Victorian Conventions

     I dreamed I was trying to get into a convention but I left my membership documents at home and didn't want to drive all the way back. I realized this was a dream, so forced them to be in my journal. The dream resisted because I wasn't playing by the rules. There weren't any signature forms, suddenly they were all filled in by others and the blank stack had "just run out."
     "Two can play that game!" said one of the dream counter operators / check-in clerks.
     I really didn't want to go back, even though it was just a dream, I might miss something. There were a couple of exchanges and the dream leaped forward in time, without me going back or filling out one of the silly forms. "OK, I suppose we're both happy now."
     The convention wasn't even ready yet, we were still setting up. Our display area was a Victorian dining room and drawing room. I was dressed as a monk, Rasputin, apparently. N and C were having a great time dressed as Russian Nobility. One of the other players was really into his part and was properly snooty.
     When I came back in with the very thin N in all her finery, he was suddenly willing to share his special wine with her, etc. She accepted, then continued to play the part of fawning all over me. I was worried that this Rasputin was going to meet the same end as the original, none of the single gentleman courtiers could stand that I was getting the attention of all the women. I had trouble understanding it myself.
     I later found I was in bed with N under the covers across my lap. Mom and Dad kept poking their heads into the room to see how I was doing. N was trying to keep quiet, but it was difficult as I was goosing her.
     I got lost in the forest outside of town, but realized that someone would come looking for me. I had no idea why they would be looking for me, but I knew they would. I made my way to a stream and found it came to a culvert. I climbed up to find myself on a small frontage road along a rail line. I followed the rail line back into town.
     I knew the people who were looking for me, a sixteen year old in a red dress and white pinafore, not quite a Victorian Orphan Annie, an eight year old boy, not quite Lord Fountleroy, a three year old girl, bonnet included with matching dolly, a Jack Russel terrier and a rag doll Siamese were all on a railroad hand truck headed out of town in my direction.
     We managed to cross paths and I got the hand cart turned around, though it was a little tight we all fit on the cart. I heard a train coming out of the station in town and managed to get us stopped and off the tracks, just about 30 seconds before it huffed through.
     I asked the kids who they were. "Your kids" they chorused, "And your doggies" offered up the three year old, holding the cat and her dolly up to me. I took the struggling cat, who settled into my arm, looking relieved. I was hoping for a minute that the cat was Rocky, but she wasn't. She was, however, quite glad to see me and settled right in, purring all the time. The terrier kept jumping up two feet in the air and yipping. I finally told him I was happy to see him, too, and he stopped. We managed to get the handtruck back on the rails and we pumped our way back into town.
     There were people waiting for us, and we made our way back to the convention center and the Victorian Display area. I was dressing as we made our way up the stairs. This time I was in a gentleman's adventuring costume, complete with pith helmet. The children still insisted they were mine, and when asked about mommy they insisted we were a "Disney" family and mommy was still quite dead all these ten years.
     "Yeah, how does that explain those two?" I asked the oldest girl."
     "We're all adopted."
     "Don't get too cute or I'll turn all Woody Allen on you."
     "I think that's the idea, I'm past the marrying age, and I only have you in my heart. From the time I was six I knew I was destined to make your remaining years happy and fulfilled."
     "OK, when did this become a gothic romance."
     "This dream has always been a gothic romance. How come you aren't playing along. I hate it when my dream characters don't play along."
     "Me, too, but I've learned to relax and let it go." I looked at the girl in the orphan Annie victorian outfit, then stared into her face, trying to memorize it.
     "Shouldn't music be swelling or something..." she asked.
     "Or something," I just couldn't resist the slightly out of character comment.
She tiptoed up for a kiss as the dream dissolved. I though I could hear her swearing "Firk, ding blast, this always happens at the best part..."