Dream Journal
Steve asked me what I did with B’s sunglasses. They were in my purse. Steve told me that I have to throw them away but I didn’t want to.
Steve, B, and I went into a hotel room together. There was a huge pot of beans and whole potatoes cooking on the stove. B helped me move the heavy pot, and I wondered how he would take it if I kissed him on the cheek. He goes into the bathroom and I lied down on one of the two beds, curled into a fetal position on my left side.
Steve lied down on top of the covers facing me, but I don’t straighten my legs, instead I kept my knees between us. Steve told me again that I had to throw away B’s sunglasses. They were the ones I gave him as a Christmas present one year with the interchangeable lenses. Steve told me how important it is and why I needed to throw them away, but I was feeling depressed and didn’t want to get out of bed.
B came back in and started to scoop out the bean & potato soup. I jumped up and told him to stop, remembering that I hadn’t seasoned it at all, not even with any salt. I made him pour it all back into the over — the soup was no longer in its pot, but was just sitting in the bottom of the oven.
There wasn’t as much soup as I had remembered, and I wasn’t sure how much salt to add. The potatoes were still whole, but soft. The soup wasn’t very hot. I wondered how I was going to get it out of the oven.