What do you represent in my subconscious, Arthur?
I did think recently of a conversation I had with him, pretty much the last time I saw the bloke (which'd be over 20 years ago now). I told him there was no need to apologize (as he just had), it was okay (that we hadn't been hanging out those last few years, despite being at the same school), and that I just figured he and I would sit down together in 30 years and have one helluva conversation. (He was a wordy sort, too---fellow faculty brat.) I also recalled, while washing dishes, our funny little (queer) stab at romance, back when he was at Cross-Town High. Our attempt at a kiss was as comically bad as his comically bad driving. Only arguably less dangerous.
In the (dream) theater this time, we were changing our choice of seats. In the middle, trying to sense where would be good to alight, I noticed something ever so furtive in his manner & thought maybe he wanted to be, to avoid possible harrassment, at least a coupla rows away from three (sorta) toughs sitting right behind where we were kinda heading to up until then. On that hunch I pointed towards a few seats that'd meet that criterion but not be fully illogical for us to've been going to. (It was assumed in the dream that we were unspokenly on the same page---that if we were to speak of it later we'd have known more or less what each other was thinking.)
His hair was crazy, like it was. I don't recall his looks in the earlier dream. In that one he was surprising me, leading the way to our bizarrely big, cushy high-back seats on the (center) aisle some many rows back.
Didn't get to the actual show in either dream. Hunh?