I was making a quick stop at DW’s house on the way to another city (I would figure out later that it was NYC). I didn’t see most of their house, including the living room, dining room, and kitchen, all of which seemed to be off limits. Instead, I was restricted to a bedroom and/or sitting room.
When I tried to use the bathroom, I found that the doorway was so narrow that I couldn’t fit through it. I used the one in the master bedroom once, but had the impression that that was frowned upon. I found another bathroom that was set up almost like a salon, with a woman or two sitting on chairs in a waiting area. I turned to close the door for privacy, but there was none, not even a curtain. This door was also unusually narrow.
In the bed-/sitting room, a green toilet seat flapped up and down erratically and mysteriously.
Every now and then I would open a door and, instead of a bathroom, I would find an ocean scene with a witch from Wicked astride the waves. I didn’t know what to think.
Then there was a game that involved racing herb leaves down the length of the pan. I did well, but discovered only later that the leaves would follow the finger like a magnet. Finally, I accidentally flipped the pan over and panicked about losing leaves. All of them were accounted for.
I wondered how my friends could live in such a strange, chaotic place, but noticed that they still retained their old values from childhood.
I told DW I was going to meet a friend in NYC. When she looked at me inquiringly, I looked at her significantly, which surprised her. I began to imagine this liaison, although even in my imagination it did not happen as I wished.
I remembered that I didn’t yet have a ticket to NYC and wondered at myself for doing so much flying in such a short time. I felt disappointed because I knew I could not pull it off — there must have been a miscommunication somewhere.
And I kept encountering the Wicked witch, atop the waves.