Catholic church. Choir/music. I'm being bumped around by big booties of the black women dancing on both sides of me in the pew. The stern-faced white people look at us in disapproval. I notice I am the only white person enjoying myself. After church, I am leaving. Lots of older people (mostly black, some white) are sitting in pews, waiting. There is no preacher, apparently the service has ended. I walk past the man who I thought was the preacher (red-haired) as I am saying "there's got to be something wrong with the church if everyone is sitting down waiting but no one is teaching them. Then I try suggesting ideas for Sunday school. Isn't there a curriculum that just anyone can teach. He goes to his Catholic books (on a computer screen) & I notice in his titles of stacked books in the 1920s Art Nouveau style a book about Bohemian Philosophy or something. I say "this is where I come from/started/ideas etc." And he pulls it out and takes me on a journey through a story of violence and death...something to do with a wax (red) letter sealer (like on the book "The Secret" maybe?). It morphs into a wooden megaphone of some sort and I walk down the aisles holding it while it is spewing its recordings. I pretend I'm talking & realize when I speak the recording stops & everyone is listening to me. I say some silly things, make some silly sounds as if to play the class clown to take the serious attention off of me (it makes me uncomfortable), then I hurry and run out.
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