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05-05-2016, 03:48 PM
The Old West in Victorian Baltimore
I remember two layers of my dream, one much more so than the other.
In the first dream, I was walking around the streets somewhere back on the east coast. It was not clear initially where I was located but it appeared I was on vacation and possibly combining the trip with a small work assignment as well. I was there for a few weeks. I spend a good deal of time getting the lay of the land. There were some dark wood buildings, which formed a sort of an indoor small mall filled with small cafes and shops, catering to both tourists and locals. There was one particular cafe I liked going to for coffee/tea drinks and lunch. It was busy but offered a respite from the busy streets and traffic. I realized I was in Baltimore when someone mentioned the “aquarium” which was an attraction.
The second layer of the dream found me in the same city. I was working at a 3-4-story Victorian Mansion, owned by my mother. I chose not to tell others that my mother was the owner to have a more authentic interaction with those who worked in the mansion. I was preparing to leave and go back home. I needed to pack and finish my duties. I was traveling by car and checked the best route back to the desert southwest with different maps. I was going to miss one particular friend I had made who seemed to be a butler of some sort. My mom asked me to come look at the view out the back balcony, it was nearing sunset. I was a bit annoyed as I knew how the ground s in the front of the mansion looked and I was very behind in packing and preparing for my departure. I went with her to the back of the home and she flung open the doors to the back yard balcony, the mansion was adjacent to other multistory Victorian homes on a Victorian street. Although this was the backside of the home, it fronted a main = street and looked more like a front of a house. Across the street from the mansion, was the unexpected. It looked like Moab, Utah. There was a red/pink canyon with what reminded me of the Colorado River which flows into Moab. Basically, the “desert southwest” was across the street from Victorian, Baltimore. After gazing at the view for a few minutes thinking, “that is odd, but beautiful”, I walked back to the mansion and sat down in front of was looked like backstage theater make-up mirrors with the light bulbs on the sides of the mirrors. It seemed perfectly natural to be speaking to my mom while getting ready to say goodbye. Suddenly, my chair started moving along with a cart to the side of me. They were being remote controlled by the butler friend. I think he may have been a tad upset realizing whom my mother was and was attempting to tell me it was time to “go”. The chair kept going down the hall to the and made it’s way to the bottom of the house somehow and out the doors at which point I realized I could not leave yet because I had not finished packing so I jumped off and rolled behind a bush next to some grass and rocks. When I was about to get up, I looked up to where the Moab canyon view was (no neighborhood homes in site now, just canyon and river) and was surprised when 10 – 15 horses came riding from west to east, across the now dusty road with Native American Indians mounted upon their each of the horses backs in full Native American clothes including one in a white head dress. Their pace was fast as they were on some sort of mission. I hid, not wanting to be seen, thinking that something odd was happening. I knew I needed to find my way back into the house without being seen by either the Victorian Workers or the Native American Indians. I then woke up.
Thoughts. The first dream seemed to take place in modern times, the next in a cross of Modern, Victorian and Old West. It was interesting that I was trying to get to the Desert Southwest, my home, but it seemed to come to me instead, yet from a different century. I was reminded a bit of some towns in Arizona, which have a Victorian era feel to them due to when they were established, yet are in the state of Arizona. This might include Bisbee or Jerome. Moab does not have a Victorian feel to it.
I remember two layers of my dream, one much more so than the other.
In the first dream, I was walking around the streets somewhere back on the east coast. It was not clear initially where I was located but it appeared I was on vacation and possibly combining the trip with a small work assignment as well. I was there for a few weeks. I spend a good deal of time getting the lay of the land. There were some dark wood buildings, which formed a sort of an indoor small mall filled with small cafes and shops, catering to both tourists and locals. There was one particular cafe I liked going to for coffee/tea drinks and lunch. It was busy but offered a respite from the busy streets and traffic. I realized I was in Baltimore when someone mentioned the “aquarium” which was an attraction.
The second layer of the dream found me in the same city. I was working at a 3-4-story Victorian Mansion, owned by my mother. I chose not to tell others that my mother was the owner to have a more authentic interaction with those who worked in the mansion. I was preparing to leave and go back home. I needed to pack and finish my duties. I was traveling by car and checked the best route back to the desert southwest with different maps. I was going to miss one particular friend I had made who seemed to be a butler of some sort. My mom asked me to come look at the view out the back balcony, it was nearing sunset. I was a bit annoyed as I knew how the ground s in the front of the mansion looked and I was very behind in packing and preparing for my departure. I went with her to the back of the home and she flung open the doors to the back yard balcony, the mansion was adjacent to other multistory Victorian homes on a Victorian street. Although this was the backside of the home, it fronted a main = street and looked more like a front of a house. Across the street from the mansion, was the unexpected. It looked like Moab, Utah. There was a red/pink canyon with what reminded me of the Colorado River which flows into Moab. Basically, the “desert southwest” was across the street from Victorian, Baltimore. After gazing at the view for a few minutes thinking, “that is odd, but beautiful”, I walked back to the mansion and sat down in front of was looked like backstage theater make-up mirrors with the light bulbs on the sides of the mirrors. It seemed perfectly natural to be speaking to my mom while getting ready to say goodbye. Suddenly, my chair started moving along with a cart to the side of me. They were being remote controlled by the butler friend. I think he may have been a tad upset realizing whom my mother was and was attempting to tell me it was time to “go”. The chair kept going down the hall to the and made it’s way to the bottom of the house somehow and out the doors at which point I realized I could not leave yet because I had not finished packing so I jumped off and rolled behind a bush next to some grass and rocks. When I was about to get up, I looked up to where the Moab canyon view was (no neighborhood homes in site now, just canyon and river) and was surprised when 10 – 15 horses came riding from west to east, across the now dusty road with Native American Indians mounted upon their each of the horses backs in full Native American clothes including one in a white head dress. Their pace was fast as they were on some sort of mission. I hid, not wanting to be seen, thinking that something odd was happening. I knew I needed to find my way back into the house without being seen by either the Victorian Workers or the Native American Indians. I then woke up.
Thoughts. The first dream seemed to take place in modern times, the next in a cross of Modern, Victorian and Old West. It was interesting that I was trying to get to the Desert Southwest, my home, but it seemed to come to me instead, yet from a different century. I was reminded a bit of some towns in Arizona, which have a Victorian era feel to them due to when they were established, yet are in the state of Arizona. This might include Bisbee or Jerome. Moab does not have a Victorian feel to it.
