Morning of March 22, 2014. Saturday.
My wife and I are in an unfamiliar room (seemingly on the second floor) of bluish pastel-painted plaster walls, which seems like some sort of composite between a post office and a large hospital waiting room but also has the slight feeling of a laundromat. The room’s layout is like two squares attached (at the corners) but open about forty percent inward from the corners. Several vending machines are in the room, but there are not any other outstanding features. A beige picnic table is in one corner on the opposite side of the wall where a row of three vending machines stand near where I am. To my left is the only entrance. At least one other vending machine is near the picnic table. (It actually seems similar to a hospital area from real life when my wife had our last child, but not a waiting room, rather a more empty area near the entrance to a larger patients room.) There is some sort of contest announced on the radio whereby a person can win a very large amount of money along with many other prizes and prestige by finding one of three special keys randomly placed in packs of trading cards. (This actually seems more like a “back story” to my dream than an in-dream event, as there is no radio and I do not remember directly hearing about it.) My wife leaves, apparently to go and get something or to check on the children. I am still not quite sure where we are.
I notice an open pack (the wrapper is still on, but the top part mostly torn across) of trading cards near my feet just as I go to purchase a pack from the vending machine. I pick it up and take the cards out (they are similar to the cards Woolworths is presently giving out for each $20.00 spent but slightly bigger - otherwise the wrapping seems very similar). As I lightly thumb the cards, I am happy to see a beautiful shimmering silver key under the third card. I put the cards and key in my pocket. I am puzzled as to why someone would leave it there, or perhaps they had carelessly dropped it before leaving and have not been back yet. At any rate, I still decide to buy my own pack, although the three special keys are said to have been distributed quite a distance from each other implying across the country (We may be in the USA in this dream; unsure). Amazingly, I find a similar beautiful silver key under the third card in my pack. It is mostly the same except for a different milling pattern.
I go and sit down at the picnic table to wait for my wife to come back. I then look to my right and notice another set of cards on the floor near the nearest vending machine. This one, unlike the first abandoned pack, does not have the wrapper on it. I look through them, and again, there is a beautiful silver key under the third card. This one is slightly smaller than the other two and has an elaborate symbol on the head/bow of the key, almost tattoo-like, the Egyptian symbol of a seated woman with a rainbow-like and balance-scale-like arch over her. I decide to keep that one as well and hold the three keys together focusing on their amazing value or potential value.
An (unknown) man comes in, informally dressed, and seems surprised to see me there. At first, it seems he is a maintenance person or a janitor. There is also the idea, though, that he has something to do with the prizes and acknowledgements of the winners. For some reason, I tell him about the cards and the keys, noting how each key was under the third card in each case. I feel a bit wary in the back of my mind and think I perhaps should not be revealing this. However, even upon seeing the keys, he does not believe what happened at all. He seems very puzzled and almost angry. Even if it “did” happen (and he still does not believe it did) the keys would have to be returned to the unopened packs (which makes no sense) or to the people who had lost them. Even the one I actually got legitimately from purchasing from the machine apparently “did not happen”. His state of mind and ideas remind me a lot of ordinary people from real life in a way that borders on hilarity in how people do not believe much of anything that actually happens and instead, try to go “by the book” so to speak (or by something they read somewhere - as if that means anything in light of their real experiences or perception) to pretend to have some level of understanding or even authority on a subject. He leaves to contact the prize authorities to see where each key “really” is and the status of any winners, if any. I am amused almost to the point of bliss at his idiotic doubting behavior (even upon seeing the special keys) yet also am very glad I still have the three special keys and am thinking about getting my wife and family and leaving before he gets back (assuming he even finds his way back).
I then inexplicably find myself in a completely unfamiliar area near a large fancy building which is almost castle-like (but seems more like a public venue in perhaps Beverly Hills). I use the smaller key to get in, but there are also a number of security gates which the keys may also fit, but I do not feel like opening all those doors. There are halls that go off in different directions. Instead, I transform into a snake and am able to slide through the bars of the security doors, albeit feeling quite strange. I have no perception of arms and legs and my “stomach” feels very odd and stretched out over a longer area. I turn back into myself when reaching a wooden door (of vertical slats) whereby the top is rounded rather than straight across. I am then wearing a loose white robe that has a very long red belt tied around my waist and hanging down from both ends. I open the wooden door into an amazing room and my awareness becomes even more vivid and clear. However, there is the astounding feeling that I am outside of my own consciousness somehow. (I should point out that some generic dream scripting I had been doing included the scene of opening a door “into a revelation”.)
The actor, Alexander Siddig, is standing there on the other side of the room in an elaborate prince-like costume. He looks at me in a very puzzled manner. There are a number of other people in the room who are all looking at me in a puzzled or offended manner. They all seem to be extremely wealthy and most are dressed in almost early 1700s style. There is a stage set up on that side of the room, and a few almost bleacher-like or pew-like seats on the right side. A few people are seated seemingly as an audience on each side. At least five others seem to be a part of the play and engaging in some sort of conversation.
“The barriers and security doors are there for a reason,” he stammers almost embarrassingly. “You can’t just…you can’t just barge in on someone else’s dream…how did you get in here…who gave you permission…this is a private gathering and you need to leave now…so just…go…please…” He then starts talking to the others on matters of my intelligence and inability to understand privacy and such, although someone also comments on my “unfair advantage” and how I have disrupted the circadian rhythms of several dreamers in conference. I know that he is “real” but I am not sure about the others. I am thinking on whether they are tulpas, higher entities originally developed from tulpas, real higher entities birthed from the higher planes, scripted forms, composite unique archetypes, or probably (seemingly the most likely) other dreamers. I get the impression this was an artful setup to some sort of elaborate romantic adventure. I leave, not wanting to feel like a thoughtless intruder.
As I turn to leave, something strange happens. A larger, much plainer room somehow seems to materialize between the room I “am in” (but which has shifted elsewhere, inter-dimensionally) and the door so that I am now in a different room even though I am still holding the same doorknob to the same supposed area. (I have dreamed of internally morphing houses before, but this creates a very strange awareness).
An older unknown lady of nearly eighty approaches me and starts talking in a very friendly and helpful manner about dreams. She makes personal comments on Alexander and his habits and desires and such. She seems to have the “job” that is some sort of combination of being a maid and guiding other dreamers when they stumble into other dreamer’s dreams without the proper protocol. As I decide to leave, my long red belt, which seems more and more like a long red silk ribbon, gets tangled on the doorknob and in part of the security gate. I tell her to cut it off on her side, but she seems worried about damaging the supposedly valuable belt. To me, it is way too long as it is and I do not mind. She uses a pair of shiny gold scissors to cut through the wrapped-up material (about four layers wrapped around the doorknob) and also is able to cut and pull (with my help) from where it has also (on the other end of the tied belt) wrapped partly around a bar of the security gate - and eventually my belt is much shorter and I can then keep going. I just want to go onto a different dream, hopefully one without snobby celebrities and snobby elite. There might be a play on “key card” somewhere in there.