I was searching for coffee at a museum made of marble and jasper. My neck and arms were longer and I wore a silk dress from the 1890's with a train, and a necklace made of large flowers like a scarf. Everything was slowed way down and my hands were graceful. The clicks of heels on the marble, swishy silks and murmurs around me soothed and made me sleepy. Many wide staircases in the main entrance led up to the galleries. I was attracted by a fiery orange glow and soft old music above me. I ascended the steps and saw the gallery was empty, except for a delicate woman slowly dancing the Charleston in a beam of pinkish light, twinkling with dust motes. Her orange beaded dress was dazzling. I wondered how she moved so slowly and gracefully, then learned she was actually being transported from the 1920's at that moment and the light was a transporter beam. That was the point of the exhibit. She looked a little sad and confused. Then I turned and saw Peg and Mariah and touched their arms and said, "I'm sorry! I forgot our coffee!" But they were staring at the dancer. I turned back to stare too and we stood, dazzled, warm and soft, until I woke up.
Carol Kampa's dreams come like movies, which makes them easy to remember. Drawing and recording her dreams for so long, she was surprised and shy when a friend suggested she submit one as an irregular. Her first desire was to run and hide. But, when she thought about it later, she had to admit, the "irregular" category does sound like a fun place to be.