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Traveling again.
(This was very, very vivid and life-like.)

I am on a craft, heading to a convention. I look behind me and see Jeff A (a friend in real life, but someone I have not seen in decades). maybe six aisles behind me. He is going too. He is a little younger than his "real age". He looks anxious but excited to be on the trip, like a first-timer.

I awaken in a luxury hotel suite in a high rise building. The bed is comprised of six mattresses, one on top of the other. I raise up from the top mattress, and look out the window and see a glorious seashore scene. It is a beautiful sunrise and there is a power craft cutting across the ocean just before the waves break. I appear to be on a high floor, maybe level twenty or higher. I call my friend Cherokee and ask her, "Guess where I am?". She guesses "California". I tell her "No, I am at the New Jersey shore." As I am talking to her "on the phone" (although there was no phone), I tell her I have to disconnect as I am about to fall off the bed; and, indeed I do exactly that, with the mattresses toppling over. I wonder who would stack up mattresses like that? I immediately squat down to begin looking for my return tickets back. I have three suitcases, one big collapsible one in navy, a matching smaller one in navy, and a cosmetics rectangular case. I am going through the big suitcases looking for the return tickets, and I am frenzied. I have had this problem before. If I can't find these return passages, I won't be able to go back. I find a new pair of prescription glasses, 80s retro styled, with clear frames. It still has a tag on it. But, I cannot yet find the manila envelope containing my passage confirmation back, and I am still nervous, wondering how I could lose this important document. If I do not put my hands on this envelope, I will not be allowed to go back.

I look over to the side of the hotel room, and see a big tan sombrero made out of soft and expensive cloth, with red lettering on it, small and cursive. I wondered if the hotel has given these urban sombreros out as a take-home souvenir for its guests.

I decide to try it on and keep it. I look at myself in the mirror, am seeing myself in an out of body state, and the sombrero is so big, it slips over the top half of my face. I still want to bring it home with me. I look familiar, but not quite the same. My face is thinner, as one example, and my hair is a bit darker.

I think to myself that I am feeling quite badly that I had not called or paid any attention to Jeff A. since the start of this "convention" and wondered if he was doing OK in this new locale.


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