Up the celery slide

I walk up the celery slide into a fancy hotel, and there's a guy with a towel tied bandanna-style over his face. He asks an employee in checkered shorts something I don’t hear, and the employee leads him into a hotel room up the stairs, where he hands over a suspicious package wrapped in brown paper to a house-elf wearing a tea towel. I follow because I want to see how chlorinated the water is. I notice the bed under a ceiling painting of Elvis ice-skating on a frozen pond next to a fruiting pear tree, is rumpled. I drink the water out of a bar sink, and it tastes ok.

The towel-faced guy leaves the room and heads into the commercial part of the hotel. The stairs are full of people! Crowded! I don't try to follow the guy because he's spry and I'm not, but I do get myself to the top of the stairs, passing the wall of grandmas, and the mechanical bull, and run into him. I call him "arbitrarily careful guy" out loud, and he pulls me into a lounge area where we eye gaze. He asks me to explain why I call him that, and I don't remember much until I think that I want a pen, and a lady in blue marigolds gives me one without asking, and I write my phone number on a dollar bill, even though I have a bunch of scrap paper in my purse. The phone number isn't legible (because it's a dream) but he says he gets it and already knows it by heart. He tells me he thinks I'm hot. I smile and leave.

And then I run into him again, outside in the parking lot! He's coming towards me from the opposite direction, smiling at me and holding a giant plastic marigold flower, all cartoon emoji face. We look for my spaceship together, but we can't find it. I'm mildly upset because I just worked on my latest book, and it's stored locally, but I keep breathing and don't say anything.

We run into rough guys roughing people up, and I walk up the loading dock lined in flashing green lights to interrupt and ask face to face if they've seen my spaceship. They tell me it was towed. I'm incredulous because it's like a mall parking lot, and I can't believe there'd be a reason to tow my ride, but they say the fascists are now towing vehicles that look like there are knitting supplies in them. I don't realize they're mocking me, and admit I have a crochet hook in the glove compartment. Everyone does mock big eyes and I still don't get they're mocking me.

I go off with my mobile phone to find the signs with the towing company phone number, but when I go to call, the line is already connected, and I hear a recording that's telling me something about the government. I try to hang up so I can make my call, and eventually I realize it's unemployment calling me, but I've gotten my benefits, and don't feel like talking to them, but there's nothing else I can do but listen on hold. Putting my phone on my shoulder to free my hands, I write down the number for the tow company (there's a marigold flower pen stuck through a hole next to a small black notebook under the sign) and I hand it to the towel-faced guy who is no longer wearing a face covering, and ask him to help me call about my ride because I can't get an outgoing line.

He walks away and comes back and tells me they found my crochet hook, and my computer, and I have to go see the tribunal. I tell him my spaceship is my house, and he tells me the reason he came to the hotel just canceled. Then he hands me a laundry bag stuffed with currency and tells me to pay it forward - before melting into a shimmering puddle of goo.

And then I wake up!

I tried to go back to sleep, to get back to the parking lot, but dawn was coming (here, and there) and everyone was gone.

I don't write down dreams often, but this one demanded to be...