'........I exit, carrying the chair, and walk down a long, straight corridor, lined with many identical doors.....some open, some, ajar, and some closed.........Dozens of women and gay men appear,  with arms full of old clothes, toys, sculptures/paintings.....well, all sorts of 'old, discarded stuff'......I recognize just about everyone of these....they are familiar faces of people that I've seen, working, in the many Thrift Stores that I've 'been in' during my Lifetime.......Immediately, all of these people transform into hospital-uniformed doctors, nurses and attendants wearing little caps and hats.........I become anxious and enter an open door, where I discover, seated in a tiny room, an old tap dance teacher from Elementary School, reading a huge magazine entitled, boldly, "A Novice's Guide to Surrealist Sculpture and Dynamism", from which he......now the only 'real' friend that I had in 2nd Grade.......looks up and declares 'fancy seeing you here....nice chair..'......Aware of the heavy chair, I drop its legs to the floor and drag it, as it gets heavier and heavier, from this cubicle to a large room, lined with tall,  draped windows, within which the thrift shop workers, having replaced the 'hospital crew',  are arranging furniture to move into the 'Sales Area'......Tired of carrying around the chair, I hide it behind a velvet drape, that...when I move it to cover the chair, allows some bright light into the cavernous room......{more bits, forgotten/deleted.....}  I journey down the corridor, taking paths suggested by the seeming/suggested  itineraries of the increasingly populated area.........exiting through an arch/door into an immense Arena, full, will thousands of people carrying chairs of every kind.......Then,  realizing that I was...now......'chairless'........I tried to remember my way back to 'where I'd left the old mahogany dining room chair'....Arriving 'there'......the curtain was still drawn back, it's 'too long' length preventing its closure, since it's bottom was piled on the floor where the chair had been........Then, I awaken, with great anxiety, perspiring and breathing heavily.......and begin typing the detritus of dreaming......