My wild and weird dreams had subsided a bit for awhile, but started up again last night.
Brief description (I swear):
I'm driving my car in a mall, and no one finds this unusual. I pull up to a jewelry store, but am directed by the security guard to the "elevator" that is nearby. I park my car near the store, and walk to the elevator, which is a round room with a seat in the center where the passengers sit, facing out. A woman attempts to get on the elevator but doesn't have the $1 required; I offer to pay her fare and she gets on and thanks me. The elevator moves along back to the jewelry store.
In the jewelry store, I show the guy working there a clock I've brought with me and want to sell to him. It's pretty ugly, but still in the box, which has an orange price sticker of $44.23 on it. The clock itself is about 8 inches high, and in the shape of an architectural pediment. It's a Frank Gehry design.
The jewelry store guy gives me a long-winded and forgotten speech about clock design and profitability and ultimately announces that he can only offer me $1 for the clock. He presents me with a complex spreadsheet of figures and graphs that show the depreciation of the clock over time. I explain that I was not looking to make a profit; the clock had been a gift but I didn't want it anymore, and didn't feel right throwing or giving it away. I accept his $1 and leave the store.
Later I'm at the home of an old boyfriend who shall remain nameless. I'm asleep in his bed but he's not there. I only know which boyfriend it was because I recognize the possessions in the room, which is new to me. There's a bookshelf behind the bed that has a huge quantity of books and other items that I remember from when I last really knew this person and never really expected to see again, and the room is large and warm and the bed is large and warm, and has a beautiful red quilt on it, which I'm snuggled in.
Then the boyfriend's mother, who I also never expected to see again, comes and asks me about the clock, which I had just sold for $1. She's not angry, just curious. She was a nice lady.
And then I woke up, curled up on my right side (bad pregnant lady!) with my Boppy Total Body Pillow. The kitty had commandeered the top pillow part, and we were both pressed pretty firmly into Patrick's back, with lots of blankets covering us both. It was sweet. The dream was weird but I've read that dreaming about clocks means you're afraid you're running out of time, and that seems about accurate, considering several different things I've been talking about.
Then I realized that Patrick's alarm hadn't gone off and that he needed to get in the shower before me, so I woke him up and went back to sleep for at least 20 more minutes. I wish I could do that again right now.