fog, art, live music

Date: 8/10/2016

I was with Doug L at some outdoor event. It was dusk and getting darker. We were encountering thick fog, and he wanted to walk with me through the fog. I thought it was very cool, but also frightening. At first I had agreed to walk through the fog was him. But then something stopped me because of my fear. We may have been on the block where I lived as a young child. The fog startied to lift somewhat, and I agreed to go as long as the fog was continuing to lift. We were near buildings and concrete was under our feet. Doug took my hand and we proceeded to walk toward the fog. The way he took my hand was as a friend, and nothing romantic. It was a way for us to not lose each other. i looked around us to ensure our safety, and noticed an older man following us and eavesdropping. He saw I noticed him and then left us alone. As the fog continued to lift a little more, we progressed a little further. I was again very intrigued but also worried about safety. We were no longer alone, and other people were also walking through the fog like it was a ride in an amusement park. I normally don't like to be near a lot of people, but their presence made me feel safer. We encountered some smokers and I make it plain that the smoke was bothering me by waving my hand in my face and dodging their own "fog" of smoke they were creating. We encountered some artwork of a globe with some ribbons around different areas. Someone released the ribbons, as they seemed to represent oppression, and everyone cheered. I made a comment that as lovely as that gesture was, it didn't change the political landscape one bit. It was a symbolic gesture and I pointed out the obvious, not being in the same "sheeple" mood or mindset as those around me. Suddenly we were inside and I heard a Simon and Garfunkel song “Homeward Bound." We followed the sound and discovered Simon and Garfunkel actually playing live! We got up front and the only thing separating us was the table with their instruments. Art Garfunkel was to my right, playing the table with his drumsticks. Paul Simon was to my left, playing an instrument I've never seen before, using some other hand-held thing. He moved it across what looked like beeswax or honey and it made an impression that disappeared after a few seconds. I didn't know where the sounds were that Simon was making, but then started to imagine I was able to hear it. Some tall woman cut in front of me. I had noticed that I bumped elbows with Paul Simon and thought that was cool, so that experience made the rude woman's act less bothersome. Dream ends.