Hotel Aztec

Hotel Aztec

Based on a dream I had morning of 5/1/15:

The Hotel Aztec (simply called "The Aztec") had stood on the corner of the commercial district of Port Jefferson, NY, for as long as I could remember. It stood tall and proud, painted with various hues of pink, brown, and blue. It was six stories tall, and had become the center of a burgeoning arts community.

It was called a "hotel," but you could rent rooms hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, and annually.

I entered the building after a long absence, my bag hanging from my shoulder, and once in the elevator, punched the button for the third floor. The door opened with a ding onto a maze of hallways, and as if through instinct, I turned into the hallway to my left and left again. I inserted the key into the door to room 323 and opened it.

To call the room "huge" would be wrong, but calling it "small" would be just as wrong. It was probably about twenty feet across and twenty feet wide. There was a bed to my right and a workbench covered in electronics parts in the back left corner.

I set the bag down on the bed and started putting things in the bag: a shirt from the floor, a pair of pants rumpled up in a drawer, books that had been piled unceremoniously on the bed. Why did I still have this place? I have another apartment that I live at that's much nicer than this dump. It's time to get out of this place.

Eventually, I made it to the workbench with the electronic parts. One had a display monitor attached to a rubber pad with wires. I put the pad against my head and an internal image of the inside of my head was displayed on the screen and in the top right corner, the text "No abnormalities found." I put the pad against my abdomen; my stomach and intestines were visible. The text read "Bowel movement imminent."

Later, I was sitting on the steps leading to the entrance of the Aztec. Off to my right and across a field the size of a football pitch was a movie theater playing "Marvel's Avengers: Age of Ultron." I wanted to go see the movie but I was stuck there, for whatever reason.

Out of nowhere, Dr. Michio Kaku approached me. He said, "Hi, Tom. I'm having a lecture tonight on cosmology and it's effects on Relativity and Quantum Mechanics and I would like you to join me."

"Why me?" I asked.

"Because I thought you might be interested, and, besides, you're one of the probably eight or nine people in the world who would understand it."

With that, he gave me a wink and walked away. I sat there with my mouth agape for several beats.

Next, I was back in the room. I heard the door open and a woman came into view feet first... y'know, because this apartment suddenly had the door 15 feet above the floor and a flight of stairs from the entryway down to the apartment and the door obscured by the floor above.

I hadn't seen her in a long time, and had long given up hope that I would ever see her again. Her hair was darker than I remembered and cut short. It looked good on her. Her light olive skin glowed as it ever had. She was wearing a pair of khaki capris, sandals, and a fluffy cotton white top. I would have loved her in a burlap sack.

My heart leapt into my throat. She had returned.

But I got the feeling that this wasn't a joyful reunion. Something was wrong. She was not happy, and she wasn't happy with me.

This is the point at which I woke up.

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