I get home from the grocery store and start putting my purchases away. I take out my flour and see it is full of weevils (that look like small wasps) and show it to my partner. He asks if freezing them will kill them off. I say yes, but that the bugs will still be there, so we run the flour through a grinder to make the consistency even. Because of the sheer number of bugs, the flour appears a little darker, but we shrug it off and put it in an airtight container.
I am arriving home late one night, either from work or school. I go into a large bathroom that I share with others, and tidy the far left end of the vanity where my makeup is. I notice I have scratched a large wound on the left side of my face, on the lower part of my temple near my eye. I cover the spot with several layers of foundation and concealer. Just then, some women enter the bathroom. They try to greet me, but I am nervous and shrink out of the room.
I enter my room, which is large and open, with many floor to ceiling windows and a glass door facing a courtyard. The courtyard is mostly concrete with some integrated planters of low-to-the-ground flowers and small trees. Although my lights are off, the early morning light has started to creep past the clouds. There is a blueish grey tint to the air, leading me to believe it must be December.
I start to undress when several men enter the courtyard in workcloths. I hastily throw on an oversized pastel blue sweater, and step outside. When I ask one of the men what is going on, I am ignored, and they begin tearing up the concrete. Exhausted and furious about the noise they are causing, I try again to get one of the men's attention, but am unsuccessful.
I round a corner of the couryard and enter another part of the house. There is a large commercial spiral staircase that reaches one floor above me and three floors below me, down into a foyer. All the exterior facing walls are glass, and the light is increasing as the sun begins to peak over the horizon. I approach a person who is presumably an authority figure of the house and ask them what is going on outside, and why it is happening so early without warning. They tell me that I needn't concern myself, and that I should stop sleeping in so late. I try to explain that my work and school schedules keep me out past 3am most mornings, but I am ignored. Furious, I jump the railing of the staircase to reach the ground so I can leave and stay in a hotel for the night.
(I awake just before hitting the ground.)