Saturday, June 30, 2012

flood party; "i'm a virgin star"

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was inside some huge indoor area that was flooded. The place was huge, like a convention center, but it somehow had the look of a living room. It was like, above the surface of the water, there were dry areas, along the walls of the huge space, that looked like little living rooms.

The water had risen to its crest, I believe. But it was still surging and waving a little. I was in the middle of it all. It was hard to keep my head above water after the little surges and waves. It was like I was being pulled down deep below the surface.

There were a man above the surface and a woman below the surface. Both people, I believe, were Asian, probably young, and both good looking. I think I'd see the woman when I'd get sucked below the surface. I'd think the woman was kind and pretty. But the man, when I'd come above the surface, would tell me not to let the woman suck me under. He told me the woman would keep me under if I let her suck me under.

I was now wary of the woman. I got sucked under again. But I saw the woman again, and somehow she convinced me to stay under the water for a little bit longer. She was really cute. She wore a tight, leopard print tank top and tiny, blue jean shorts.

I had descended all the way down to the bottom of the water. I was now afraid. I had done what the man had told me not to do. Would I drown? I could feel that I'd need air soon.

But now I found I could breathe underwater. I looked around. It was like there was a little living room down here. I was surprised. But, I thought, it looked like the perfect place to have parties. Probably, I thought, this woman invites people over all the time to have wild parties. I thought that now that I lived down here with the woman, I'd have to deal with all these annoying wild parties.

The woman, I knew, had swum up to the surface. I kept waiting for her to return. I think I really wanted to see her legs again, in those tiny jean shorts.

Dream #2

I was driving a vehicle with my brother at night. We were driving down a road like a main road that ran just along the suburban residential neighborhood my family lived in when I was in high school. The vehicle I drove was something like a mix between some sort of cargo truck and a motor home. But the front area, the cabin, seemed somehow to be separated from the motor home part. The cabin also seemed to have two or more seats behind the front row of seats. My brother sat in one of the backseats.

At some point in time my mother got into the car. She may have come in through the driver's side door. But I was still driving, while my mom sat in the front passenger's seat. My mom may have started making comments about my driving, probably about how she thought I didn't know where I was going.

I tried to ignore my mom and just keep my thoughts on the road. But now my mom had pulled some of my notebook journals out of a book bag or backpack I had lying on the floor. She started making comments about how some of the stuff I had written was inappropriate. She may even have torn pages out of the notebooks or threatened to tear the pages out.

I was really angry that my mom had messed around with my notebooks. I told her to put my notebooks away and leave my stuff alone. Now she was really offended. She may have been silent in a really sulky way, or she may have said some really needling things to me, to make me feel bad for having criticized her.

I did feel bad, now. But I wasn't going to apologize. I wasn't going to lose focus of the road either. My mom had no right just going through my stuff the way she did.

I knew where I needed to get now. I knew I needed to get to a certain street (I can't remember) in a certain neighborhood. I knew that no way would be quick. But I knew there was a somewhat direct way, given where we were. I knew I had to go up to a certain street and turn left. But I could only turn left on that street if I was paying attention the whole time. I kept myself in a frame of mind where I felt like I was paying attention.

Suddenly, though, there were a bunch of women walking through the street in the opposite direction from my vehicle. There were maybe twenty of them. They all looked, I guess, like Gretel in the fairy tale of "Hansel and Gretel." They wore white caps with hook-shaped twists coming down over the ears and then back up. They wore yellow-skirted dresses with black tops and white shirts underneath. The tops seemed to be laced somehow. They all seemed to be part of some club. And they were all walking at random through the street.

I was doing everything I could to dodge all the Gretel girls and to keep my focus on where I needed to turn. But at one point my mom grabbed the steering wheel. She forced the steering wheel over so that the vehicle pulled all the way over to the left (my left) side of the road. It seemed like we almost hit a few Gretel girls as we veered to the side of the road. But they all seemed to have gotten out of our way.

My mom had now made me a nervous wreck. I stopped the car. My mom was yelling and screaming at me about how I'd almost hit all those girls. The vehicle was swaying too and fro. Even though I was still in the big vehicle, it actually felt like I was on something that I was having a hard time balancing, like a motorcycle. I told my mom that I was done driving while she was in the vehicle. If she wanted us to go anywhere, she could drive.

I pulled the vehicle over into some dirt lot, which may have been an RV lot. My mom and brother and I got out. My sister may now also have been with us, as well as a couple other family members, maybe some of my nephews. All the lights in the vehicle were on, and the headlights of the vehicle were also left on.

As we got out of the vehicle, my ex-girlfriend H came walking up to me. She was holding some books or notebooks. She said she was so happy finally to see everybody in my family. Everybody else was walking away from the vehicle. So I told H that I'd introduce her to everybody in a moment. She may have tried interacting with them already, although they hadn't seemed to interact with her. I realized I hadn't told my family anything about H. So they didn't know her to interact with her.

H's lips were all messed up. It was like the flesh of her lips had been replaced with something like a dried pudding, or maybe scabs. Her lips didn't puff out, either. They were flat, even a tiny bit sunken in.

H and I headed up into the vehicle. The living area part of the vehicle could now be accessed through the back end of the cabin. There was a kind of tall bed. I had my bookbag on the bed.

H was asking me something about how my life was going. I was trying to explain to her that my job in Colorado really wasn't working out, and that I had to find something else to do. I told her something about some project somewhere. It was some kind of project, maybe scientific, that somebody had approached me about without my having made any first contact with them. But it ended up sounding like something I really wanted to do.

But when I'd thought about doing it, I explained to H, I hesitated. I'd come back to Colorado to be with my family. This assignment would take me out of Colorado. So I didn't know if it really would be right for me to do it.

I knew that I had all the documents relating to the project in my book bag. I could see in my mind's eye the cover of some book. The cover was blue, with a white drawing of one hemisphere of a globe. There were possibly white drawings of something like olive leafs crossing below the drawing of the globe.

I thought if I could show the documentation to H, she could see what I was talking about. Maybe she'd be impressed that this organization contacted me directly to ask me to work for them. But when I pulled the documents out of my bookbag -- I saw that the offer had expired! I was supposed to reply by a certain time. I'd missed the window. The offer was no longer good!

I threw the papers down on the ground and began crying. I told H, "It doesn't matter anymore! It doesn't matter! It's all over with! I can't do anything!" I walked over to the windshield of the vehicle. I looked down into the light from the headlights to see if I could find my family.

Everything went black. I may have still been having some sort of conversation with H. The conversation may have continued as the light faded back in. I found myself in a subway station, something like the Times Square subway station. I was heading up out of the station.

But I was stuck behind three young men. The men were either white or white and Hispanic. They wore baggy t-shirts, cocked baseball caps, and baggy jean shorts. They were walking in all kinds of weird ways. At some point either I may have wondered whether they had something wrong with their legs, or else they may actually have had something wrong with their legs.

I went up either an escalator or staircase behind these guys. It was hard to get around them. I got around them as everybody passed through the exit turnstiles of the station. But then we all turned left through some small, kind of dumpy-looking shopping area. The guys had managed to loop around some column where nobody had been walking and get right in front of me again. They were still walking around all crazy and laughing with each other, like they enjoyed slowing down people's walking. But I don't think they were aware of me in particular.

Finally a lot of us who had exited the subway were heading up an escalator into a shopping center. I knew I couldn't stand waiting behind these guys at all anymore. I had to get up ahead of them before we all got jammed onto this escalator. So I maneuvered my way ahead of the guys. The guys all seemed surprised that I'd gotten past them. Maybe I'd done it a little forcibly or awkwardly. The guys may have been offended. I hoped not. I didn't want to get in a fight with them later on.

I was now in a real hurry just to get out of wherever I was trying to get out of or to get to wherever I was trying to get to. I also wanted to get enough distance between me and the guys that they couldn't catch back up with me and pass me later on, maybe making some comment like "Why didn't you just stay behind us, if we were going to pass you anyway?"

The escalator was really steep. But I was running up it two steps at a time. I could even sense that the guys behind me were kind of amazed that I was so serious about getting wherever I needed to go.

There were a lot fewer people on the escalator by the time I got to the top of it. I was now on the floor of what looked like a shopping mall. But I knew I still had to keep going up. There was another escalator. I had to run to and up that escalator as well. This escalator was even steeper than the last. There was probably nobody other than me on this escalator. It was really difficult for me to get to the top of it. But I managed.

I was on another floor like a floor in a shopping mall. I could see another escalator. This one was really small, and the steps on it almost looked like steps on a regular old staircase. I ran to it. But getting up it was unbelievably difficult. I was already extremely exhausted. And the steps were so steep, it was almost like climbing backwards. And -- I could see, just beyond this escalator, that I had one last escalator to climb -- a tall one -- even steeper than the rest!

At the top of the small escalator I decided to take a break. I may have determined that I was far, far ahead of the guys now and that I didn't need to worry about them anymore. I was on another floor like the floor of a shopping mall. I sat down on a rather nice bench which seemed to be cushioned and upholstered in something like brown fake suede.

Off to my right was a shop with a dark front. It looked like a clothing store inside -- some kind of dimly lit, trendy clothing store, perhaps. But on the left (my left) side of the shop front was a slim, glass window with a TV screen.

The TV screen was playing some music video. The music video was colorful, with yellows and pinks and whites, and I liked it a lot. It may have looked like it was from the 1980s. But I can't remember it now. But I had the ability to control the TV, maybe by a game joystick. And I played the video two or three times in a row.

A second music video now played. It also looked like it was from the 1980s. But the color scheme was a lot more drab and sinister. There were a couple, a man and a woman, watching the screen now. They must have come from inside the shop. As the couple watched the screen I realized that the space around the screen was  filled with something like a Japanese scroll, patterned with something like orange and green flowers, very blocky and circular, on a white background.

After a moment, though, they walked away from the screen. The couple were white, somewhat well-off looking, and maybe in their late thirties or early forties. The woman was pretty. The man was overweight, balding, with a red beard and a little red hair and eyeglasses. Both the man and the woman were wearing kimonos. One wore a purple kimono with white designs. Another wore an orange kimono with white designs.

I was kind of surprised that an older white couple would be walking through the mall wearing kimonos. But now I saw another white couple walking out of the clothing shop wearing kimonos. One of the kimonos was mint green. Then there were three or four more white people, these ones single or in a group of friends, walking out of the shop and also wearing kimonos! I was surprised, but I probably just assumed that this was the new fashion.

I went back to the music video. It was finishing, and I wanted to replay it. But a man who had sat down beside me while I'd been looking at all the kimono people now had the joystick. He wanted to play some other music video.

I figured that would be cool. I'd gotten kind of obsessed with the first music video. And I didn't want to get obsessed with the second music video, too. But I would have, if this man hadn't been here to stop me. Besides, it would be nice to see someone else's tastes in music. You always learned cool, new artists that way.

But the man was having a hell of a time figuring out how to get a music video to play. I'm not sure if he'd made me feel like I shouldn't help him. But I didn't help him. I just waited for him to figure out how to work the joystick so he could play a music video. But after a moment, I realized it was going to take him a really long time to figure things out.

I stood up and walked away from the area. It was like I was in the kitchen of some kind of big, but run-down house. But the kitchen was supposed to be more like the living room of the house. There was a tall stairway leading up to some place that I felt like I needed to get to. So I headed toward the staircase.

But the man, sensing that I was annoyed with his having taken control of the joystick and then having no idea of what to do with it, but still wanting to keep me around -- just to control me, I guess -- called after me, in a kind of loose, but menacing tone, "Hey, stay upstairs." The man meant that I should stay on the floor I was currently on. Apparently there was a downward staircase as well as the upward one, though I couldn't see it. The man thought I was taking the downward staircase, but he didn't want me to.

I knew it wasn't that he didn't want me to go downstairs. It was that he didn't want me to leave this floor -- his sphere of control. But I went upstairs anyway. I figured that if the man bugged me about it later, I'd just tell him that I thought when he'd told me to stay upstairs he'd simply meant that I shouldn't go downstairs.

The staircase was long and steep, and it got dimmer and dimmer as I went up. Finally I was in a small room, kind of like a bedroom. It was really cluttered and dim, though there was a light coming from some other room -- apparently a tiny staircase that went up into an attic -- off to my right.

I realized this was my old friend Y's bedroom. I don't know if Y went on vacation for a little while or went to live somewhere for a longer time. But she'd left a lot of stuff here. She had a bunch of old movies, books, and music that I was either familiar with and liked a lot or that I'd been curious about but had never gotten a chance to check out.

There was a bookshelf along the left wall. I went as close to it as I could -- it seemed to be blocked off by a bunch of haphazardly placed and stacked furniture -- cushiony, upholstered with some kind of fake, blue suede or crushed velvet material. But I could reach over the furniture to one of the upper shelves.

I pulled down a few DVD cases. The DVDs were anime DVDs. The titles all seemed almost, but not quite, familiar to me. It was like they were all series based very closely on series I was familiar with, but with just a few odd, unsettling differences. The titles also seemed to be like that -- almost familiar, but with weird, unsettling differences.

One of the DVD cases showed a tall, long-legged woman with short brown hair, and wearing a short, yellow tank top and tiny, yellow shorts, leaning her bottom against the left side of the DVD case and carrying a fancy parasol in one of her hands.

I was interested in one of the DVDs. I thought I'd play it. I was now watching it -- probably in my mind's eye, although my mind's eye had expanded into my full view. The cartoon dealt with a young demon character. The character was young and naive, but he looked old, almost like Cherry in Urusei Yatsura. There was another demon who looked like the young demon, except that he was much older, purple, more demon-like, and naked.

The setting was some big, empty, wooden room, like some kind of traditional Japanese room. But it was apparently supposed to be used for washing dishes. The young demon had made a mistake and had broken a dish. The older demon knew how to play on the young demon's sense of guilt. He wanted to young demon to go away. So he was trying to make the young demon feel like the broken dish would put him in a very dangerous, or at least shameful, situation with the master.

The young demon believed this and was about to leave the master's residence. But some accident occurred. It was like, without the young demon's will, the young demon's magic created, or at least assisted, the situation. Every plate in the room was swept up, broken, shattered into tiny, tiny pieces of dust. The plate dust spun and spun around the room, like a cyclone, eventually whirling in purple clouds against the walls.

The young demon himself was pushed back against the walls. It was almost like the cloud of plate dust was pulverizing him into the wall, integrating him into the wall. But eventually the cloud of plate dust subsided. Everything seemed to be okay. Either all the plates were fixed, or else all the plates had reconfigured themselves into something that was enough value to replace the plates as they had been before.

The young demon stepped out from the wall. He now looked like the older demon. He was purple, more demon-like than human, more featureless, with purple wings coming off his back, and naked. He now understood -- or at least the audience understood -- that the older demon had been playing around with the young demon this whole time. The one dish the young demon had broken didn't matter. The older demon had made a lot more mistakes than that in his life. And now the older demon was paying for all his tricks.

The young demon looked over to a doorway that was on the wall to his right. The wall around the doorway now looked like a tree trunk. And now, embedded in the wall, where the canopy of this tree would have been, was a gigantic plate. The plate was veined over with tree roots, but other than that it was whole, embedded into the wall. The young demon understood that that was what had happened, either to the plates that had been in the plate dust cyclone, or else to the plates that the old demon had broken.

And now the young demon saw the older demon's face printed onto the giant plate, drawn onto it like one of Leonardo's old drawings. The young demon knew that the older demon was trapped on the plate forever. The older demon looked angry. The young demon knew that if the older demon could ever escape, he would try to find a way to hurt the young demon. But the young demon knew that the older demon would never escape.

There was now a strange scene, showing, somehow, the torture the older demon was going through. There was a close up on the demon's face. It pulled closer and closer in, until it got up to the demon's eye. Then, inside the demon's eye, the demon's face reappeared. The view pulled closer and closer to that demon's eye. Then the demon's face appeared in that eye. This tunnel effect happened again and again, until finally the view approached an eye that was shut. The eye opened -- and it was blank!

The cartoon faded to black. I now realized I was watching, not a DVD, but a VCR tape. The cartoon I'd been watching had been dubbed onto this tape by my friend Y. I now waited to see what the next thing was that my friend Y had dubbed onto this tape.

An experimental film faded into view. I knew that the film was by an experimental filmmaker both Y and I liked quite a bit. The basic theme of the film was showing the filmmaker's daughters. There would be an old, black and white photo of one of the daughters as a child. Then a superimposed, color film image of the daughter would fade into view. The daughter would be moving, probably doing some sort of repetitive motion that the filmmaker was accustomed to see her doing.

The film may have shown one older daughter and then the youngest daughter. As the film showed the youngest daughter, I reflected on how pretty the girl had been as a little girl. Although she was pretty as she'd gotten older, something about her face had changed. She wasn't overweight. But something about her face had made her seem overweight. (I'm sorry for the shallow thought.)

The film now faded away and I was looking at the youngest daughter in real life. She was in some bathroom in some apartment or hotel on some high floor. I stood just outside the bathroom, looking up to the woman, more as if I were a small child than myself.

The woman was maybe nineteen or twenty years old. She was tall, with tan skin, a kind of athletic build, and short, blonde and brown hair in a squarish, boyish style. She wore a white tank top, maybe with another, colored, tank top beneath it.

The woman was putting on blue eye shadow and practicing making sexy faces in the mirror. I had the idea that the woman was making sexy faces in hopes of seducing a woman. I felt like the woman really didn't like boys. But the way she was making sexy faces was really turning me on. I had to talk to her.

So, hoping to start out neutral and see how far I could get from there, I asked the woman something about film making. The woman, instead of facing the mirror, was now standing behind the bathroom counter, in the spot where the mirror had been. She was really dressed up, and now her hair was long, probably done up in an upward style, She wore a mask that looked like blue eyeshadow, except that it went straight up, like her eyelids were poking all the way up to the top of her forehead.

The woman could tell that I was only talking innocent to get some sort of starting point with her, and that I was really looking to seduce her. So, in order to throw me off and make me understand she didn't and wouldn't like me, she told me, "I'm a virgin star!"

I understood and left the woman alone, although I did seem to be impressed that someone as sexy as she was could be a virgin star. We were now heading out of the hotel or apartment building, walking toward the front doors through a airy and bright, but rather empty, foyer. I stopped about halfway through the foyer and watched as the woman met up with a few of her friends -- male and female. The friends all looked tall, well-dressed, and well-off. I still felt as tiny as a child, maybe only about 75cm tall.

At some point everybody in the group turned around to look at me. Either one of the group asked me something about David Bowie, or I asked the group something about David Bowie. It immediately became apparent that I knew David Bowie. And now, because of this, I went from being totally ignored to being paid attention to by everybody in the group.

Friday, June 29, 2012

insubordinate identities; orgy superstar; forehead mustache

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was dealing with some sort of dream (? - I have a feeling that on some level I knew this was a dream) entity who was really sensitive and could become angry really easy. I don't know whether he was good or bad. But apparently I was trying to work with him because if I didn't appease him he was going to destroy something.

But I ran into trouble with the man when I was no longer able to control some parts of my own identity. I could see my identity as three women. The women were all supposed to be identical. They all had the same body form and the same kind of shoulder-length, but almost bowl-cut-like, black hair. Their eyes were weird, like they were wearing sunglasses without actually wearing any glasses.

These three female identities of myself may have been naked. One of them may have been completely visible. Another may have been silvery, like a silver mannequin of a person. The other was transparent, like a clear, plastic model of a person. At some point they may have stood in the opening doors of a train like a subway train, out at a train station stop surrounded by fields of tall grass, under a deep blue sky.

I had the idea that one of the women was supposed to help me control my dream. But none of the women seemed to have that trait. One of the women would do the reverse of anything I asked. Another woman may have acted completely at random. I can't remember what the third woman would do.

The man seemed to understand the situation. But I knew that I had to stop the women from acting. Because if they did anything that made it look like I was betraying the man, the man would only blame me, not my identities. But the man still understood the situation enough to think it was funny. The man even made some remark to me about not being able to control myself or my identities.

I was possibly trying to get to the man. I was on a subway. But I realized I had gone the wrong way on the train. My identities may have been with me. The man may have laughed again -- from wherever he was -- about my not even being able to go the right way on the train.

The train door opened outside, in one of the upper levels of a sports stadium. There were a whole bunch of people both inside and outside the train car. I rushed out of the car and into the packed crowd of people. I ran over to the staircase at the bottom of this level. I rushed down the staircase while a whole bunch of other people were rushing up -- though maybe some other people were also rushing down.

At the bottom of the staircase was another subway platform. The train arriving at this platform would take me back to where I'd come from. Then I could get off this train and get back on the train I had just been on. And then I'd be able to get to the right place.

When I thought of all the stops on this particular train line, I realized that a lot of them serviced just this stadium. It was like this single stadium was so big that it could take up almost an entire train line.

Dream #2

I was in a room in some small apartment. There was a group of men and women with me. The men and women were all at least somewhat attractive, all in about their late twenties or early thirties. We had all finished some kind of task. Now some people decided that we should have a sexual orgy.

I was sitting on the floor -- I think the apartment had one table, but no chairs. Two men pulled off their clothes and lay down by me. I was feeling kind of sexually excited by them. They were already starting to have sex. I may have stood up in search of a sexual partner. Other people may now have been taking their clothes off and preparing to have sex.

The two men who were having sex were supposed to be in demand by a lot of people. But people had to wait until the two men were done having sex with each other before they could have sex with one or both of the men.

I was drifting away, possibly with some other people in the group, to some other location. I had gone far away from the apartment. But there was a tube that reached all the way from the apartment to where my group was. This tube was clear and made of some kind of thin plastic or latex. The plastic itself had a yellowish tinge to it. The tube was maybe 20cm in diameter.

Some clear gel was pumping through the tube. I knew this gel was sperm from the two men. As they had sex with each other, they just kept pumping more and more sperm through this tube, all the way over to where the group now was.

But there may have been something wrong with the sperm tube. I needed to go check it out. I went all the way back to the apartment. I was now walking up to the front door of the apartment, following the sperm tube as I walked. I thought to myself that maybe it would finally be my turn to have sex. But I thought that it was probably still unlikely. The two men would still be pumping their sperm away. And if I even slightly bugged them about finishing up, it would never be my turn for sex.

I went into the house. I could see that everybody was taking off their clothes, getting ready to have an orgy. But everybody in the apartment seemed to have Down Syndrome. People took off their clothes and lay on the floor. That was when I got good views of their bodies. Some of the men had nice bodies. Some of the women almost had nice bodies, except that their breasts and hips were exaggerated in size and really saggy. Other men and women were really chubby. I wasn't attracted to anybody. I decided not to have sex.

As everybody started to have sex, the scene shifted to a park scene. Everybody having sex was on some open, dry, dusty area, like an overused sports field. I sat at the edge of this field with a number of other people. The area we sat on was also pretty dry and dusty. But it sloped up a tiny bit, and there seemed to be pine needles covering the ground, as if pine trees were behind us somewhere. The whole seating area and the whole dusty orgy-field were all covered over with shade from huge tree canopies, through which little fragments of sunlight would occasionally peep through.

I sat on the ground with my knees almost up to my chest, looping my arms around my knees. Other people sat on the ground, while some sat on a couple of benches and some stood. We were all watching the people on the field having sex. Now it seemed like none of the people having sex had a body type that I liked at all. I was actually getting kind of bored with watching the people have sex.

There was apparently a restaurant, like a Denny's, behind the slope that I sat on. A group of people came out from the restaurant, out onto the slope. The group seemed to be a few families. Among the families were a number of pretty girls. I backed up to get a better view of the pretty girls. One of them had tan skin and brown hair. I liked her a lot.

The families all seemed to be curious about what the group I was with was watching. Suddenly I realized that if the girl saw what I was watching she would think I was a pervert. I backed up from the orgy as much as I could, while still staying seated on the ground.

I realized my "shoulder straps" had come undone while I had been watching the orgy. I pulled them back up over my shoulders. It was then I realized I'd been wearing girls-style, white denim overalls with short leggings. Something about the overalls was also bunched up or ruffled, maybe around the leggings and on the chest. I wasn't wearing a shirt or anything else (including underwear, I think) under the overalls. My outfit may have had something in common with the pretty girl's outfit. But I may have been too embarrassed at my own outfit to notice.

When everybody else saw how I was backing away from the orgy, they all said, "Ah, look... Preemie's bored with this whole thing. This show's getting boring. Let's just say the show's over."

Suddenly the show was over, just like it had been scheduled. Now another group of performers walked up onto the lot. But the lot was now made of asphalt. And, somehow, it was re-oriented: 90 degrees to the left of where it had previously been.

The group of performers all made it obvious to me, possibly by singing a little snatch or two from a song, that they were going to perform the musical Jesus Christ Superstar. I was excited, as I've always liked that musical. The group all stood in a grid-like formation and began to sing.

I might not have been able to understand the group's singing. So I stood up to get closer and hear better. But as I got closer, I was kind of disappointed. The song didn't sound familiar to me at all. Were these guys performing a newer version of the musical?

I listened closer to the song. The group was actually singing about plot elements from the old Bible cartoon Superbook! The group may even have said the word "Superbook." I told myself, Oh, no! This isn't Jesus Christ Superstar. It's a musical for the cartoon of Superbook!

I may have been planning to get out of here. But as I was walking away I kept trying to pull my backpack (???) back onto my shoulders. But the straps of the backpack were so small. I kept trying to pull the right strap onto my right arm. But right before it got to the shoulder, it just wouldn't fit. It felt tighter and tigher. It was squeezing my arm like some black rubber band. I thought to myself, Man! Have I gained a lot of weight recently? This backpack used to fit me!

Dream #3

I was at some event like a fair or a Renaissance festival. I stood out on a wide, asphalt walkway. There were a lot of people, all walking around to different small shops or booths. But nobody really got near me. The sky overhead was greyish white with thin clouds. It was probably a warm day.

I pulled some object out of my pocket. It flipped open, like a flip-phone. It was just a little larger than a flip-phone. But it wasn't a phone. It was kind of like a mirror: it shone or reflected in a silvery way, like a mirror. But what it really was was a picture of myself from when I was in college.

I looked at myself from that photo. I looked just about the same as I look now, except that I had a weird mustache. The mustache went down primly from the center of my nose. Then at the top of my lip, it curved sharply back up. As it spread out at the corners of my mouth, it kind of twisted out like a handlebar mustache. But the "handlebars" looked disgusting. It was like they were made of overused, black toothbrush bristles. The edges of the mustache were so spiky and worn-out looking and gross.

Looking at myself, I asked myself, How could I possibly have let myself look like that while I was in college?

I looked at the photo again. I noticed that I also had a mustache just above my eyebrows. It was like a handlebar mustache as well. But it was much smaller and tighter. For some reason it made complete sense to me that I'd had a mustache on my forehead.


UPDATE: A post relating to images in these dreams can be found at this entry of my dreamday journal.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

the burning-up disease; can't let go; central gossip

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in some room like a side room or a storage room in a large building like a high school or a college. But the side room was also filled with desks, like it was a classroom itself. I sat at one of the desks.

An older woman, like Mary Carrillo in Entre Tinieblas, stood behind me, looking over my shoulder. I was writing in a notebook. I was apparently writing gossip about movie stars. But it was also like I was writing gossip about the woman's family, friends, or business associates.

This was apparently my job, and now my work day was over. I stood up out of my desk. The older woman, who was probably my boss, told me what elements of gossip I was missing about people. I would need to fill this gossip into the stuff I was writing.

As I stood out of my desk, a young man, maybe Southeast Asian, with dark skin and short hair, and wearing a blue, button-up shirt and tie, walked into the room. He prepared to sit down in the desk in front of my desk. This man was a financial researcher. He now worked either for one of my old bosses or somebody like one of my old bosses.

The man's boss came into the room now. He was really lighting into the young man, who may now have been sitting, about how terrible some of his recent work had been, and how he needed to improve so much. I came to understand that the quality of my old work had been much higher than the quality of this man's work.

The woman was gone, but I had another boss, probably like one of my old bosses. This boss of mine may have told me about how good my work was. He probably then told me some things I'd need to do when I came in to work the next day. I was leaving for the night on very good terms with my boss. This probably made the other worker jealous.

I walked out of the building, which was now a lot like a college building. It was night, but there were a lot of people walking into or around the building. The building had a glass wall where the doors were. But the glass was was nestled in between two semicircular, sweeping brick structures. Before the entrance to the building was a wide, concrete plaza-like area. Beyond that was a parking lot which mostly lay in darkness.

There were a few black women walking in toward the building. Some of them were walking alongside their bicycles. There may also have been a few black women walking out from the building. I may have been worried that they were walking faster than me and that I needed to speed up.

I got out to a sidewalk that ran alongside a road connecting the parking lot to the outside road. It was pretty dark here. I knew I had to catch a bus. The bus seemed pretty far away. I had to walk down this road to the main road. I had to turn right onto the main road and head up some hill that ran along the grounds of this school. I then had to turn right and walk some distance along a back road to get to the bus stop.

But it was already almost time for the bus to arrive. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to catch the bus at all. But I thought there was a small chance that if I ran I could catch the bus. So at first I began walking really fast, and then I began running.

But as I was running I heard a voice tell me that I shouldn't put too much effort into my running. I was now in some room with an old, tall, thin man in a white lab coat. The man was telling me about the effects on the bodies of people who had overexerted themselves in really hot weather (although I don't remember the weather having been hot).

The man may have shown me photos or films of, or just vividly told me about, one person in particular. This person overexerted himself in hot weather. He had something like a heart attack -- his heart just locked, froze up. But then the rest of his body malfunctioned. His body heat kept rising and rising, until finally his insides just began melting.

I may have asked the man not to tell me anymore about this man, or even about this disease. I may have tried to walk to another room, just to get away from the man's gruesome stories. This room was like a classroom. But it didn't have any school desks in it, and it was divided in certain places by curtains like curtains dividing bed spaces from each other in a hospital room.

The man sat right outside or on the threshold of one of these curtained areas, in a pale, wooden chair. Just inside the curtained area was a big desk like a teacher's desk. A sexy nurse sat at the desk, working away at  a report or some kind of paperwork.

The man was continuing to tell me about the burning-up disease. He told me that as the burning-up disease progressed, actual layers of skin would peel away from a person's body, just curling backward. He may have said that this began at the extremities of the body.

To prove this to me, the man was holding a white, plastic trash bag with a man's hand in it. I couldn't see the man's hand, but I knew that there were sections of the hand where the skin was peeling backwards. But instead of the skin peeling backward and revealing red or pink flesh beneath, it just revealed more and more whitish, rubbery skin.

Dream #2

I was flying through the air with my brother. I don't know what kind of aircraft we were in, or whether we were in an aircraft at all. I was definitely at least partly exposed to the air.

My brother was in control of the flight, and he was flying really erratically. This may partly have been because he was fighting or maneuvering around something like a dragon. But he was also flying really crazy just because he wanted to shake me up, possibly even to get me thrown out of the air altogether.

I don't know whether my brother knew this, but I was holding onto a notebook. The notebook had important information in it, and I couldn't let go of it. It was hard enough to stay in the air with my brother's flying. But it was even harder to hold on to the notebook.

Now I was back on the ground. I'm not sure about my brother. I was moving through a street. I was moving along one of the lanes in the street, as if I were in a car. But I'm not sure I actually was in a car. I felt like I was out in the open air, floating maybe a meter above the ground, standing straight up, and moving along the road at about the speed of the car. Others on the road may have been doing the same thing, including a really cute, well-dressed, Asian girl.

I still had the notebook in my arms, even though I felt like I had lost something while I'd been up in the air. I was disappointed that I'd lost whatever I'd lost. But I thought I could at least boast to my brother, if it was ever brought up, that I hadn't lost the notebook.

I turned left down some road. I was then in a bedroom. The bedroom seemed big and nice, maybe with thick, wood walls. But it was all cluttered with stuff like blankets.  I was probably sitting on the floor, at something like a low desk, surrounded by all kinds of blankets. I may have been trying to do some kind of work, either in a notebook or on a computer.

But now my mom opened the door to my room. I think that when my mom opened the door, I could see into the halllway. I think it was then that I realized I was in some really big mansion.

My mom told me that my brother wanted to talk to me. He had some really big scheme for making a lot of money. And he wanted me to be in on it. The scheme also involved one of his friends. So he wanted me to meet his friend as well.

But I had a bad feeling about the whole thing. I already knew that I simply wouldn't be a part of any scheme my brother was putting together. But I was a little worried that I wouldn't be able to avoid meeting my brother's friend. I had a bad feeling, though, that if I met my brother's friend, that would bring a whole bunch of trouble into my life.

So I told my mom no, that I didn't want to see my brother. I may have told her that I was still mad at him for flying so crazy and almost making me lose my notebook.

But now I could see my brother beyond the doorway, coming up a thick, wooden staircase at the end of the hallway. Instead of talking to my mother, I was now walking out of the doorway and speaking directly to my brother.

I was so angry that I must have been scaring my brother. Instead of walking up the stairwell, he was now walking down it, backwards. He was still calling up to me, a really wild look in his eyes, talking about his scheme, and talking about this friend of his he wanted me to meet.

But finally I must have said something really insulting or upsetting to my brother. He finally stopped talking. But he seemed really sad, depressed. I felt bad for having told him whatever I'd told him.

We were now sitting down in something like a living room. My brother sat in a big, cushiony chair. I sat down on the floor. I may have been writing in a notebook, which may have rested on something like a stool. All around me and my brother was clutter, mostly stuff like bedding. At some point I may have apologized to my brother for whatever bad thing I'd said to him.

Dream #3

Possibly something about my needing to put together gossip about a Japanese pop group, maybe the group AKB 48. I saw a group of Japanese girls in plaid mini-skirts, yellow sweaters, and white button-up shirts walking down the street.

I may have felt like I had two groups of information -- which I may have visualized as two ends of a black and white photograph. But I may have felt like I needed one last piece of information, which would have been like the center of the photograph, except that it would have been in color, and it would have been real and living, not photographic at all.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

milk bomb; "he loved her for the first time"

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I may have been in an office setting on some high floor (maybe the 14th?) of a skyscraper. I stood out in half-open, corridor-like area. The fluorescent like was bright, not drab. The floor and walls were an orange-tan kind of color. I may have stood in front of my boss, who seemed a lot taller than I. He may have been telling me something about how I'd been fired.

I may then have been down at some area like a dock over a river like the Hudson River. But the dock was all made out of really nice, grey flagstone, almost like a walkway in a nice park than a dock. I had my back to the water and was facing a grouping of skyscrapers just past the foot of the dock. I may have been talking to somebody, maybe a woman, about getting a new job. Either I'd just been fired from my current job, or else I was really desperate to find a better job. 

Suddenly, just before the skyscrapers, rectangles of electric color began to pass upward through the air. It was like the rectangles of color were passing upward along some kind of clear, floating TV or computer screen. It was almost like I could see the outline of the transparent rectangle of the screen itself. Sometimes the rectangles passed upward in one single column. Other times they passed upward in three columns.

The rectangles were generally colored a dull blue or a dull orange. There may sometimes have been dull red rectangles as well. Most of the time each rectangle had yellow lettering on it, listing a job position and possibly -- sometimes -- the qualifications for the job and the pay.

The rectangles were listing all kinds of jobs. I kept looking for a bank job. I found a couple here and there. But they all seemed either to be filled or to have qualifications that I didn't meet. After a little while it seemed like every bank job was filled. Then it seemed hard even to find bank job listings. When I thought I'd found one, the rectangle looked all weird -- like its color was blocked by some kind of murky color. Apparently color had to do with the quality or availability of the job. But the murky color made it impossibly for me to tell anything about the job.

All through this search I may have been talking with the woman, who may have been a kind of young, Hispanic woman, maybe a little bit overweight, with a mature, slightly impatient, but very calm attitude. I may now have been deciding to give up on my search. This may have made the woman even more impatient with me, although she may also not have been surprised about my giving up.

It was now like I was standing at the foot of the dock, near where the dock met a wide promenade of flagstone, across from which were the skyscrapers. But there were stacks of cardboard boxes blocking my view of the skyscrapers.

I looked over the cardboard boxes. There were some men standing at the base of a skyscraper. The first couple of stories of the skyscraper were open to something like a loading dock or a parking garage. But the openings were partly blocked by cardboard boxes.

The group of men standing before the skyscraper were all in business suits. One of their co-workers stood behind the stack of boxes, inside the open area. This man was young but tall, very thin, and very pale. He had a shaved head and face. But his head and face still looked scraggly. He wore a baggy, probably dirty, white t-shirt and some kind of scrubby-looking pants.

The men in business suits were all going to lunch. I think they may have been trying to invite the other man. But, the men knew, the other man was kind of going insane. He was either going to be fired from his job or else he had been fired. But he was really obsessed with working, as if, because he wasn't going to be working in just a little while, he wanted to get as much done now as he possibly could.

But the men in business suits had gotten into some kind of argument with the man. They may only have done something like toss a few thinly-veiled insults at the man. But it had made the man really mad. The man had apparently already been planning to do something violent at the building. But the man was so angry that he decided to get violent now. 

The man pulled out something like a little canister. I could tell this was a bomb. I really didn't want to hear a bomb explode. So I ducked and crouched behind my stacks of cardboard boxes. At some point I felt like the bomb must have gone off. I stood up. I think when I looked up over the boxes again, the bomb had just gone off. 

The explosion of the bomb only had the look and sound of a cylindrical container of biscuits popping open. But when it popped open, something like milk also popped out of it. The men in business suits were now walking away. I think they were just trying to avoid getting splashed by the milk. The milk flowed onto the ground, making a puddle maybe two meters long and a meter wide.

I looked over to my left. There was a wide, open space, all made out of concrete or flagstone, as an extension of the promenade. Just beside the dock I was on was another dock. This dock may have been a bit lower than my dock. The docks were also connected, maybe as if by a ramp.

I was here to meet a group of friends, maybe mostly female friends. But only one of the friends, a young, Hispanic woman, showed up. She went down and sat down on the lower dock. So I followed her to the dock. There was some understanding between us, as if we had been speaking, though we hadn't. I knew the woman was wiser than I. I also knew that we were here because of something to do with singing. I wanted to be near the woman because I thought she knew exactly what was going on.

The woman was sitting on something like a wide, but fragmented, board of thin wood. There may have been a clear grease stain on it somewhere. The woman may have been wearing something red. She may have been doing some kind of work with her hands, too, like sewing or knitting.

Something made me feel like I was being too bothersome by being so close to the woman. I figured I needed to go walk off on my own and give the woman some space. So I walked back up to the dock I had first been on. At that dock there was another woman. She looked very much like the first woman. She may have told me that I needed to go do something like a karaoke contest or an American Idol contest.

Dream #2

I was in some place like the Financial District of New York City. I seemed to be walking directly south, all the way to the bottom of the island. It was probably morning. The sky -- between the buildings -- was clear blue. There was a little bit of white sunlight here and there. But mostly the atmosphere was of blue-grey shade. The air was kind of cool. But the streets were really busy. And there seemed to be construction going on at every corner. Grey steam bellowed out from all the construction sites. 

I walked past one street corner where a group of construction workers stood talking. One of the workers, a short, slightly stout, Hispanic man wearing a dull green t-shirt and a construction hat, saw me coming. He took a couple of steps backward so that he could get into my way. He knew he was doing it, but he was acting like he didn't know. I was kind of annoyed. But I moved out of the man's way and crossed the street.

Continuing south, I realized that I was going down to the island -- out to some promenade or dock -- something like, but not quite, the area around Battery Park City. I was going to meet my family there. There was some sort of festival that involved a singing contest like American Idol. I may not have been planning to take part in the contest myself. But I liked to watch. And my nephews may possibly have been planning on competing.

In my mind's eye (or in actuality -- like I had "telescope eyes?") I could see a woman standing out on a walkway on the edge of the river. She was tall and blonde, with really well-done-up hair. She wore a glamorous red dress that was tight around the body and puffed out really far on the left shoulder, while the right shoulder was strapless.

The woman stood in some sexy pose and was singing a jazz song. The jazz song had a repeating line for the final line of each verse: "He loved her for the first time." (This kind of sounded like the "but I love him, yes I love him" line in "Is You Is Or Is You Ain't My Baby.")

I crossed another street (or just approached the corner of the street I'd just crossed?). There was a set of small orange traffic cones, topped with something like orange and white striped, plastic poles, set in a quarter-circle around the traffic-light post. It formed a small "corridor" of sidewalk through which pedestrians were supposed to walk. Outside this corridor construction either was or would be going on.

There were a group of really pretty girls in business clothes walking up to and into the corridor. One of them struck me as being particularly lovely. She had tan skin and brown hair. She wore a white, button-up shirt and a green and tan tweed skirt, very tight, going down just below her knees. She also wore black sunglasses. She had a really lovely, curvy body.

The girl saw me as I was approaching the corridor. She maneuvered herself and her group of friends so that they were taking up all the small space between the traffic light pole and the knee-high traffic cone barrier. I had the feeling that the girl kind of wanted me to fight or edge my way into the corridor -- maybe so I'd have to talk to her or she'd have to talk to me. But I also felt like she just didn't like me, so that she wanted to shove me out of the corridor altogether.

Either way, I didn't feel like worrying about the woman. I walked along the corridor, right on the outside of it. I was walking along some asphalt space, kind of like a paid parking lot. I could hear the pretty girls talking and laughing as I passed them. But I could also hear the woman down at the bottom of the island, still singing the song... "He loved her for the first time."

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

someone likes diapers too

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I stood before something like a giant cruise ship. The ship appeared to be a dark pink color. I must have been planning to get on the ship.

I couldn't see any other people. But someone around me, probably a woman, told me that someone else, probably a man, also liked wearing diapers. The woman said that this person had always seemed to dislike me and to be too preoccupied with me in a negative way whenever I was around. The woman said, it was really that the man was excited that I liked diapers, too, but that the man was too afraid to share his liking for diapers with anybody else.

I probably asked the woman to tell me who the man was. But the woman told me no, that that would break her faith with the man. But I may have felt like the woman and I may have had some conversation at some point in time that was allowing me to piece together who the man was.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

crashes; warning of crashes

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

Three aircraft seemed to have crashed, one after the other. The aircraft were something like rocket planes, like the X-15. The crafts may have had something like pipes sticking up and out of them.

Each craft had a name. The name had some individual name and then some general name, so that all the crafts had the general name in their name. The first two aircraft had people's names, possibly the names of celebrities, possibly the names of regular people. The third craft had some kind of special name, either the name of a very famous celebrity or the name of a very famous aircraft.

Dream #2

An older woman and a younger woman were somewhere. The younger woman may have been preparing to head out somewhere. The older woman warned the younger woman about the possibility, in the area the younger woman was heading to, of airplane crashes. The older woman listed the names of aircraft she believed could crash. These were the same aircraft as in my first dream.

The younger woman didn't take the older woman's advice totally seriously. She knew that where she was going there was a high risk of plane crashes. And she may have had the idea that the older woman was experienced enough with these things to know what she was talking about. But she mainly thought that the older woman's advice was the result of being overly concerned for the younger woman. The younger woman seemed to think this was kind of cute.


UPDATE: A discussion of some images I believe are related to these dreams can be found in this entry of my dreamday journal.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

sleeping on a mansion porch; cartel paramours

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I may have had either a girlfriend or a girl who was interested in me, who lived in a big mansion with her family. It was night, and the girl, another person or some other people, and I all came up to the mansion. The girl wanted me to sleep here. But she knew her father wouldn't approve of me. So her idea was that I should sleep on the porch of the mansion.

I stood out on the porch while everybody else walked into the mansion. The porch of the mansion was huge, made of massive stone. The doors of the mansion were also big, made of black iron and glass.

The girl checked with the cook of the mansion to see if anybody else was home at the moment. I could see the cook from the right side of the porch, apparently through a dark hallway that led into the incandescent-lit kitchen. The cook said nobody was home. But she also may have said that she still didn't think it was a good idea for me to sleep at the mansion.

I went to sleep on the mansion porch. I slept near the back, right corner of the porch. I think I was using some kind of blankets as a mattress, and a sleeping bag as a blanket.

I now woke. The morning light was grey. A group of people (in a number of cars, including a limousine and a van?) pulled up to the mansion. The girl's father walked up the steps, closely followed by a retinue of people, possibly associates and bodyguards. The father was a black man who still looked kind of young. His hair was maybe about 5cm long. He wore a black suit with a white shirt and some kind of striped tie (maybe green and yellow?). He wore dark but mirror-like sunglasses.

I jumped out of my bedding. I was trying to think of some excuse for why I was sleeping here. Thankfully, I was wearing a business suit -- brown slacks and jacket, not sure about the rest. I was still trying to think of what to say as I approached the father.

But the father directly asked me something like, "Aren't you the tour guide?"

Shocked that I had been given an excuse directly, I said, "Yes."

The father said something like, "Well, why didn't you come here with us? Are you even ready to give the tour? You're cutting it close with time as it is. The group should be here any minute. They'll be waiting in that room."

I looked over to the left wall of the porch. There were iron-barred glass doors leading into what looked like an opulent hotel lobby. The father had walked away. I walked over into the new room. There were three or four short steps leading down into the area.

The area was much wider than it was deep. There were huge chandeliers with incandescent bulbs. The walls were mostly wood. The carpets were all very nice, with kind of Persian designs, in maybe a tan and blue color scheme. There were little circular seating areas throughout the room, nicely upholstered and padded. A couple of big desks dotted the room. And at the far end of the room was a big, wooden staircase.

There were a lot of people bustling about in the room. But right as I walked down to the bottom of the steps I was confronted by a tightly packed group of well-dressed people. This was, I knew, the tour group the father had spoken about.

The father had supposed I was the group's guide. I knew this wasn't the case. But I suspected the guide would be along soon enough. If I could just stall the group until the guide got here, perhaps I could make a seamless transition, so that nobody would report me to the father as having been either a terrible tour guide or a fraud.

I was worried about my hairstyle. I could "see" my hairstyle. My dark brown hair was heavily gelled (!) and swept into something halfway between a squarish professional cut and a trendy, spiky-mohawk-type cut. I also really needed to urinate. So I wanted to get into the bathroom before I really got focused on performing for this crowd.

But the bathroom doors were right in front of me, along the wall to my left -- and the crowd were all standing in front of the doors. So I did a little bit of performing for the crowd. I didn't even really know what they were here to tour for. So, trying to act like I knew what I was doing, I also threw out some questions and statements that I hoped would lead the crowd to tell me what they were here for.

I still needed to urinate really bad. So I walked through the crowd, probably telling them that we'd start in just a moment, but that I needed to go to the bathroom first. I may have been worried, though, that while I was in the bathroom, the real tour guide would come along. I wouldn't be able to explain myself to him, and somebody might report me to the father. But I may also have mentioned something to the crowd about how the other tour guide, or even the real tour guide?, might be coming along soon.

The crowd seemed to clear some kind of space to the bathroom for me, or else, even though the crowd hadn't cleared a space, I may have seen how I could have gotten to the bathroom. But the bathroom I now had a clear path to was the women's, not the men's. I could see, on the wood door, a shiny, brass plate in the standard shape of a man, on the door of the bathroom I needed to get into. But it seemed like I was going to have a hard time convincing anybody to let me in there.

Dream #2

A view of something like a road in the desert -- flat, with sandy soil and clumps of grass everywhere. My view floated maybe 3 meters above the road and was moving along over the road at the speed of a car.

In the back of my mind I was feeling a story of a girl who was working through the boyfriend options she had on the internet. There were at least three boys the girl was interested in. The first and the third boy had the last name "Cartel." These two boys each had three names. The third boy's first name began with "Ph." The first boy's first name may have been William. I don't remember anything about the second boy's name.

The girl liked the third boy, Ph. The other Cartel boy was a big troublemaker. But Ph was a really nice boy. And the girl really wanted to be with him.

The girl's father did not want to have his daughter involved with anybody in the Cartel family. But the girl was trying to figure out a way of explaining to the father what kind of a good boy Ph was.

The girl's father came driving down the road, in the direction opposite the one in which I was moving, as part of a big group of vehicles. A lot of the vehicles were dark and shiny, like limousines. But there may also have been some motorcycles and other vehicles. They all seemed to be driving so that they made something like a triangle formation.

The girl's father, who was the leader of this group, may possibly have been driving the lead motorcycle. But even if he was in one of the limousines, I could see him, or sense him, as if he were at the very front of this pack.

Somehow it was now like I was this Cartel boy that the girl liked. I felt like I myself should somehow confront the father and let him know about myself. I knew the daughter would also probably still talk to her father. And I knew that the father would listen to the daughter more than to me. I doubted, though, that the father would really listen to either of us. But I figured I might as well try, anyway.


UPDATE: A discussion of the images in this dream can be found in this entry in my dreamday journal.

Friday, June 22, 2012

mi corazon

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in some kind of restaurant with my brother. We had apparently been given permission to go sit down somewhere. So we were heading to that area.

I think I may have headed down a small stairwell, heading to the table my brother and I had been assigned to. But I was stopped when I heard someone singing Japanese karaoke. I looked behind me. My brother wasn't there.

I went back up the stairs. In some place like a lobby or front cashier area, there was a person singing karaoke. The area had white tile floors, a few large game/vending machines, like the crane machine where you can win stuffed animals, and a big LED screen on the left (my left) wall. Beyond the game/vending machines I could see the front door to the restaurant. Through the glass doors I could see that it was night. At my edge of the white tiles was a male worker standing at a small cashier counter.

The person singing the karaoke stood in the middle of the floor of white tiles. The man was my brother, even though I couldn't get a good view of him. He was wearing a big, brown hoodie. The hoodie wasn't pulled over my brother's head. But my brother was wearing a baseball cap, pulled down so low over his face that I couldn't see him. And I think he kept turning away from me, at maybe a 30 or 45 degree angle.

I figured out somehow that this was a new kind of karaoke system. It was like a karaoke jukebox. There was some machine around here. There was a big crane machine just past the LED screen, and I assumed the  machine was just beyond that LED screen. That machine was the karaoke jukebox. You put money into it, just like into any old jukebox, and you got to choose your song. Your song then appeared on the screen.

The only thing weird about the system was something strange about the money. It was like some big drawer pulled out, like a wood drawer with a glass barrier over the inside of the drawer. The inside of the drawer was coated in something like shiny, metallic blue wrapping paper. Somehow you put your money into that thing and then slammed it back into the jukebox machine.

I stood watching my brother. He was really good. My brother was singing some song I'd never heard of before. It had a good melody, maybe a little sad. I'd had no idea that my brother could do Japanese karaoke! I wondered how widespread Japanese karaoke was among people today, how many young people could sing it. I hadn't really thought of it before. Suddenly I didn't feel very special for being able to do Japanese karaoke.

I thought I'd sing a song. But some other guy walked up to the screen. Just below or near the screen was another machine, which looked like a small, standalone jukebox. This machine was a regular jukebox that played regular, non-karaoke songs. The man was apparently going to put money into the machines and play some songs. The man hated karaoke. So he wanted to fill up the time with regular songs right away, so nobody could do karaoke.

Somehow, though, the scene switched around a little bit. The man and the regular jukebox were gone, and now the karaoke jukebox was just right behind me. I tried to get a look at the person singing. The person was no longer my brother. But he was still singing well. But I could never get a view of the man's face.

The man was at the last chorus of the song, I think. The chorus actually used the Spanish words, "Mi corazon, mi corazon," and then went into more Japanese.

I turned around to the jukebox. The top of the jukebox was all glass. Inside the glass case was something like a white tabletop, or maybe just a flat surface with white paper spread across it. On this surface lay a couple stacks of compact discs and some lone compact discs, none of them apparently connected to any mechanism.

Up on the wall was a white sign with red lettering, something like a sign you'd see at a swimming pool. It was instructions for how to order a song. You had to press two numbers, just to access a certain genre (or disc?). The first number was for some classification that wasn't clear to me. The next was a genre. Using these instructions, I did the best to pick a Japanese song. I picked the genre "anime," even though I wasn't looking for an anime song.

Now I went over to the keypad, which was just an outline of a keypad in something like red plastic, stuck to the glass case. It was like a decal, almost. There was no screen or anything to indicate which buttons you'd pressed. I didn't believe the thing would actually worked. I typed the numbers 5 and 4. Nothing seemed to happen.

There was a young, black man behind me. He mumbled to himself, "Oh, man. Another one of these guys. We're gonna be here forever because this guy can't figure out how to work the machine."

I became a little self-conscious at what the man had said. But I thought that he'd be able to help me. So I turned around and asked him, "Well, maybe to speed things up, could you actually show me how to do it?"

Thursday, June 21, 2012

can't speak the language; girls' fashion

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in one environment (can't remember what) with some man, possibly a tall, white business man. We then emerged into another environment. It was like we unzipped something like a suitcase zipper from around us and pushed upward out of one clear suitcase into another clear suitcase. This environment was like a big city. The atmosphere seemed to be yellow. Maybe the sky was yellow.

I turned to the man and said, "Just because I've spoken some words of this language in the past, don't think I can speak the language. I really can't." I think I was hoping that the man might teach me the language.

The man kind of laughed and told me, "Don't worry about it. Most of the time while I'm here I just have the robot speak the language for me." But something about how the man said that might have indicated that, if I wanted to, I could learn the language from the robot.

Dream #2

There was a really wide view of a blank sky. At the bottom of this view, maybe taking up only twenty percent of my view, were two Asian girls.

The girl on the left had long, brown hair that appeared to have been bleached and then dyed purple on top. Her hair was brushed straight down, except with a sweep of bangs flowing down over her forehead. She wore a white vest with horizontal tiger stripe patterns and white slacks with either horizontal or vertical stripes.

The girl on the right wore some kind of form-fitting, lame/spandex outfit with a color halfway between copper and brown. The top of the outfit was like a tight blouse and a fluttery mini-skirt connected together. The bottom of the outfit was leggings.

At some point the girl on the right may have jumped up in childlike excitement and kicked one of her feet back, so that it touched against her bottom. The other girl just constantly stood staring forward.


UPDATE: A few quick comments on images related to this dream are at this entry in my dreamday journal.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

didn't want to hear it

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A split-screen view of a man and a woman. The woman sat on the left side of the screen, the man on the right. The woman's side took up about one-third of the view. The man's side took up two-thirds. The two were in different rooms, although the rooms looked alike. The two were facing each other, as if they were talking to each other face to face. But they were talking by phone.

The woman had her hair in a 1960s-like, rounded, short hairstyle. She wore round, white-plastic rimmed sunglasses. She probably wore a black and white mini-dress.

The man started to ask the woman a question that he knew would be difficult for the woman. The woman, anticipating the question, suddenly just said, "No. No." She hung up the phone right away.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

ten cent porn; trash files; juice boss; cooking too much?; secretly following; hitting hitcher; blackmail cupcakes

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was on some form of public transportation, maybe a bus, but probably more like a train or a subway. We were moving along above ground. The sky outside may have been deep blue-grey, as if it were late afternoon or early morning and cloudy. I sat in seats that edged their sides against the window. In front of me was a row of seats that edged their backs against the window. There may actually have been another row of seats in front of that first row.

I was looking at my phone. A man now sat in the seats in front of me. He was skinny, with dark skin and dark, wavy hair done up in a square cut. He wore a button-up shirt and nice slacks. He smiled at me and said something like, "You looking at porn?"

I was kind of shocked. I wasn't looking at porn. But I knew I could have been at some other time. In conjunction with my shock, we may have passed over some big bump. I dropped my phone. It scuttered under the row of seats the man was sitting in.

The man didn't seem to notice that I had dropped my phone. I didn't want to act like I'd dropped my phone. I thought if I acted worried, the guy would definitely think I had been looking at porn, and he'd definitely want to look at my phone. I didn't want to ask the guy for help in getting my phone.

I was trying to figure out the best way for getting my phone. I couldn't reach for it from where I sat. It had fallen all the way to the other end of the row. So I had to get up and get it. I stood up and went for it. I knelt in front of the row of seats.

It was a little harder than I'd thought it would be to get to it. The row of seats in front of this row was so close that it was like I had to crawl under this row just to get to the back row. Instead of the man sitting there, there may now have been a Hispanic woman, maybe with one or two little kids.

I noticed that down here the seats were all dusty, too. I could see my phone (except now it may just have been a dime) at the very end of a corner formed by the row of seats and the wall. I crawled back and reached for the phone, rubbing myself up against all the dust of the seats so that I could squeeze my arm in to where the dime was.

I pulled the dime out and looked at it. I may have been sitting straight up, still under the seats, though before I'd had to do a pretty short crawl to get here. Now that I'd actually retrieved my dime, I no longer thought it had been worth all the trouble I'd gone through.

Dream #2

I was at my office. I was looking down into the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. The drawer was all full of clutter. I may have been panicked, trying to figure out how to take care of all this clutter.

I may have heard my boss' voice from behind me, talking to our office manager, BL. My boss told BL, "You'll see. We can do without him. Anybody can do his job, really."

Dream #3

I was in some place like a break room. It seemed to be at the back of a big grocery store. The break room was kind of narrow. A big, circular table with a fake wood top took up most of the room. I sat at the table. The lights in the room were all off. The only light was the fluorescent light from the store, which came in through the open door of the break room.

My boss walked in. He said something like, "You're still here? We got rid of you, didn't we? We have your replacement and everything."

I may have tried to explain something about my being here, like there were one or two things that still needed to be taken care of. But my boss said something to ridicule everything I said. He said everything in a really pissy yet nonchalant tone that made it clear he was trying to insult me as much as he could in the most tactful way possible, so that he could prove how little he felt he needed me without actually getting himself in trouble for insulting me.

I was so angry that I shouted something back at him. It was pretty violent, but I can't remember what it was. My boss didn't take what I'd said seriously at all. So I began to laugh. I told him if he didn't think I was serious, he could just wait and see. I began to laugh louder and louder.

I laughed so loud that I "woke myself up" -- somewhere. I was walking around in the grocery store, I believe. I could hear two women talking to me from somewhere, maybe from inside my head. I could tell that the two women were Hispanic. Maybe they'd been attractive before. But now they were kind of worn-out and dumpy-looking.

The two women were telling me that when I'd been laughing in my sleep, I'd been laughing so hard that I'd woken them up. They said my laugh had been an evil laugh, and that it made them afraid for my boss. I don't know how they knew I was laughing about my boss.

I myself was really surprised I could have given such an evil laugh. When the women told me that my laugh was evil, I began to worry about myself. Was I okay? Did I need psychological help?

I was now walking along the back wall of the grocery store. There was a door along the back wall. I knew that behind that door was my boss' bedroom. He was asleep in that room. It may have been like a dorm room. My boss may actually have been sharing that room with the guy my boss had hired in my place. My boss and the guy may both have been asleep.

I knew my boss had fallen asleep because he thought there was nothing to worry about from me. I was going to show him. I had a plastic bottle in my hands. Actually, the bottle in my hands kept changing. First it was a small, 600ml plastic bottle. Then it was a big plastic juice bottle, maybe around two liters. There may also have been times when I held more than one bottle in my hands. The bottles may usually have been full of orange juice. I don't think any of them were ever completely full.

I planned to sneak into my boss' bedroom while he was asleep and pound him on the head with these bottles until his skull was smashed and he died. But as I was walking up to the door of the room, two tall, very muscular, bronze-skinned men walked up from behind me. The men wore tight, dark grey or black t-shirts and maybe dull green or grey pants, also kind of tight, maybe made of denim. They had short, wavy brown hair, and square, but kind of babyish, faces.

I had a bad feeling that these guys were trying to break into my boss' bedroom. They seemed to want to steal some of the stuff in the bedroom. Apparently the bedroom was also like a storehouse for some of the most valuable stuff in the store.

I didn't want the store to get stolen from, so I began watching the guys very closely. I decided not to go into the room. The room had a sliding door with a small, inward notch of a handle, painted the same pale-tan as the rest of the door. I didn't want the two men to see how easy it was to get into the room. They'd only be more encouraged to go in.

So either I got friendly with the guys or the guys got friendly with me. We began talking, walking past the room, all of us acting like the room was of no importance to us at all. We turned right and headed down an aisle with rather large shelves, more like shelves in a huge discount warehouse than in a normal grocery store. We were talking about something that I seemed to be engaged in with a kind of childlike enthusiasm.

I got the feeling, as we continued walking, that the guys had decided they were going to protect me. But I didn't know if that was just an act. So I kept all my conversation away from anything having to do with my boss or the bedroom door.

Dream #4

I was in some restaurant. I probably worked there. The restaurant had a long, narrow eating area and a small kitchen, most of which was visible from behind a counter. The restaurant was closed at the moment. But we were apparently preparing, so we could open up for some big party later in the day. The party may have been planned to be a multiple-day party. It may also have been the case that we had just closed down for the day, but that we now had to prepare all of our food for the next day.

Most of the workers seemed to be hanging around in the eating area, toward the back, at a couple of tables. It seemed like they, in general, really didn't have anything to do with the cooking, or maybe even the serving of the food. It seemed like they were all some kind of bosses, more concerned with the administrative aspects of the restaurant. There were one or two cooks behind the counter.

I'm not sure exactly what my job was. But somehow, I was keeping track of the amount of food made. I was also somehow involved in determining how much food needed to be made. At some point I had concluded that we didn't need to make a whole lot. We probably hadn't had much business the day before, and it looked like things weren't going to be any more active the next day. Plus, with the kind of food we made (some kind of fish?), it was much better to cook too little and have the food be fresh and good, than to cook too much and have food go bad.

The cook or cooks took my advice and began cooking only a little bit of food. I think I saw the preparations -- something like sheet pans with circular items, like biscuits, except made of fish, laid out on them.

But now I heard from the front door that the next day of the party was going to be really busy. There would probably be a lot of people here. And, in fact, a large group of people might even have made a reservation specifically for this restaurant.

I was excited. I ran back to the cooks and told them that we now needed to cook a lot of food. We were going to have a full house. Suddenly the cooks had all kinds of big fillets of fish, all being fried and laid out on pans everywhere. There were all kinds of pans of greasy, still-bubbling, fried fish -- everywhere.

I walked away from the cooks' counter and back toward the back of the store, where the other guys sat. I suddenly had a bad feeling that I'd told the cooks to make way too much food. The place would probably not be busy enough to serve all that food. If it were busier than the other days, we'd be kind of okay. But we'd still have too much food. But if it were only as busy as the other days, we'd have a whole lot of food and waste on our hands. We'd have wasted a lot of money.

Dream #5

It was probably a fresh, crisp morning. I was out walking around some place like a small town or a college town or campus, leading a small group of new students in some kind of orientation program. Everybody seemed cheerful and relaxed, even though I think we had gotten to some place where I really didn't know where I was going. We were walking along some grey flagstone path in between some large lawns, at the end of which were large, stately buildings. 

A group of guys came walking our way from the other direction. They were all a lot taller and stronger than I. One of the guys, a black man with a shaved head, asked if we knew where we were going. I probably walked up to the guy and mumble-whispered something like, "I don't know where we're going. Do you think you could show us the way -- but without letting on that I don't know what I'm doing?"

We stood before a black iron gate (on my right side) that was hinged on either side with a maybe 2 meter tall stone post. The gate was already partly open. The man opened the gate the rest of the way for us. We all cheerfully walked in. After the gate was a flagstone path that led directly up to one of the big, stately buildings.

The man pointed out a stack of textbooks on the right side of the flagstone path. The top book may have had a yellow cover. The book may have been a mathematics textbook.

The man said, "I think somebody left their textbooks on the path." I knew that this was the way the man was justifying having given me directions for where to go. If he opened the gate and pointed out the books, it would just look like he was pointing out the books, not pointing out the direction I was supposed to take.

I may have replied that the person who owned these books (maybe some female student?) wasn't here, but that I'd make sure to get the books to her. I probably went to pick the books up.

Dream #6

It was morning. I was out with some young, black man on a road, probably in a neighborhood full of fenced parking lots and warehouses. It may have been like I was going to work. It may have been a hot, kind of smoggy morning. The sky was a sour yellow, with the sun just coming up over the horizon.

There were a decent amount of cars in the street, all heading to some warehouse yard to start work. The boy and I seemed to be in a hurry, even though I don't think either of us was too keen to start work.

The boy suddenly had an idea that to get to work quicker we could "hitch a ride." But this hitching a ride didn't necessarily mean getting permission to ride with somebody and getting into their car. The boy told me, "Come on!" He ran up to some van that may have been full of young people, like college students or recent college graduates in something like an intern program. The boy seemed just to jump onto the back or the side of the van and hold on as the van drove away.

I knew that the boy was doing this less because he was in a hurry to get to work and more because he simply didn't feel like walking the rest of the way to work. But I was in a hurry to get to work, and, even though I didn't like the boy's idea, I thought it seemed smart enough that I'd better do it. So I jumped onto a van, possibly not the same van as the boy had jumped onto.

But as I was jumping onto the van I noticed that at one intersection, at which we had just turned left, there was so much traffic that everything had come to a standstill. I was now somehow inside the van. All the young people seemed to make me feel welcome. There may have been a pretty, little, skinny white girl with big, blue-green eyes and her brown hair back in a loose ponytail.

At some point I may have decided that it would be easier just to get out and walk. But suddenly an accident occurred. We'd been moving forward, when we'd hit my friend who'd jumped on the other van. Apparently he'd gotten off the van -- maybe he'd been thrown off of it. But we'd actually driven right over him. It was obvious that he was dead -- crushed. But I didn't want to believe it.

I think I'd gotten out of the van I was in, as if that would reverse my friend's death. I was walking to work. But then at some point I was driving in a car -- a yellow taxi-cab, actually -- with my mom. My mom was driving. I sat in the front passenger seat.

We turned right and drove through an open gate. We were heading along a wide road through a wide lawn. Up ahead was a big, stately building, like a college building. But I looked up ahead and to my left and saw that there were people out here training to be astronauts. Some people may even have been wearing full astronaut outfits for spacewalks.

Suddenly, from nearby, on the left side of the road, there were two people: a boy and a girl. I'm not sure what happened to the boy. He may simply have run off into the field. But the girl ran directly in front of our car. My mom had to step on the breaks really quickly. Even then we barely missed hitting the girl.

The girl was a beautiful, tall, skinny, black girl with long, loosely curly, black hair. She wore a schoolgirl's outfit, with a tartan skirt and overall-blouse and a white button-up shirt. But she was a college student, or at least preparing to become a college student.

The girl looked terribly panicked. She gave me and my mom a look, like she knew she'd forced us to stop, but that she'd had to do it. She quickly ran around to the back passenger side of the car and got in. My mom had the understanding that we needed to just keep driving and get the girl to the same place as we were going.

The girl said, in an ominous tone, "I really feel sorry for you guys." I could tell that the girl knew something bad that was possibly going to happen to me and my mom. It probably had something to do with the young man who got hit by the van. But it was also connected to the girl in some way, like whatever the girl was trying to escape was whatever was coming after me and my mom, too.

I asked the girl, "What do you mean, you feel sorry for us?" I looked in the rearview mirror at the girl. I could tell the girl was too distressed to talk. I asked, "Do you just not want to tell me right now?" The girl pursed her lips in fear and shook her head. She may have been clutching a teddy bear tightly in her arms.

Dream #7

I was in some place like a Starbucks. But it was much larger than a normal Starbucks. The cashier's counter was also set at some strange angle to the rest of the store. The area around the counter was set up in a cluttered kind of way, too, with the glass display cases set at odd angles to the counter. And, behind a door behind the counter was, apparently, a really big food prep area, like this place was actually a restaurant rather than a cafe or a Starbucks.

I had ordered and had been sitting down. But now I'd stood up and come back to the counter. I may have been planning to leave. But the man behind the counter, a tall, kind of muscular black man with a bit of a feminine attitude, had either given me or sold me some extra items, so that now I felt like I should stay at the cafe to finish my items. This probably wasn't so bad, as I probably had stuff I wanted to read or write.

But now the man offered me even more food. This time it was some kind of cupcakes with a thick layer of pale brown chocolate frosting. The cupcakes looked really good. But I knew I probably shouldn't have them. But the man told me to take one.

There was some woman behind me and just to my right now. She may have been with me.

I told the man that I really couldn't take anything else. I'd probably had enough with the first stuff I'd gotten. With the second batch of stuff the guy had given me, I probably had too much. The cupcakes would make it way too much.

I was about to walk away. But now the man brought out a huge tray of some kind of sweet breads that were coated in some kind of sweet syrup. The man told me something like, "Now, you really can't resist these."

I was actually going to try and resist them. But the man actually told me something weird, like, if I didn't take one of these little cakes with me, he was going to tell everybody some dirty,little secret of mine. So I decided to take one of the cakes. They actually did look really, really good. And now I was even tempted to take one of the cupcakes with the chocolate frosting, too. I really did want to know how that frosting tasted.


Update -- you can find info on images I think are related to this dream (and some others) in this entry of my dream-day blog.