The Heist
Rockefeller, Totems, & An Elite Nigerian Woman
In my dream, the powers that be were swarming. I was on the hunt for some lost, stolen collages that I’d put together and that had been taken by Rockefeller and some other mogul. I found myself staring up at three men who sat at a round table looking down on me as I accused them of stealing. They seemed to be searching for a way to dismiss my claims. Two women were next to me and they seemed to want to help. I explained to them what was going on and how it felt like the powers, the monetary powers, were trying to send me a message to back off by sabotaging my investigatory projects. I was in a pretty large space with tons of people going to and fro. It was like Union station but with the feeling of being in court.
Earlier in the dream, I entered an elevator and my friend Ben Suster was standing in the right hand corner with sunglasses on. He didn’t say anything. There was also a black woman there who reminded me of the elite Nigerian girls I went to highschool with. She stood next to a cart of what at first glance looked like knick knacks but were actually protective totems. She said I needed to pick one item if I wanted to talk to them later and ask for their assistance. She also cooly mentioned how she didn’t send for me which was her way of saying that this was not her idea.
“No, you did not” I snarkily agreed as I picked up one of the items and folded it away in my pocket. It was a rectangular stone with three rows of circles, four in each row, carved into it. This elevator scene happened before the collage pieces I’d put together were stolen.
Back at the Union Station Court House, I realized one of the women I was speaking to seemed to be the same Nigerian woman from the elevator. She said that the guys overseeing the court were the type to ruin people’s lives. But she seemed much friendlier than before, like she wanted to help.
This was the end of the dream.
Symbolism & Themes:
Collage = Putting the Pieces Together
Action: Authoritarian Sky Daddy attempting to remove collages. The irony of the order causing disorder and chaos.
In retrospect, this was not union station. There is no Union Station. It was 42nd st Grand Central Station, a place I could not name since I hadn't been in so long. Aspects of this dream came to fruition almost one month later. You can read about it in my piece here: https://chloevaldary.substack.com/p/capture