First dream

I was at church, at once in service in the balcony -- but this was in the old building, and not even that, but a dream-version of it -- and at lunch with my pastor and a woman who was with a Spanish-speaking church or league of some kind. (La Leche League, perhaps? How Freudian, if so.)

My pastor spoke Spanish with the woman; he wasn't very good at it -- his accent was too American -- but I did not correct or augment him. I knew more Spanish than he did, but was unwilling to use it. I had the sense it would have taken too much work for me to really focus, and too much courage for me to really try. And I would never know everything there was to know about Spanish, never be really fluent, so it seemed like something I could never really start.

But the woman spoke English, too, so it wasn't vital to communicate in Spanish.

I wasn't disturbed by being at church, despite my real-life misgivings, and the dream-height of the balcony from the rest of the sanctuary, which was three times the real-life height. A choir sang, and my pastor gave a sermon, though I don't remember any of its content.

I left a note on the balcony for two younger members; they got it as they were coming up the stairs. I don't know what it said.

In a different scene, Tyler had found a loophole for getting a duplicate ID online by claiming you had just come from Mexico. He'd chosen to get his alternate driver's license issued by Virginia, and it was made into a small burlap sachet he wore around his neck with his picture and ID number printed on the front of the cloth. It had something in it, but didn't seem to smell like potpourri the way you might expect. I decided to have mine issued from Pennsylvania and had just started the application process when I woke up.