One day of September I dreamed that it was September.
In real life, by the time I had this dream, we were involved in the production of some kind of publication. In the dream appeared a priest we knew in real life(we will call him father Novac) and he wanted to publish something in the publication but he was late because we had already sent the material to the printing company. None the less, I decided to go there and ask for the printing process to be stopped in order to incorporate what father Novac wanted to publish.
After halting the printing, we went to see father Novac to ask him the article to be added. He was in a room with tall white walls but in the middle was some kind of showcase from ceiling to floor that divided the place in 2. Novac was very busy behind the showcase, not facing us but in an angle more towards the back, and he didn’t pay any attention to us but continued standing and short pacing checking and reading some papers he had in his hand. After a while, he saw us and without talking, just nodding his head, he passed the written note by the showcase using some sliding glasses. He first slid one small glass door that was in his side, to our left, put the notes inside the showcase and pushed them towards the middle of it. Then he closed his sliding door and looked at us as to indicate it was our turn. We slid a small glass door in our side; it was more to our right, we reached to grab the notes and closed the door. When we were done, Father Novac returned to the same attitude he had before noticed us. Despise having the article we, anyways, wanted to talk to him, but seeing him totally busy and concentrated we decided to call him on the phone. At that moment we noticed that there was a room prior to this one which was like a waiting room of some sort. It was also painted white and had a big window from which you could see the street two floors below.
In that waiting room, there was a public telephone but it was fixed to the outside part of the wall by the top left corner of the window. So I had to dangerously lean outward and raise my arm stretching my torso to get the handset, try to pass it to my other hand and stretch again to dial the number. In this process, the handset fell to the ground. We turned down in that precarious position and saw a group of ladies dressed in working attire passing by. They stopped and looked up. One of them picked up the handset and said, screaming to us from the street level, that it had been falling out lately, that they were going to report it to the phone company to get someone to repair it.
At this, I said to them not to worry about us because I had my cell phone with me.
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