Back in Perugia

I travel back to Perugia, Italy with my friend, Lindsay P. We're so excited to be back, but everything seems different; in fact, it isn't Perugia by sight, only in name. We're still excited to be in Italy, but somewhat confused. We walk around the old buildings and seek out somewhere to eat and have a cigarette. We come to Piazza Gallenga, but the building for Stranieri is boarded up and closed. This shocks us. As we begin our adventure Lindsay turns into Carly G, my roommate while living in Italy. She and I continue our trek with bags on our backs. We meet a man, who we think we know from before, but we aren't certain. Regardless, we follow him. He takes us to an apartment and tells us we can stay there. The apartment is multiple floors that are cluttered with furniture and statues of the religious sort---mostly Eastern as opposed to a Christian god or saints. There are many plants too. We are slightly uncomfortable, but we try to settle in. In the kitchen we find a brown paper bag and in it is money---most $1s and $5s, but we take some of it for food. The guy who brought us here leads us to believe that this apartment belongs to Italians and that they have allowed him to use it, and bring friends there.
In the kitchen there are also three showers---more like drains in the floor with a shower head attached. We think it's weird, but think, "oh, that must be how Italians live." We go upstairs to begin unpacking when we hear a group of people come into the apartment. We're sort of scared because we don't know if we really should be there, and because we took some of the money from the paper bag. After hiding upstairs a while one of the men come upstairs; he doesn't talk, but we follow him back downstairs. We make our way to the crowded living space (couches and plants and statues) and we sit down. Carly and I both note that all of the males kind of resemble David and Brandon, our partners back home---they all have dark hair and full beards. Everyone is male but us. We assume these people are Italian, and think that we won't be able to clearly communicate with them. One of them motions to us, and we assume he wants us to tell him why we are there; we tell him our Italian friends own the place, but he laughs and begins to speak to us in English. He tells us: "we own this place and we are American." We are very nervous now, and we both glance at the paper bag on the kitchen counter hoping that they won't notice that money is missing from it. One guy goes for the bag and we begin to think of excuses as to why we must leave hurriedly. We don't even retrieve our bags. We run down several flights of stairs and fear the men are chasing us. We reach outside and run around several corners until finally at the top of a hill we come to a large and busy piazza where we feel safe that we will blend in.

Directions, breasts and garlic

In the first sequence, I am arguing with my younger brother and one of my older female friends. We are debating hand written directions; my friend and brother are seeing the words in very different ways. When I look at the page I see the words, "Jarvis" and "Seraphina", but they see completely different words. I assume that they are wrong because I recall these street names in my mind--I recall driving these streets in my recent past.
My friend suddenly grows upset. She tells me she is embarrassed by her legs because they look and smell like garlic. She tells me that she takes too many garlic supplements for some health reason. I tell her that I have some garlic medication that might help her.
In the next sequence I am fielding emails from would-be employers. In one a man sends back a one-liner about my "tits". I turn to my husband and say, "Well, I ain't working there!" He agrees.
Later, I am in an apartment that I don't recognize. One of my female cousins is there; she seems inebriated. She carries a wine glass around and tells me that it is a candy cane drink in it, but she is slurring her words and she looks quite disheveled. I become annoyed with her when she places her glass sloppily on me and my husband's desk. She laughs. I am dressed in a long gown and my hair is wavy--half up and half down. The dress is weird--like something an older woman would wear, but it fits me nicely. As I study my reflection I realize my belly---I have a small pregnant belly. I place my hand on and view it from the side--I must only be a few months because it is defined but small.

the scary dream that comes back every time you fall asleep again

The first is creepy: I am in a bed, not my own, and a youngish guy gets in with me. He is heavyset and creepy (not that heavyset folks are creepy, he just happened to be both). I fall asleep and he begins touching me. My stomach turns. I get out of the bed and his parents come in to rescue me. They seem like nice people; they have trustworthy faces, or so I believe.

They tell me that I can sleep with them. We all slide into bed and I feel safe. At some point though the father begins to touch me, and I freak out. The mother freaks out too and she reveals to me that her son has touched her too. I am disgusted and confused. I feel betrayed by the father who pretended to be caring.

Next scene: I am in a big, old house with my husband and our dog and friends and family. We are preparing for what I believe is a Halloween party because there are costumes lying around the rooms and the decorations are a bit dark. On one side of a big wooden staircase a young guy is setting up some kind of contraption---he is the first to be killed and the people around me don't seem overly scared or worried about the situation. Suddenly though a woman's scream causes alarm. One of my female cousins is shrieking and pointing at our dog. She keeps blubbering about her "sister". Our dog hops up on the old couch and we can see she has something in her mouth. Beneath the cushion and behind the couch I notice coffins that have been opened and rummaged through. The dog has a dead baby in her mouth---my cousin's sister who died in 1976. Someone grabs the baby and our dog runs away.

Meanwhile, other party-goers are turning up dead. I decide to get out while I can. I call for my husband but he is nowhere to be found. In the kitchen the back door is open and I run through it; I call to our dog and she starts to come, but then turns around and decides to stay. I run from the wooded yard to the sidewalk. The neighborhood seems quiet, but I don't run to any of the neighboring houses fearful that they may be involved, or that the murderer is lurking in one of their homes. Even though I haven't been harmed I have the strange sense that I am the intended target to terrify. I walk briskly down the street. I see a police SUV turning onto the street, and though I want to call out I am still wary. I let him pass and watch as he pulls into a parking garage of sorts. Another police man drives by, and he too pulls into the garage. I figure that is a safe place to go for help.

I make my way to the mouth of the garage and find that it is under a hospital. With a group of workers I enter the building following their lead. As we step onto an elevator I realize I need to go in another direction to reach the police. I jump off before the doors close and pass through a set of doors that lead to locker room scene. Each area is closed off for a different group of workers: police, medics, firemen, etc. Their areas have swinging doors to them with small plastic windows. I look through the first and see a group of policemen in various states of resting and I walk in.

They are surprised by my appearance. I look into their faces and they seem trustworthy. They are mostly older men with bright blue eyes, but the one who approaches me first is younger and has olive skin and dark eyes; his nose is wide and seems flattened--like he's been in a few fights. He asks me what's wrong, and I make sure to remain calm because I know my story sounds unbelievable. I tell him about the dead baby and the people being killed. He listens patiently.

unravel the details

I am in a city that I don't recognize. My cousin's store has moved to this city, so I assume I am there to see her. The street is wide; there's a gas station across the street and a tall tenement building on the side of the street where I am. There are lots of trees. I walk to her store. When I get there I remember that she recently told me that she emptied her front room; I think she is renovating. When I walk in I am stunned that the place is a mess. The front room has nothing but ladders and dry wall torn down in it. In another, smaller, room there is trash on the floor and two baskets on the floor with unfolded sweat pants (hot pink) in the them. I'm confused.

I am in the store and a woman comes up to me with three frilly tank tops for girls. She mentions that they are some fancy brand (Christian Dior?), but there are no price tags on them. I have no idea how to price such things and look for my cousin to ask her, but she is gone. I am walking through the store with a tank top in hand wondering where the hell she went. The woman leaves, and later my cousin returns. She seems "off" and I ask her what's up. She tells me that she is more focused on her second (night) job. I don't ask too many questions because she seems somewhat secretive. She only drops hints about "training" and that it's a sexy job. She tells me the work takes place in a basement. I'm alarmed.
---
I am taken to a large home; I am being offered the property as a rental. The furnishings are beautiful with the exception of a few pleather pieces. The house is sprawling and the back side is all windows that look at onto cliffs or dunes---they are close enough to touch if you open the large (floor to ceiling) windows. At the back end of one of the sitting rooms there is a class door; I pull it open and there are wooden steps that lead down a slope. The cliff wall, or dune wall, is close enough to touch, and I do. I walk to the bottom of the steps and it's like a secret city. On my right there is a canal, and there are other homes along it. To my left the cliff/dune recedes and I can see a small beach and the ocean is lapping up the beach. I can walk to the beach by simply hopping over the rocks. It is quiet and peaceful; everything has a rock-gray color to it and a sleepy feeling.

Suddenly I notice a group of kids and they are rollicky and laughing. When they see me I can sense they are curious of this stranger. They grow snippy and seem afraid of my arm. I half kid, half mock them and show them my arm more closely. They follow me up the stairs to my house, but I don't want them to come inside. I stand in the doorway, and they ask me questions. A man appears in the house behind me. He looks like a tired musician. His hair is wild and black; his beard is days old. I don't recognize him, but the kids seem to.

Life's a beach!

I am on a beach with people I don't recognize, but I think my husband is nearby. We are playing a game--sorta like catch. People are throwing rocks up at the/into the sky and other people are catching them. I am nervous and covering my head. I run around the beach and find some large rocks that have been thrown: one is gold and one is silver; they are the smoothest rocks I have ever felt. A player comes up to me and says that people can't throw rocks like that because someone will get hurt. I agree and continue to admire the lovely gem-like rocks.

---
In the garage of the house I grew up in. My father's current wife is there with her three daughters. She asks me to pose for pictures with them. Suddenly I have a false memory of wedding photos with these girls and I wonder where the photographs have been hiding.

---
I am being ogled by men who I went to high school with. One guy keeps telling people that he is going to get me pregnant. I see a guy who I like and he is leading a group of kids through a museum. I begin to try to catch up with him. He sees me as I walk through the door, and waits just enough time to let me notice him, then he begins leading the children up a huge hill. I begin walking up the hill and my feet feel leaden---it takes all of my energy to make it up the hill, but I do. At the top, the guy takes me to a bookstore in the neighborhood and I help set up the books.

nightmare

my husband and I are living in the house I lived in as a teen. We have my old bedroom even. It is night and I'm not aware of anyone else living in the house with us. My husband comes from the bathroom after readying for bed. The room is dark; just as he begins to climb into bed we hear a low, dying doorbell. It's so late and so dark that we decide to ignore it. We don't hear it again. In the middle of the night I decide to get us up to investigate. We walk from bedroom to bedroom and each is cluttered beyond belief, and---yet again---the light bulbs are burned out. We make our way to the ground floor and we find that the front door is cracked open---I am terrified thinking that someone may be hiding, lurking in the house. We stick close together and start in towards the living room--the room is dark.

disturbia

a hybrid of my childhood home and the house we moved to when I was a teen...I am in the backseat of a car with two of my siblings; in the front is my mom and her abusive ex boyfriend. I am stupefied that she is back with him. I don't know where we are going, but I want out. I pretend to fall sick, and even go so far as to fake vomit into my hand. My little brother is asleep beside me. We get to the house and I find that none of the light bulbs work. I can only find one lamp that provides illumination. I find my mom curled up on a bed in what was once my bedroom with my older sister. She is looking for a phone number; I tell her we have to fix the lights and get the jerk out of our lives. Once I appear determined to get to work she sets her number book down and seems to decide that she'll let me take care of matters. I am disgusted. I go to work though and decide that I am leaving as soon as I finish; if she screws up at that point it's all her problem.