the world has turned and left me here

morphisms

Dream in which I'm in some sort of PE class. The guy is lecturing, but Jonas, who's sitting beside me, keeps talking to me in a loud voice so that eventually the teacher comes and tells him he's gonna have to "come sit up by me." It's so gradeschool. Later, we play some sort of game which no one really understands.

Class is dismissed. I'm left there looking at this stick of deodorant or something on a podium. It's branded prominently and I feel like I'm at the end of the commercial when they zoom in. I guess this company is the corporate sponsor of the PE class?

Upon closer inspection it turns out to be a digital camera. But not just any digital camera; when not in use, this one images you and tries to respond in human ways. It's lensing and moving around now, studying me. It starts mimicking what I do. I eat something, and it gobbles up this metal ball. I'm worried it will choke.

Actually it's not a humanoid digital camera, it's a girl. I show my disapproval and she spits out the ball and walks off.

I go indoors. As I walk around, I start to realize how huge this place is: everything's interconnected, from people's houses to classrooms to fields like the one we played on. Some sort of huge complex. I'm meeting up with my dad. We're going to a party at another professor's house.

He flags me down and we start walking side-by-side and talking until we reach a crowded escalator, where we separate. Looking down on the back of his head I'm shocked to see that he has added blonde highlights. There are people speaking German behind me.

We meet up with some other older people who are also going to the party. Perhaps they know the way. One of them is what you would call a "neat lady," that is to say she looks like an old hippie and is still pretty free with what she does. When we reach a room with a grand piano and a strange harp in it, she sits down at the piano and starts playing very affectedly, improvising as she goes. As she transitions to the next chord she displays extreme pleasure with her choice. In fact, her pleasure becomes so great that her moans start to drown out the music. The onlookers become embarrassed.

The piano is now a folding lap keyboard like the one Rachmaninoff supposedly practiced the 3rd on, during his trans-Atlantic flight. She finishes.

"And there's the young married couple," somebody says in a delighted tone of voice. Indeed, there's another room to the side that opens into the piano room, and I see through the doorway a young couple lounging around.