Scarves Again

Date: 1/9/2017

At a classical music festival in the countryside. Staying in a lodge with my sister and grandma. My sister was working hard on philosophy. Jay's girlfriend kissed me. Later, we were all together with Jay at a dinner table. He was trying to be reasonable; his girlfriend was sat next to me, and tried to kiss me a couple of times. I explained to Jay it was because he was too macho. His girlfriend came on holiday with me. She said she was trying to experience the life of a freelance artist. We were in America, with Cory and others. We walked through a long field, under the canopy of trees. We were excited and rowdy, as if on a school trip. An SUV drove past us. We arrived at a series of buildings. There was nobody around. Outside one building was a pile of clothes, which had been left as a donation for homeless veterans: scarves and coats. We started taking them for ourselves. I wanted a black scarf, but couldn't see one. Our friend took a rain coat; it looked good, I told him. Cory's didn't look so good. We went into the building - it was a hotel, deserted. We looked out of the window at the view, amazed. We started taking drinks from the bar; I had a feeling we would be caught, and could see a white CCTV camera on the wall. I left to go to the toilet. There was a man standing by the urinal, not using it. I went to another one, and realised he was cruising. A cubicle door opened; out came several men - one of them was in full rubber fetish gear. Suddenly loads of men entered the toilet - perhaps twenty or thirty. A sex party! With someone stood next to me, I tried to take a stealthy photo, but my flash went off so everyone knew. The photo anyway was blurry. I woke up for a moment. Tutoring in front of my father and his friend; helping a dyslexic student write. While my father watched, the students brother came up with a blue pen and started talking to me. Angry, I grabbed the boy by the hand, holding the pen. Then, calm, I explained that he either was to leave the room or go and speak to his mother. I was pleased my father saw me stay calm, a little embarrassed to be working with children. I started marking my student's work out loud: congratulating him on a perfect sentence in the future tense. The rest of his work was written messily, with poor grammar.