Dream #1

I'm at an arts center, like the High but smaller. There is a sudden hubbub, people moving around excitedly, almost like a crime scene. Turns out a forgery has been discovered - one of the featured pieces. Patrons, workers, art people, everyone is commenting on it and giving their take. A spontaneous seminar takes place with gallery people talking about the history of "art crime" and individuals, even the waiters who are circulating with finger food and ice water, piping up with anecdotes, jokes and pointed remarks.

The atmosphere is "we're all in this together" in this spontaneous event, very convivial, a brief suspension of rich and poor, patrons and workers. It's hot, and amid the talk, people are guzzling ice water and asking for refills like there's no tomorrow. You can hear the click of ice cubes against glass all over. The waitrons are happy to oblige, whisking around with big pitchers of water, commenting on the forgery and pouring water here and there. At my table the waitron pours water into our glasses and I take a satisfying pull of clear ice cold water. The guy is just about to go away to refill the pitcher when another table nearby waves to him urgently about something. He can't do two things at once so he stands there for a second and in a moment that crosses the usual boundaries he turns to look at me, holds out the empty pitcher and asks if I would do him the favor of refilling the pitcher with water.

This is THE LOOK - our eyes are locked and a lot is going on in that look. He's taking advantage of this spontaneous democratic atmosphere, and I'm wondering why me and why should I and am I obligated. But I am thirsty so.... I say ok. He is greatly relieved and pushes the pitcher into my hands and mutters something about the kitchen being back there before rushing off to the other table.

So I get up and move uncertainly to the back of the big central room. There's no kitchen, just a sink, and I fill the pitcher. I'm just about to go back to join in the fun when I look down and notice there's just a couple of weakass little leftover ice cubes floating on the top of the pitcher. The water's cold, but its not ICE COLD. This won't do. That was the whole thing that made the water so good - the ice. I look back at what is now a party and look around for an ice machine, but there isn't any. I've got a choice to make - go back or look for ice. The ice wins.

There's a couple halls leading out of the room so I walk down one holding the pitcher of water. The sounds of the party fade and it seems the rest of the center is empty. And no ice machines. Everything looks dark, weird and eerie as I proceed. I get to a room and there's a woman there. She turns and asks, "so what should I paint?" Turns out she's here for a class and we chat and I clear up the misunderstanding. "I'm just looking for some ice" I say, hefting the pitcher by way of explanation. I ask her if there's a fridge or ice machine nearby and she gives vague directions to another part of the center, so I head off again, in search of ice for the pitcher of water.