Last night was a typical night, nothing out of the ordinary. But before I entered into the dream space, I was thinking about the price of houses. Wondering if I have to devote seventy or even eighty percent of my total salary in mortgage and tax payments. The house prices in the New York City area are horribly inflated.

I don’t know if buying an apartment is going to work either. Because most of the apartment ownership are Cooperatives (coop). Which means that even if you qualify for the mortgage the coop board would still need to approve you before you can move in. I’ve heard the coop board’s residence requirements are strict.

Then once you’re in on top of the mortgage, you would have to pay the “Maintenance fees.” Depending on the building and the amenities it could be expensive. The average I’ve seen is between $1,500-$2,000 per month. But like rent, the fees are subjected to be increased.

Condominiums are not much better. Its almost the same thing as coops, the maintenance fees run about the same.  Although the Condo board’s residency requirements are not so strict, and you can rent out your unit whenever you want, as opposed to coops, you can’t rent out or if you can you cannot do it for the first two years.

I really don’t see the advantages of owning your own apartment, as opposed to owning a house. So, I guess I’ve have to keep searching for an ideal house.

So, those were my thoughts before I entered the dream space.

Now that I entered the dream space, this is when the dream revealed that I was homeless. There were no details how I ended up that way. But I could see that I was walking up to a shelter. I never went in the shelter right away because there was a line outside.

While standing in line, it seemed that some of the homeless people recognized me, since I have delt with them in the past, while working as a government bureaucrat worker, which occasionally had dealings with the homeless.  

They were wondering, how was it that I came to be in this situation. I couldn’t give an answer. One of the shelter staff also recognized who I was, and since I helped her out in the past. She called me out of the line and decided to take care of me, putting me ahead of the line and assigning me a bed.

After registering in the shelter, I went out side, and I saw somebody that I know. It was C who was in Iraq with me. It seemed that I had loaned him my car and he never gave it back.

I confronted him, and demanded that he tell me what happened to my car. He was giving me excuse after excuse, and it didn’t make much sense.

C was just pissing me off and not saying what really happened to the car.  But then I looked across the street and I saw the car. I couldn’t miss it because it looked like the Nissan Sentra that I used to own many moons ago.

When I got to the car I saw that it was gutted, that the engine was stripped and that the inside was just a shell.

I never really saw any conclusion because there was a shift of scenery . The scene turned into a classroom. It looks like I was taking some sort of course. I guess that since I was homeless, I was spending the night in the classroom.

But, the class room was haunted. There was the ghost of the instructor who was giving lessons on the mathematic formula of the problem that I was working on. Nobody in the normal class had the answers to the question, the class instructor failed to find a solution also.  But during the night the ghost instructor was providing me the mathematics to get the solution.

The ghost instructor was teaching the process until the morning where he would disappear, then when the school was empty at night the ghost instructor would reappear and start where he left off.

This time around, he made sure that I have taken notes and record everything. According to the ghost instructor, once I apply the formula the matter should be resolved. I had a notebook and I wrote down all the calculations and the formula.  

But when I presented the calculations in class, it still did not arrive to a conclusion, but it was close. The formula needs to be tweaked.

It was back to spending the night in the classroom, where the ghost instructor was working on tweaking the formula so that we would derive at the solution…

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Psych Ward Chronicles: The Support House Shenanigans

Ten short stories of the soap-opera environment in a state-sanctioned congregate care level II facility for the mentally ill, aka support house for independent living. The support house is privately owned and operated. Stories follow the challenges as experienced by residents and staff

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Night Watch

short stories of suspense and dark tales stories of suspense and dark tales

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