Salad, Hair Ties and Black Trash Bags

I was standing at the tiny counter in the kitchen of the last house my family and I lived in together.  There was plenty of counter space in that kitchen, but there was this floor cabinet that held our eating utensils and it had a small counter on top.

I was making a salad after having cleaning some lettuce. I’d put it into a salad spinner to store in the fridge and then as I pulled lettuce out of it for myself, the spinner turned into a large black plastic trash bag.

Kim Kardashian walked by and the lettuce turned into button down long sleeve dress shirts with crazy designs.

I seem to remember some confusion and frustration but the confusion wasn’t as strong as the frustration pertaining to how the shirts just kept coming and coming.

After this, as I still stood at the counter, still trying to make a salad, taking longer than it should, my sister stood across from me and we were talking. The wind started blowing hard then, through the kitchen window. It was to my right, above the stove. My hair blew all over the place, making it difficult to keep it out of my face.

My sister asked, “Do you have a hair tie?”

I said, “I do, but I don’t know exactly where they are.” And I began rummaging through something on our small table in the kitchen…with no luck in finding a hair tie.

I didn’t want to go downstairs to my bedroom (I had a custom built bedroom in the basement of this house for a while) because I didn’t want my sister to get distracted and not come back to our convo.

I went around into the living room (sister in tow) and looked in a desk that was right there on the wall opposite the kitchen. (IRL, the desk wasn’t really there but on another wall in the living room.)

My sister and I were still talking about hair ties and finding one.But she also asked me something about a salad…I think she asked if there was more lettuce and I took it to mean she wanted a salad. So I went back to the kitchen and reached in the back to check for the spinner.

Then I went downstairs to look for a hair tie, while she took a look in her room down the hall.

In my room, I looked inside a wooden box on top of my dresser. (A tall chest of drawers and the box was a handmade wood box I use for jewelry.) I had to dig to the bottom of the right, back corner before I found one.

My sister appeared at my door-way while I was pushing through all the clutter inside the box and asked if I’d found one.

I pulled out two. One yellow and one black. I chose the yellow one and started putting my hair up in a pony tail. But then, what was supposed to be the hair tie became a red powder that I smeared onto a pane of glass that was upright and leaning against on wall.

After this weirdness I turned to look at the room. I was a guest and was going to sleep in this room. I walked through and mentioned that I needed to find my futon and it was then I realized how late it was and how disorganized I was. And that I had no idea where any of the sleeping material was.  I was also feeling tired and finding something to sleep on felt urgent but I didn’t show it.

By this time, my brother was down there with us too. After I’d talked about sleeping in that room and finding my futon, I turned to see a huge pile of big black trash bags that I knew were full of my brother’s stuff.

I said, “I’m sleeping in here.”

My sister left the basement, going back upstairs and it was just my brother and me.

It’s not clear what he replied but the way he replied was calm. He said something along the lines of needing to put his stuff in there but it’s not necessary for him to sleep in there.

He made a funny but martyr-like comment in a very calm and non-confronting, non-aggressive tone with a really gentle look on his face.

We knew we weren’t the only guests in the house and space was limited. (Remember the Kim K. kitchen walk through?)

I said to my brother, “I don’t mind sleeping in the same room with you. We can just put our beds far away from each other.” (Something along those lines. My exact wording isn’t clear to me now.)

In this dream, I was aware of the tension but my two siblings didn’t seem to be. I didn’t feel afraid of them or nervous. I didn’t even feel fake or like I was forcing myself to be ‘nice.’ Being in each other’s flowed and the interaction came naturally, like it used to. There was no elephant in the room and we were just ‘normal’ siblings.

I also had this strange sense that what happened between us then (whatever was going on in the dream) had the power to dictate how we behaved toward each other in the future.