Obvious Issues & Unconventional Cemeteries

Wednesday 11-5-14

The title says it all, really.  Sometimes I attempt dream interpretation.  Other times, the meaning is glaringly blatant.  I have some major issues with friendship.  Ok, well, that's not news.  Not exactly surprising.  But this isn't hand-holding feeling-gushing time so we will just leave it at that.  The cemetery bit?  I have no idea.  Hah.  I've been watching "The Originals," hence the New Orleans motif.  And I was looking up 'things to do in St. Augustine' today.  Combine the two and I guess that's what you get.  Anyhow, without further adieu....

I am a passenger on a train, running away from something.  It is not the hurried kind of running away, but rather the kind where you are attempting to leave something behind.  We pick up other passengers here and there, and the conductor announces where they are from when they board.

I am tired, clutching a plush sack, and staring out the window.

At some point I am sitting next to a friend that looks just like Caze but has nothing of her personality.  She gets up from her seat next to me and crosses over me to the aisle, saying that she has to pee.  Without any further pretense, she promptly plops herself in the same seat, one row up.  She immediately begins ranting to her new train partner about me.  The unsuspecting passenger is a young blond woman with a kind face.  The former friend who looks just like Caze accuses me of not letting her use her hair products and stealing her belongings.  I try to defend myself in the misunderstanding of the hair product incident, but have no idea about her missing items.  Not that it matters, as she ignores my rebuttals by ranting through them.  In anger and frustration, I thrust myself towards the seats in front of me to speak my mind.  I sound like an insolent child, but I spit at my accuser: “Everyone leaves me.  Even you!”  My words are ignored, of course.

As an added sting, both figuratively and literally, she begins to use her beloved aforementioned hair products.  Dispensed from an irrationally loud aerosol can, the concoction that supposedly supplies necessary moisture to the demon girl’s hair, indirectly sprays straight behind her to where I am now sitting.  The spray burns my eyes before I have time to cry in protest and cower behind the back of her train seat.  It continues to burn my exposed skin, and I try to shove my hunched form ever deeper between the crevasse of her seat and mine.  She never seems to stop spraying.

Time lapses in the way that time does in dreams, and I am sitting sideways in my seat, facing the windows.  I am alone now, and defeated.  I lay my head to the left, against my seat, and notice the lethargic gentleman in the row behind me.  His expression is blank, his mouth is slightly ajar, and he is so pale that he is slightly blue.

Cemetery from dream

Excitement erupts when some passengers take notice of famous New Orleans cemeteries approaching.  I am on the left-hand side of the train and the cemeteries will pass on the right.  Although I am interested, I have never been one to show as much enthusiasm about, well, anything.  As we pass the three different cemeteries, I recall researching and seeing pictures of these exact tourist attractions.  They’re incredibly popular, as each of them appears both ancient and appropriately macabre, and draw even more tourism due to their ocean views.  I know that New Orleans cemeteries don’t look like these, as theirs are traditionally above-ground crypts and mausoleums. But here they were, so who was I to argue?

actual New Orleans cemetery

One of the train passengers, thrilled about the happenstance of tourism, pleaded with the driver to do another pass by the sights.  Apparently my train was more of a bus upon a whim.  I shared with the excited young woman how I had read about these cemeteries when researching activities to be done in the city.  As our bus-train contraption prepared itself for another pass, I readied my phone to take snapshots.  The sun was setting, but eerily bright.  It gave the sky a luminous blood red glow.  The prospect of photos made excited girl all the more enthusiastic.  It had now become quite important to her that I get pictures of the cemeteries.  For some reason, this made it more important to me.

As is always true in my dreams, however, I struggled to operate my cumbersome phone, as well as my cumbersome form when attempting to scramble over to the windows to get the shot.  Predictable dream self.