Bad Dream 148 -- In Baltimore with Dad

In my dream, I'm in Baltimore with my Dad.  He has some kind of appointment downtown -- but I don't know what it's about.  Further, it seems that my presence at the appointment is not necessary and may, in fact, be prohibited by the subject of the meeting.  All I know is that he will be going over "there" and I will be free to wander around the city.  Unlike the last several meetings where I went someplace with Dad, I'm not concerned about his welfare or ability to navigate the city.

So I'm free to roam around Baltimore wherever I wish.  I wander around the downtown part of the city -- lots of tall buildings, most of which look a lot alike.  (In my dream as was the case when I lived in Maryland, I didn't know the city all that well.  I knew a few landmarks, but that was about it.)

I sense that I've lost track of time and that Dad's appointment -- whatever and wherever it was -- might well be over.  And it then strikes me that we didn't set up a rendezvous location or a time by which we could get back together.  It's not given to me in the dream that Dad has the car keys, but I do know that I won't be able to get home until and unless I link up with him in downtown Baltimore.  And I don't know when or where that could take place.  

I continue to wander from block to block, hoping that I would recognize something that would help me get my bearings -- and from that possibly figure out where Dad might be.  And I have no luck with any of that. 

I'm starting to feel hungry and decide that getting something to eat might somehow stabilize the situation.  At least getting food might help me think more clearly.  I wander into the ground floor of a large office building that has a coffee shop sort of place.  But the only things they have to eat are sweet pastries -- a nice array of them, but not a solid source of protein.  

I look through the glass display case and pick out the pastry that looks least lethal and ask for one and pay for it.  The lady behind the counter walks to the back of the shop to retrieve my order and comes back to the front with a plate carrying two or three pastries that look nothing like what I ordered.  I'm cheesed off at her and the store in general, but I'm more concerned about finding Dad than I am about getting my pastry order squared away.  If I can't link up with him, I have no idea how I will get home.  I decide to keep the pastries she handed me along with the nice-looking plate on which they were served.  (I'm sure she expected to get the plate back so she could wash it and reuse it.  But I will keep the plate to "punish" her.  Get even.)

I turn to leave the shop, but as I walk towards the door, Dad walks in.  And he looks terrific.  He's got this "movie star" glow about him, and he looks like he probably looked when he was 40 years old or thereabouts.

Needless to say, I'm delighted and relieved to see him, but he's taking it all in stride and walking past me as if he's got a task to do before he greets me.  

I wake up.