In my dream, I'm walking through a residential neighborhood. The dream does not inform me as to what is on the other side of the street, but the sidewalk on which I'm walking borders a series of row homes -- brick fronts, maybe four homes connected as a "pod" and a considerable number of such pods. Pods are maybe 30 feet apart, one from the next with grass and a few plants in between.
It's getting towards evening and I am nowhere near my home -- or any place where I might stay. I'm getting really hungry, and this is more important to me than finding a place to stay the night. There's no sign of a hotel or other commercial enterprise, just this seemingly endless line of brick row homes.
I look at all the front doors staring back at me and know that there are some people who live in these homes who would be comfortable taking me in and feeding me. But which ones? I'm mildly concerned about how hostile some folks might be if I pick the wrong door to knock on...
Finally, my hunger overrides any concern I may have for a negative response to my request. I pick a door on the left-hand edge of one of these pods. No particular reason for my initial decision. Just pick one.
As I walk up the sidewalk towards this door, I see that the yard and steps could use some assistance. Not that things look seriously broken down, just that things are being treated casually to their detriment. Maybe I chose the wrong door. Or maybe the person/people inside will understand someone being down on his luck better than folks who are doing quite well.
I think I knock once or twice on the door, but realize quickly that wasn't necessary. I see through the window someone walking down a set of stairs in such a manner that I know he's coming to the door. I chastise myself for choosing this door, but it's too late now.
The door is opened by a youngish man -- slender, maybe mid-to-late 20's -- dressed casually but neatly -- flowered shirt with 1960's era tight fitting pants, possibly with bell bottoms -- with the most remarkable head of hair. He's Anglo, but is wearing his coal black tightly curly hair in what needs to be called and "Afro." It's only maybe an inch or an inch-and-a-half above his scalp, but it's shaped remarkably like a football helmet. It even comes down the sides of his head -- still tightly curled -- just as a football player's helmet might fit.
He seems almost glad to see me and understands quite quickly that I really need a good meal. And is more than ready to provide one. He talks quite openly and friendly like, to the point where I think he's speaking from his own need to chatter. I'm a bit concerned about this, and if I weren't so hungry, I would probably just turn around and keep walking.
Somehow, I know he's going to invite me to stay the evening -- and it is starting to get dark and the warmth of the day is fading with the light and I have no other resources for shelter -- but I sense that staying here would not be a good idea. I try to figure out if there's some polite way to accept his invitation to dine but decline the invitation to stay. (An invitation that he hasn't made yet.) Would he proposition me? Would he force me to do something I really didn't want to do? I remind myself that no one knows where I am...
Why is he being so open and friendly with a complete stranger like me?
Do I pass on the meal offering in order to avoid dealing with an unwelcome invitation?
I wake up.
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