I had a series of dreams about my old record store in Toronto.
First, I came home to the store to find that an employee had stocked the front with old men's button down shirts, hats, socks and the like. I asked him why and he told me that that was what sold.
I left the store, and outside ran into an old friend, Cherry. She was wearing a little black T-shirt, little black miniskirt, black tights and boots - a familiar outfit. When I first approached and called her name she looked at me with disdain. But soon we were friends again and took our bikes to a warehouse. Things get fuzzy after that.
Then I was back in the store with my not-yet-ex-husband, going through the music stock. I recognized things I hadn't seen in years. When I asked him where they were now, he said at his house (in Winnipeg).
Then my store was located at the back of an apartment building, and I had to go to the front to get something. I left the store topless, thinking nothing of it. But a tenant in the building walked into the corridor and saw me, and giggled. I covered my breasts with my hands and said, "It's no big deal."
Finally, I had to sell the store, and several imposing Asian men came to look at my stock. This time it was music plus women's accessories. They pawed through boxes of jewelry, and finally one pulled up a pair of patent leather platform heel boots. I screamed, "No!" and woke up.
