Entry tags:
Monastery gift shop
I dreamed I was walking in the vicinity of my grandparents' old church on the border of Passaic. In place of the church was what seemed to be a small Buddhist monastery. The interior was a bright orange, and several people were milling about. On the inside there were arranged myriad shelves, so it looked more like a New Age gift shop than anything else, and instead of the typical Buddhist statuary there were a variety of strange statues of unrecognizable deities, all about the size of a thumb, and esoteric works printed in languages I couldn't read.
Feeling conspicuous, I tried to amiably peruse the shelves. The place smelled strongly of incense but from no particular point of origin. I was accosted by a very tall man of East Asian descent, bespectacled and wearing all black. He began to talk rapidly, and before I knew it had placed what seemed to be a passport in my hands (it looked like a leather holder for a restaurant bill, and inside was more indecipherable language). He apparently thought I was there to "join the order," as it were, so he began giving me a comprehensive overview of its history, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was merely looking for an opportunity to escape, as I knew that I would have to pay $10 for the "passport," at minimum, and I am cheap.
More people entered the "monastery," with the dinging of bells like a regular store. I managed to detach myself from the acolyte, who turned his attention to the new arrivals. I drifted deeper into the building, and found what looked to be a dimly lit commercial kitchen. There was a huge pot on the stove, and some young kids playing around. Everyone there seemed to be preparing for Christmas, no less; there was tinsel on the ceiling, and various winter displays. Why were they preparing for Christmas in a Buddhist monastery,? And why was the monastery itself filled with weird figures, and really nothing more than an exaggerated retail operation?
I left the kitchen and, noting that the acolyte's attention was still diverted by new "customers," lodged the "passport" behind some random statuary and popped out the screen door, a different exit that seemed to be unmarked. Nobody chased after me, thankfully, and I saved myself ten bucks.
Feeling conspicuous, I tried to amiably peruse the shelves. The place smelled strongly of incense but from no particular point of origin. I was accosted by a very tall man of East Asian descent, bespectacled and wearing all black. He began to talk rapidly, and before I knew it had placed what seemed to be a passport in my hands (it looked like a leather holder for a restaurant bill, and inside was more indecipherable language). He apparently thought I was there to "join the order," as it were, so he began giving me a comprehensive overview of its history, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was merely looking for an opportunity to escape, as I knew that I would have to pay $10 for the "passport," at minimum, and I am cheap.
More people entered the "monastery," with the dinging of bells like a regular store. I managed to detach myself from the acolyte, who turned his attention to the new arrivals. I drifted deeper into the building, and found what looked to be a dimly lit commercial kitchen. There was a huge pot on the stove, and some young kids playing around. Everyone there seemed to be preparing for Christmas, no less; there was tinsel on the ceiling, and various winter displays. Why were they preparing for Christmas in a Buddhist monastery,? And why was the monastery itself filled with weird figures, and really nothing more than an exaggerated retail operation?
I left the kitchen and, noting that the acolyte's attention was still diverted by new "customers," lodged the "passport" behind some random statuary and popped out the screen door, a different exit that seemed to be unmarked. Nobody chased after me, thankfully, and I saved myself ten bucks.