Sleep Dream. I’m with Inta In Riga. It could be spring; there is slushy snow on the sidewalks and streets. It is a dream city, not corresponding to the wakeful one that I know. It feels pleasant, not threatening. We are walking around with no goal in mind. We go to a funky small grocery story. At the cash register is a fellow who looks like Susan’s father in Desperate Housewives: chunky; gray hair, a jowly face, his demeanor is sour. It think to myself that he is probably Jewish. We sit down at the front of the store to wait for M. His office is on the second floor, up some stairs to the right of the cash register. We to up to his office. It is small, simple and neat. They make guns. M. is busy with office stuff. He doesn’t interact with us.
We are in an apartment. Inta’s mother is talking. I am on my back on the floor, looking upside down at her. She looks exactly like Zaiga, but her eyes are friendly. The interaction feels pleasant. Inta seems protective of me.
Dream Associations. I realize that Riga is definitely Inta’s town, in which I am just a visitor. She shows it to me, shares her world with me, and I like this. But she does not seem to much care about my life spaces.