Floating above the waterways of an oasis, doing that thing where I breathe to get higher. I get higher than my companions behind me, only to grab stray palm fronds and debris, which of course sinks me lower. The oasis itself appears once inhabited yet now abandoned. We start scavenging some apartments. There’s a shower that made an impression, boxy white plastic at the front of a low-ceiling hallway, a thin plastic curtain evoking sadness with the strong impression it relates of a human not there anymore. Another space we raid is a deck with a hollow space underneath, which turns out to be filled with Christmas presents, already labeled with names and notes. The notes are sometimes for people we know — a kid who’s not there, her family. We actually do find a lingering resident, sitting dully facing a TV. His recognition of us could be dangerous, and he has to be neutralized.
A long walk in a long train station — reminds me of platforms of big city train stations I went to in Italy. But the actual route I’m taking is via this very long train platform, with a building at the end, on the horizon. It’s a landmark, possibly a destination. I’m missing school walking here. Perhaps school is my destination.
I’m reminded of another part, perhaps out of order: when we got off a train at a rural platform, for a supposed switchover. There are several of us, a distinct group, who get off for the train on a parallel set of tracks. But it never comes. Instead, the train we got off of speeds away in what clearly feels like a trick. If we don’t catch up to it quickly, we’ll be left behind, and you just know we’ll be blamed for it somehow. Maybe this is how I missed school.
As I come up toward the station proper, I look to the right. There’s an old building that might’ve been a barracks, tall, almost neglected looking. There’s a big patch of moss covering the front of the house. But as I look carefully at it I see the furniture of rich people still living in the old place. Somewhere between the venerable age, the good location, and the disposable wealth to ignore expensive quirks of building maintenance, the place is surprisingly prestigious. Despite having no other indicators of being in San Francisco, this feels like a very San Francisco situation.
Off the back of the fancy folks moss barracks there’s a cliff into a wild green gully or canyon of suchlike. A possum drops off this cliff. I don’t remember much more.
At my friend S’s house (of P&S), there’s a plastic stormtrooper outfit that I try to fit on. The set appears to be missing boots though, so I have to wear my own shoes with the outfit laying over them. It looks a bit silly but maybe it won’t matter, or maybe we’ll find the boots.
Title is actually when this was: I went to a very nice birthday party today, that was Christmas-themed. Seems oddly specific though. Feels like it could be a weird dream reference, but that’s just what it was.