Another Weird Dream

           I was at a class off some kind.  There appeared to be four to six students – each had at least one doll.  The doll was supposed to represent a baby that we had left at home.  We were sitting on couches with pillows and blankets.  I felt squashed between two students – one who was the only male participant.  And when I noticed the female student had left, I scooted over so that there was a space between me and the male student.  My vibrator seemed to get caught on his afghan – which in the dream was his afghan, but in real life it looked like one my mom had made.

          Two of the students had built a tent out of their blankets and were sitting inside.  And then our instructor appeared along with several parts for a do-it-yourself-motorbike.  

KMT

It was my turn to build/ride first.  I remember a mechanic walking out and shaking his head, and then a real-life friend –who is also a mechanic – showed up and slapped the mechanic. 

          Now in the dream, the one who slapped, started out as a person that I know well, although I forget who, someone who really was looking out for my welfare.  Gradually he turned from my familiar friend to an almost-Jay-Leno-look-alike, but thinner.  He wore a white shirt with red pinstripes – more of a baseball uniform style but with a circled patch over his left breast.  It indicated that his name was Phil.  And Phil took a hard look at my instructor and then at me and says. “If I ever see you riding this thing, I’m going to kill you” and then he gave my instructor some choice words though I couldn’t tell what they were.

etsy

          My peers then emerge from their tent and each of them is wearing a pineapple shaped barrette in her hair and they ask the instructor if they try their “picks” which are inside of the pineapples.  They remove their barrettes and open a secret compartment and one takes out a hairpin looking thing and goes up to the bike (which is no longer in parts but has been assembled sometime during the dream) and uses it to maneuver some part of the bike so that several important pieces fall to the ground.

          The instructor then takes what remains of the bike and slams it into the garbage can.  I sigh a breath of relief because I had not wanted to drive it out in the first place as I thought it would be dangerous even before Phil had warned us all that it was.

          I woke up to go to the bathroom.  I never returned to the couches or class.