I am in a large hospital ward/art studio atelier with large windows and high ceilings. It is a sunny day outside. The room is filled with easels, tables and students. Outside the room, there is a stairwell in the centre of this old building and you can see down to main lobby. We are on the third floor/mezzanine.
XY (an actor/filmmaker and youth from my art/film program) is in the south east corner by his easel and big table. He is working on his animation project. He takes his “drawing” off the easel and puts it on the table next to him. It is actually not a drawing but one frame of cellulose nitrate film, 3 by 3 feet in size. We discuss his work and he picks up the film frame and puts it back on his easel.
His girlfriend, XX, is standing shyly by the easel on our left. He introduces her to me and she nods, shyly. I enthusiastically extend my hand to her and exclaim, “My goodness, great to finally meet you!” I ask her something else and she happily starts to answer.
XY interjects, and points his finger at XX and in an aggressive tone says to her, “Did I tell you you could fucking talk?” I assume he is trying to be funny and throw him a look of what the?
But XX looks scared. She starts to speak. XY lunges towards her. In my shock, I push him back aggressively against his canvas. He lunges back, pushing past me and punches XX in the head. I scream and push him back again and block him from XX.
I grab XX by the shoulders and she and I quickly weave our way through the students, tables, easels towards the door. Across the mezzanine, there is an emergency clinic. We run into the clinic and I yell at the woman behind the counter that XX is in trouble, in pain and needs protection. The women in the clinic immediately take action and give us a safe room close to the nurse’s station. There is an unspoken understanding that XY will show up any second.
The room has no door, nor curtain. A woman in a giant red or rainbow spiral lollipop costume comes and stands in the doorway. She fully blocks the entrance to the room. She is facing in and she has a serious, yet comforting, look on her face. This is just another day for her and she is trained for it.
We wait for XX to be examined.
I do not know what is going on outside.
I find the characters and symbols in this dream fascinating. And perhaps they are just me processing a mishmash in my brain and perhaps they are all aspects of me.
I am curious about the lollipop woman.
The night before last, as I was falling asleep, I was feeling anxious about how to help a family member, and my mom’s voice whispered clearly in my ear- Let me take that on. I felt an enormous sense of relief. The last thing my mom ever bought before she died was two rainbow lollipop for my son and daughter.