DealLaw

Thursday, March 24, 2011

My buddy Mike and I enter a bar that I recognize as “Mac’s Two Lounge” in Billerica, MA, a seedy 18-plus strip club. The place looks nothing on the inside like it does in real life. In the dream, it is a narrow, short room, with a small stage (about the size of a restaurant booth table) connected to the wall by a door and has a pole in the middle. The “stage” is surrounded by a red faux leather booth, in which is seated all manner of seedy and unsavory individuals; ash trays are strewn about the booth and there is no dancer on stage.

At the other end of the room is a small bar with four stools in front of it bolted to the floor. A few patrons occupy these stools. The room is filled with cigarette smoke and I remember thinking that it was strange that smoking would be allowed in such an establishment, as Massachusetts has banned smoking in bars and restaurants. I am also concerned that my wife will smell the smoke on my clothes and know that I was at a strip club.

There is nowhere for my friend and I to sit, so we just stand around waiting for something to open up. I tell Mike that this is a weak scene and that we should leave because there are no girls dancing and there is nowhere to sit. As I say the last part, two people who were sitting in the booth at the other end of the room disappear (which triggers no lucidity in me whatsoever) and Mike and I take their seats immediately.

The only thing I remember next is waking up and performing my RC.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

I am in a parking garage. The garage is filled with numerous cars parked between white pillars, just as one would find in any such garage. The ceiling of this garage is incredibly low, to the point where I must duck to move about, as such it is just above the roofs of the parked cars. At one point, the ceiling become so low that I must crawl to move about, bringing on feelings of claustrophobia; there are no cars in this part of the garage.

I find my car in an area of the garage where the ceiling is of a normal height. I get in the driver’s side and am speaking to my best friend Mike, who is sitting in the passenger’s seat. I do not know if he accompanied me to my car or was already there when I got in. As we speak, I see a kid that we went to high school with walk by the car and out the door to the exit stairs, he accompanied by several people that I cannot make out from my vantage point. I turn to Mike, “hey, that was Ted from school.” Mike readily agrees that it was and we exit the car, heading for the exit door.

Upon moving through the doorway, we are in a run-down hallway with white cement walls. Up ahead the hallway narrows considerably and there is sunlight in that direction. As we move forward, Ted and his entourage approach from the direction of the sunlight. They squeeze past us without acknowledging us, nor us them. I remember thinking that Ted’s sister was hot back in the day.

Now I am at the scene of a car accident in which I am not involved. I am standing by off to the side chatting with a police officer while the two drivers involved argue and try to exchange insurance information.

Next thing I remember is waking up and performing an RC.