In the dream last night there were several parts. In the first part K and I were in a variety of snowy places. They were collegiate and cobbled and winding and I kept asking "are we in Providence? Charlottesville?" And the two girls we were hurrying to follow kept saying "No!" At one point the city appeared to fold in on its side and then it seemed as though it was Kyle or some other small Texas town frayed on one edge by the interstate. But then we were in a large house -- southern, gothic in its architecture with sprawling rooms and columns and porches. It felt hot, and perhaps wet. And then there was another side -- a part of the house that abutted a mall. It was a large mall, like the one in towson, and there were fluorescent -lit cinder block hallways. There was some confusion in one of the bathrooms off the hallway. I was washing socks so that they would be clean to pack. I asked K if he wanted to trade suitcases. I had books in mine and so did he and we thought to switch because at least then they might be light enough to bring. But it seemed unlikely that everything would fit, and our belongings were scattered and dirty and disorganized.
The next part of the dream was like a flap of cardboard that unfolded from the side of a box -- like a book flap. And in this part that unfolds from the dream on a crease that is like the wall of the house, it again becomes a house that is like my grandparents' house and I was following a friend from high school, D. She was blond and gangly like she was all limbs and bare feet and ankles. I was following her up the stairs that had dark oak banisters and multiple flights and landings. And we were going up up up to the highest little attic corner of the house. It was like a secret wing or turret (reminiscent of the little octagonal room in the victorian doll house with the plastic windows) and it was where D's mother slept. When we reached the top there was carpet and quiet like a room that someone slept in but is empty. There was a crumpled silk nightgown on the floor and the bed was unmade. I was aware that we should not be there and that we might get caught. I watched as D tried to slide into a closet in the corner. I knew it was the attic because of the a-frame roof that hung down and tapered toward the white half-door of the closet that D was opening and sliding into with only her bare legs sticking out. This was as we (I was with at least one other girl, maybe J) took to looking at the shelves -- the stacks of papers and books and boxes. Then D was back in the room (which was lit by skylights) and showing us her mother's diary. Her mother seemed to be some sort of astrologer and and she had logged the locations of all of the planets for each day. There were long columns with numbers and hieroglyphic planetary symbols written darkly (like someone had pressed hard) in pencil. These little rows like runes on a tablet. As I was looking I was like "of course she knows the future." And I thought that if D's mother knew the future, than surely she most know that we were here in this room looking at her things. And so at that moment I became even more afraid of getting caught. I crept behind the (curiously) open bedroom door to hide just as D's mother came into the room. I felt too large in the corner and so it was clear that there was no way for me to hide. Meanwhile, D and the other girl had positioned themselves in the middle of the room where they were nonchalantly looking at magazines. "oh mom," D said, looking up, "we just came up her to look at these." She said as if it were nothing. D went on flipping the pages of the magazine and her mother seemed annoyed but not like D was going to be in trouble. But then I came awkwardly out of hiding, smiling big and hard because I couldn't help it and knowing that my emergence made it clear that we were just pretending -- that we really knew we shouldn't be there. And so it was my hiding that actually exposed us all.