This morning I had more dreams.
Mark and I were (apparently) at Arcosanti, but it was more like a converted high school and less like a concrete experiment in Urban Dwelling. I have a sense of lots of concrete walls, bright light, and no outside views. We had a room, and we were trying to be lascivious, but people kept wandering into our apartment. It turned out Mary Hoadley (one of the site managers of Arcoanti, and the only clue to the setting) had given us a room that was part of a reading laboratory / job counseling center. Since the larger room's services were available, people felt they had the right to traipse through the room we were renting. "If I had known," I said to Mark, "that Mary was going to give us this room, I would have never booked it."
I was furious. I told people this part of the center was a privately rented room. I moved furniture in front of the doors connecting our room to the center. I locked our front door; but mostly college-aged girls (and their mothers) kept pushing their way in. A 20-something woman insisted that it was her moral imperative (as a woman) that she be allowed to go through our door and how dare I pretend to be unable to unlock it.
Somehow connected to this was another vignette. I was walking along in a kind of slum / shopping mall. During my wandering, I stepped through a kind of back alley / parking lot filled with people (jeans and plaid) lying on the floor in some kind of drugged haze. A 20-something hooker-type asked me if I would be interested in buying a hit of the hallucinogen.
I shook my head no.
"Come on," she said, "Would you like to do it for the visions? How about because it makes you feel real good?" I kept walking. "For the cultural experience?"
I laughed. "You almost had me for the cultural experience," I said, "but no." I stepped over some more prone bodies and around a hedged corner.