I was at a festival of some sort in the park. there were people and kids everywhere. there was entertainment sort of like one would see at the ren faire, swings, extravagant teeter totters, some spinny ride. it was late afternoon - the sun was westering, but still bright.

my perspective kept switching? either I or my friend, wanted to take intimate shots of ears, of the people on the rides. I think it was for my friend's project, but it was awkward asking people and especially parents if it was ok.

I was travelling in Oregon on business. I was in some city in the eastern part of the state, it was on a river and had a vibrant feel that one associates with a college town. I was working for some video game company, I think, doing legwork for a launch later that week in Portland.

I had a car that was electric. for some reason it had little plastic wing things. these helped with energy efficiency? but were a pain when you had a small space to park in, or had to go through a traffic gate like you would see on a river. I was prepping it for storage, I think so I could go to Portland. possibly Yvette was with me, or possibly I was meeting her. or someone else that was a lot like Yvette.

I took the car into a garage and started disassembling the wing things. these had to be stored in the trunk or hatchback. we were talking the whole time, about relationships, the car, Portland, the river. once we were done we had to go talk to the person watching the garage at the base of the stairs. then we could take some ferry down river.

my father had left my mother. I don't know why.

I came to a bowling lane, and it was set up weird. the door to the outside was roughly even with the approach on lane 1, and the door led to the desk which was a ways back. if you stood in front of the desk, and turned around, on your left you would see the bright outside coming in the glass doors, and on the right would be the lanes. they would continue on, out of sight, behind a wall, no concourse really.

there was a league down there.

I was there with Clara, and I think we were meeting my mom. she was at the desk? or maybe she used to work there and was just meeting us there for convenience. anyhow, we were meeting there. I walked towards the lanes, and looked at who was bowling. there was my dad! he was in a black bowling shirt with a white sans serif font embroidered across the shoulders. it was 4 words that I don't remember. he was hale; this was my father in his 50s, not as an older man.

he looked up and saw me, and made the face he would make when he saw something he did not want to. I wanted him to acknowledge me, but it is rude for non-bowlers to go down to the bowling circle and disturb the bowlers. I tried to signal him to come talk to me afterwards. in my dream I thought I succeeded, but deep down I knew he would duck out.