On the run from a police death squad type force for apparently good reason. Decided the thing to do was lie low in an apartment building in a city whose landscape was not familiar to me. Got fed up with my sanctuary’s main resident and moved all of my things from the front room to the back bedroom where I could sit quietly and wait for whatever bad things were going to find me to come get me. There was a window in the room and I could peer out through the blinds pretty safely from time to time when I got lonely, which was often. Across the street from the apartment building was a hotel and most of the blinds were closed, but then in one of the windows, I saw this playwright I used to know occupying one of the rooms. He was staring out of the window, not at me but at the street below, at the other buildings, just kind of looking around. Beside him was a giant horse that I thought was probably plastic somehow, and when I saw that, I laughed “of course” and felt certain that it was him and not just some unfortunate man who looked like him. The problem was that I had been staring at the window for too long, trying to determine if that was in fact the person I had known and now the death squads or whatever they were knew where I was. The people who were helping me hide told me that I had to stay in the front part of the apartment because it was closer to the inside and it was less likely I would be found out until they started going door-to-door, but when left unattended, I kept getting lonely and wandering back to that window despite the danger. It got to the point where my concern for my own safety went out the window and my sole concern became seeing somebody else from a happier time in my life than the current dream one. I wandered down to the sidewalk in a poor disguise and stared up at that window for hours, even when he wasn’t there. Eventually he’d always come back and I would watch until he fell asleep and then I’d watch him sleep for a while, comforted that somewhere in the world there were people I had known who were still living their lives normally.
Dream bullshit 6