Sometimes A Banana

I had a dream the other night. I tried to remember as much as I could, but as usually happens with dreams, one is left with a wispy fragment.

The dream started in a school or some sort of  building with rooms on either side of a long corridor. The corridor is well lit as are the rooms. There's a lot of activity going on. Apparently, I was supposed to teach a class, and I was looking for my room.

There's a location shift or else a huge chunk of dream I can't remember or having a dream about teaching a class, but not being able to find the classroom is boring. I'm outside a row of triple-decker houses like the kind my Auntie and Grandma lived in East Boston. My new blue car is parked in front of one of the houses though I don't recognize any of the houses and don't know anyone who lives there. My car is not parallel parked as you usually find in the city. My car is nosed in like you would park in a driveway. Course this might be because I can't parallel park to save my soul, and I avoid the task at all costs.

I'm standing on the passenger side of the car. The door is open, and I'm cleaning the dashboard. Only the dash is made of glass, and I can see the gleaming parts of the engine, wheels, curb, and street. I'm industriously cleaning the glass with a blue microfiber cloth. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice an older woman standing next to my car, in front of one of the houses. She is holding a large pot of chicken soup. She's the mother of one of my colleagues at the museum. He recently had emergency surgery and was home recovering (for real, not just in the dream). Holding her pot of chicken soup, his Ma calls his name. No answer. She calls again. And again no answer. So she calls louder and uses his given name. "Andrew!" He had once said his Ma was the only one to call him by his given name. He comes out of the house and takes the soup pot, and he an his mother go in the house. They do not notice me, and I pretend I'm not eavesdropping or notice them. I just continue cleaning the glass dashboard of my car.

Now comes the weird part. Actor, Lee Marvin, the villain in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance comes out of the house I'm parked in front of. Apparently, he was inside scrubbing the bathtub. A couple of people come out of the house after him. They are discussing what they should do for him. Someone says, "When someone does you a kindness, aren't you supposed to do a kindness back?" I recognize this line from The Little Princess starring Shirley Temple. Again, I'm invisible to Marvin and the other players. I'm just busy cleaning the glass dashboard.

That's all I can remember. I have no idea what any of it means other than sometimes, a banana is just a banana.