Ocean Stones and New York Pears

First I was at my childhood home in Sacramento. My dad had converted the garage into an art studio which sat nestled within the back yard garden and patio. As I approached it I knew it was not real, simply because we haven't lived there for 8 years or so. Regardless, I entered and it was exactly as I remembered it: bright, tidy, decorated with strange objects, filled with tools and art supplies, and showcasing his latest works. Only I knew in the dream that my father was dead. So I was there to collect the belongings of his that I wished to be mine. I found three strange doll-like heads, a couple sentimental christmas decorations, a few scraps of his drawings, and an amazing collection of stones. The stones were collected because they all looked like the ocean, the way it meets the shore. There were deep blues that faded into lighted sea greens, then a patch of foamy white lapped against a dusty sand color. They were all a little different, but were all beautiful, smooth, and tranquil. One even looked like a view from outer space at the vast blue ocean and the dark green continents. One was too abstract for me to discern, but I knew that it represented the ocean for my dad wouldn't have collected it if it didn't. I put rollerskates on and dashed away onto a smooth paved road on a college campus where some geeky guy tried to "walk me" to my destination. I skated to a remote area, thanked him, then took off in the direction I wished to go in.
Next I was in New York where Trevor and I had just moved. He was driving me somewhere with all my bags packed. I was on the phone with my sister telling her I was taking a boat to Rome. She asked how I could afford it and I said it would only cost $18 because I recently took a boat to Canada--some place called Ohknov, or something like that-- which only cost $18. It dawned on me that Rome would probably cost a lot more and that I really didn't have the money to travel anyway, so I asked Trevor to turn around. He was irritated, but did it. I announced that I would take the subway downtown instead, since I had never taken the subway downtown. That sounded like a better thing to do that day anyway. I was a bit tired. We parked the car in some neighborhood and began to walk to the subway station. Along our walk I saw a house that looked familiar.
Inside the house were two ladies whom we had known back in San Francisco or Sacramento. They were sweet. They were people I didn't really want to hang out with all the time, but it was nice to see them still. Their house had ochre walls and dark wood trim. It was a real house, not a tiny apartment. I liked it. They had a small tree growing right beside where we talked that caught my eye: a bonsai pear tree with gigantic ripe juicy pears hanging ready to pick. I inquired and they allowed me to pick one. I chose one not too big and not too small. I sliced it so we could all taste it. It was overall pretty sweet and juicy, but there were moments of mashiness. Trevor ate a huge chunk and smiled.
Next we were sitting on the ladies' couch with some guys I used to be friends with from Sacramento. One of them I used to date, the other was just an old friend. The one I used to date was an amazing artist who had recently become a born-again Christian and had gotten married. He looked about 13 for some reason. I asked how his art was going and he said he had stopped it all. He showed me the last piece he made: pinks and reds with white contour drawings of couples fucking, with a small photograph of his naked new wife with her enormous tits. I told him it was weird and especially strange since he's all born-again now. He shrugged it off. I left.
I was then on a bus talking to him on the phone. He kept on wanting to "get back together again" and I kept on saying "no way, Jose." When I explained that I had a boyfriend now and that it was creepy that he's all born-again, married, and not doing art anymore, I realized that the phone had cut out and he didn't hear any of it. Oh well. I got off the bus and simultaneously bumped into Trevor who was backing up in the car. He smiled and I hopped in. It was amazing timing. And as I buckled my seatbelt I realized that we didn't live in New York; we lived in San Francisco, so the "subway downtown" idea was out. Then I was excited to just go home.
Lastly, we went to a barbeque of sorts at night, on a street corner. Everyone was there. And for some reason everyone had huge bags of Doritos. I snacked on all the different flavors. That guy I used to date showed up and I was trying to get rid of him, but he kept wanting to talk about "us." I was annoyed. I took off quickly and found Trevor again. He was standing against a chain-link fence eating "Nacho Cheese" ones. A tan, smooth, belly-full, gay naked man with shades on took a place right next to Trevor. Trevor smiled and fed him a Dorito. The man smiled and opened wide again for another one. Trevor fed him another one. Then he fed Trevor one. Then Trevor pulled out another one to which they both bit down on the same Dorito. We all laughed. It was funny. John Baez showed up with the largest bag of "Cool Ranch" Doritos I had ever seen. He had torn into it and offered me some. I reached in and they tasted so good. Then I woke up.