Dreams: a hot dog factory, and the Beijing conservatorium

A hot dog factory

In this dream I have purchaseda new business but I'm not sure what it is. I'm standing outside a grey boxy factory, one that looks non-descript enough to be anything. I walk inside and there is a man waiting to show me around.

He shows me the conveyor belt, where the workers will stand, just about a metre apart.

So here, the first person will take the bread rolls and split them. He gestures to the empty space.

Then the next person will put the sausage in the roll.

And the next person will add fried onions.

And sauce. 

Then the next person will close the roll together, ensuring compliance with the policy. 

Finally, they will be individually wrapped prior to packing.

We finish our tour and I think to myself. Really? I bought a hot dog factory?

The man congratulates me on my excellent choice. He says that hot dogs are way in vogue right now, and as he says this, the noise of a crowd drifts in.

See, there is already a crowd waiting for you to start dispensing hot dogs! The man says triumphantly, but his face then falls. But I told the workers to start tomorrow, so I supposed you're on your own today.

He disappears and I find the boxes of various hot dog ingredients in the store room. I drag them out and organise them on a single bench, then I start making hot dogs all whilst the crowd outside are shouting - hey! where are those hot dogs? we want them now! we want hot dogs!

I wrap them as fast as I can and soon there is a little pile of wrapped hot dogs. P comes in and says, wow that's a lot of hot dogs but nowhere near enough to feed the crowd outside.

At that moment I run out of sausages, and all I have left is a pile of bread rolls, a lot of sauce and a little hill of shredded lettuce (who puts lettuce in hot dogs?)

Let's go hide away from the crowd in the bathroom. He suggests. Then I wake up.

---------------------

The Beijing Con 

In this dream, I am in Beijing. I’m not sure how I know this, but it is clear in my mind.

I step out of the airport and the time of day is early morning. The sky is grey and some clouds hang low on the horizon, as if it is about to rain. The outside of the airport looks more like Kunming as I get into a taxi – there aren’t enough tall buildings around?

I am looking at the map app on my phone to trace where we are as the taxi goes from the airport to the conservatorium. I think hard but I don’t think I’ve ever been to the Beijing Con before. The taxi goes around the block in one direction because the street it’s on is a one way street. Then I get out of the car and I’m carrying nothing but my violin case.

I walk into the performance theatre at the Con and slide into one of the desks. This is my desk? I ask myself. No one around me seems to question it. We start playing a piece that I don’t recognize. The conductor is an angry man who keeps shouting at various sections for being too fast, too slow, too loud, too soft. It’s not a happy rehearsal at all.

Afterwards I walk out of the theatre alone, carrying my violin. There are no cars on the street outside the Con, and the security guard at the front tells me I must go to the other side of the Con. He shows me the right way – into a tunnel that goes under the main building. As I enter the tunnel it feels hot and stifling, as if the air does not circulate at all. A few light bulbs hang from the ceiling here and there, but it is generally dark and the exposed water pipes are intermittently dripping. I feel very uncomfortable in this network of tunnels that never seem to end, and I feel so grateful when I emerge from the other end. I turn around and the building appears to have turned into a church.

How can there be a church in the Con? I ask myself.

Then I see that there are many people waiting for taxis, and I join them. All the taxis that pass have their lights on, but none of them stop for us. I feel increasingly panicked, then I wake up.