I dreamed I was sitting at home with the Photographer when we heard voices and footsteps on the stairs. Apparently we left the door unlocked because two Italian men wearing black walked right in. I stood up and went to the door, stunned, and asked them what they were doing here. They were mildly surprised to see that anyone was in the apartment, but it didn’t seem to bother them too much, all told. They started to explain to me in lengthy, broken English that they were here to take pictures. Apparently they’d been using the apartment when it was empty and saw no reason their plans should be disrupted just because people lived here now. It was late at night. They started heading for one of the back rooms to set up. I asked how long this would take. They said, 3-4 minutes, tops. I told them they had until 10:40, and then they were leaving. They shut the door.
More people came, and soon the house was full. They were no longer taking pictures. They had an older gentleman, an opera singer, in one of the bedrooms, and they were recording. Some of the people outside were telling me how fortunate I was, that this man was a very talented artist, and here he was singing and recording in my apartment. I looked at the clock. It was 10:40. I told people they had to leave, and everyone outside of the bedroom started for the door. One man sincerely wished me luck whenever I got around to recording my opera music as well. I was perplexed, so I just said thanks and ushered him out.
The man in the bedroom was still singing. I knocked on the door. No response. I pounded on the door, but it had no effect. I felt slightly bad about this; the man singing really was talented, and the music was beautiful, but I was furious with the two Italian men, who appeared to be agents of some sort.This apartment was my space, and they were invading it without any regard for people living here. They would have to go somewhere else.
Waking up, I remembered another dream and thought, these damn musicians are conspiring to keep me awake.