Another Tower

     

    There have been several skyscrapers and towers in my dreams, each presenting its own unique puzzle or mystery for me to decipher. This was a building on par with or double the height of the Burj Khalifa. We were tourist, only visiting for the day having to change elevators to continue upward to reach the highest observation decks. We reached one viewing level after having to traverse an obstacle of sorts. The elevator was on the other side of a long drop, so each of us had to shimmy our way across the small ledge, while hugging the marble wall like Indiana Jones or the Fellowship of the Ring. When the elevator door opened we were met with a blast of cyclonic wind - my trepidation was at its peak as several people stepped off to enjoy the view. I was in a panic, knowing that higher up the winds would be unbearable - making our attempt to enjoy the height almost impossible. Sensing my unease, the rest of the group decided that it would be too much for me and we exited the elevator after reaching the top then traveling back down to the level with the obstacle. I’m always the party-poop.

    I was against making the precarious crawl against the building again, even though this first crossing had cured me of my fear of heights. My concern was the safety of the rest of the party who had to make the crossing. I asked “Isn’t there another way past this?” My wife said “Sure, we just have to go through this exit door” pointing to a door to the side that was marked as an “Alarm will sound” so I didn’t want to push the exit bar. A security guard in full “Mall Cop” regalia comes out of nowhere pulling a set of keys from a large ring clipped to his utility belt and lets us through the door. Seeing the guard reminded me the inside of the building reminded me of the mall from so many dreams. We stepped through the doorway and an elevator was being boarded to capacity across the way. We hurried to get on, not knowing how long the wait for another lift would be since there was only the single bank on this level. Next was the comical pushing and squeezing in with others to get as many of us into the elevator car. Someone held the door for us and I supervised several people to turn sideways creating enough room for my wife and I to step inside. My wife gets a call on her phone and steps off the lift - she looks like a 1950’s office worker in a slimming green sequined dress and hair up in a large bun. I was getting upset because we had to wait for her to finish the call on her cell phone. Embarrassed, I apologized for causing the delay. Finally my wife hung up and gave me a look of anger for not being patient and stepped into the lift. The door closes and we begin the decent, packed in like a group of sardines. The whine of the giant motor fading away as our lift slowly makes its way down to the bottom.

I wake up right out of the dream.