Begin re-occuring storyline/dream
Pre-emptive note: Usually, the dreams have to be recorded in the order that their details can be remembered, which means from end to beginning in segments. I'll try to seperate out the segments as they came to me, for my own recall, if nothing else. In any-case, this dream will probably not need remembering in that manner, i.e. I think that I can remember it from back to front all at once.
I am hosting another party at my spacious, white-walled apartment complex. There are many people in the main room, a feature that it seems that all parties hold in common. Almost too many people for me to handle as host on my own, evidently, as I skip from place to place dealing with different small issues.
The main room is dark, lit only by slowly revolving globe lights, the kinds that let strips of light through. There are multiple of these lights set up around the room, so the atmosphere is almost disco-like. Few other details are clear about the events that are unfolding in the room, but it matters little, for they are unimportant.
What is important is that I have invited my father to the party, a fact that I shall rue eventually. I see him standing on the southwest end of the room, dressed in black. Or is it that he is in shadow? In either case, I know that it is him.
I go over to the wide expanse of window, a pure pane of clear glass that overlooks the garden/greenery below. Against the white and black of the tiny building that lies upon my lawn, white painted walls and a roof of black shingles [I know they are the kind made up of sparkling grains of fine black rock stuck on tar], I see two figures leaning, one black, one white, and know that they are waiting for me.
I thread my way through my white kitchen filled with people, and out onto the wooden deck, then the stairs that lead down to the ground.
The night is cold, crisp, and clear, just as it should be, and the wind through the still-green leaves of the trees is like a waterfall of sound. I walk to these men, knowing why they are there, who they are. We speak in silence for a time, and it must not matter what we say, for as I go back to the party I cannot remember any of it, as if it is muffled, as if we spoke a great distance from me.
I re-enter the main room, only to see that many of the guests have cleared out, and of the few that remain I notice three. My father and two others, who watch me warily. I know them as well, and I remember.
[I remember them because they were at a party of mine, in a previous dream of my re-occuring dream sequences. Just because I dream the dream again does not mean that it is the same, just that it is the same dream.] It was at one of my other parties that I spoke to them first, and I had given the taller one some falsified information at that party, writing down made up names, Ki, Scolli?, and two others, as well as other "created" information, all on a small, blank white index card in black, blotching ink, as people who would be working with me in the job that he offered me. I do not know whether I wanted the job and had no-one to put down as associates in my company, or whether I did not want the job at all.
[End referrence to previous dream]
It no longer matters, however, as the tall one shouts over the noise of the music "Your father invited us."
I glanced at my father, who was not far away, and it was lucky that the room was dark and he was paying only little attention, he would have felt the extreme disgust that I felt towards him for having done that, and would not have known why.
The music partially drowns out the tall man's next words, which might have been something to the effect of "He told us that you were going to be playing Music with the new MP3 here." though that made only half-sense to me at the time. The man then shoves the card in my direction, black drawn on white, which I remember instantly to be what was described from the previous dream. His anger is palatable.
I groan inwardly at having been caught in a lie, and convince the man to come with me to negotiate in a quieter location. We go to another softer room, perhaps accompanied by his companion, perhaps not.
I assuage his anger with the promise that I will join forces with him, and that I have true information this time. He asks me if I truly have others that I can trust this time, not just made up names, and I think for a moment before giving a nod.
I write down the words Hexatron and Quick... then stop, wondering if I should give their real names. But I decide that it doesn't matter, I am certain that they will join me in doing whatever it is that we're going to do, and know that this time I am telling the truth, so I need not worry about what the man will think. I have a quick feeling that the situation has been assuaged for the best of everyone involved.
I wake.