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1962
Allaying Money Fears in New Tattoo Shop...

I was at the new Tattoo Shop, tattooing Dan's mushrooms. It started out good, but then I got distracted. There were lots of people in the shop and lots of hubbub and silly games going on. The new owner was a woman whose work was phenomenal. Her tattoos were only part of the story. After working with the ink, she would then begin to work with jewelry design that was partially embedded in the skin and a permanent complement to the visual art beneath. Weird! But amazing!
I was well-respected at the shop. I loved the work I did and the other artists treated me as their equal. Part-way through Dan's tattoo, the other artist came over and smeared olive green tattoo ink all over my forehead and eyelids. It was a practical joke and everyone laughed as I went to go wash it off. But it was burning my skin and really painful. All of a sudden, I got scared that the ink we used were hurting our clients. If it hurt this much topically, I couldn't imagine what it was doing under the skin.
I washed it off with a damp paper towel. It took a couple of tries and finally some soap, although there wasn't a lot of water so getting the ink off turned out to be a huge, stupid ordeal.
When I finally got back to Dan, he was patient, but not happy that he'd been waiting. I felt bad and immediately continued with his tattoo. But it was hurting him a lot this time. I guess I'd waited too long and his endorphins had worn off and I watched his face, as if he were being filmed by a camera, and I was watching it on television. Instead of watching my hands tattoo, I watched his winces and pained looks and quivering lips as I finished him up. I was glad when it was done because hurting him was hurting me!
After I finished his work, I wandered back into the rest of the shop (which was about 5 times the size of our actual shop.) There was a giant arcade in the back and I went back to relax and play some arcade games. There was another artist there. He didn't work at our shop, but he came to hang out. I recognized him from my past and instantly felt humbled in his presence. And not in a good way. He held my past over my head and around him, I felt like the low-man-on-the-totem-pole. But it was my shop, dammit, so I wasn't going to let him get to me. He was playing my favorite arcade game, which was a little like duck hunt, except that the game actually shot out these hovering clay-pigeon things and you had to swat them back into the machine to gain points. I was the master of this game and held the title. However, it also had a slot-machine element to it, so every now and again, you'd get a weird extra-credit spin or bonus or something. As I watched this other artist playing it, he suddenly got a bonus and we watched the animation of "Red-Hot Wheels!" There were wheels that were spinning and the rubber was burning and the wheels burst into flames and then the machine spat out a huge pile of cash - stacks of $100's! We all cheered in celebration at what this artist had accomplished. He had won $1000, though there was more than that in the stacks. He brought the pile to the table and we all stared at it with gaping mouths. I had been playing the game forever and never won any money from it. I was kind of jealous, but also felt the high of the win since I'd been there to experience it.
I joked that only a fraction of that could save my life right now and if he didn't know what to do with it, I could gladly help him. WIthout hesitation, he picked up 2 stacks of $100's and plopped them down in front of me. He did so with the other 3 people at the table, splitting the money evenly between all of us. I was aghast. He said that we all deserved it and that it was better this way. I cried, I was so happy. Though he had technically given me only $200, the stacks made it feel like I'd gotten $2000. I called Dan and tried to catch my breath and organize my words to explain what had happened. It was hard because I was crying. Finally, he came and I showed him the money and explained that I wouldn't have to worry about rent for a couple of months while I got on my feet. It was a windfall! I felt an amazing sense of relief from the stress that has gripped me for months. I felt my world coming back to me, as if I'd just been pardoned from death row. I couldn't stop crying.
Finally, people wandered off and Dan left and I was packing up my things to leave. I noticed that the stack of money that the artist had kept for himself was missing and he didn't know where it had gone. One of the other people had taken it. I was mad - less because it had been taken, and more because I wanted a cut. I went to each of the people who had received money and I grilled them about what happened. The first one had his in a purse/bag thing and I saw the wad and pulled it out and counted it. It was the original amount, minus a few dollars for a beer or something. I found another person's backpack and opened it, looking for his wad. He had an extra bankroll in there but before I could investigate, he grabbed the bag from me. I don't remember where the dream went from there. But when I woke up to feed the cats, for a few seconds I still felt the relief from money woes. Unfortunately, as I realized it was all a dream, the stresses of life returned.

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