Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was in somebody else's house. The house was yellow with daylight coming in through the windows. The house seemed cluttered. The furniture and other items in the house were brown.
I had to move something out of the house. I had gotten whatever I needed to move out of the house (it may have been something like a tall, wood-backed chair). I was heading for a door.
But now a little dog came running at me. It had longish, red-golden hair. It was skinny, with a long, pointy face and pointy ears. It was barking at me a lot. I thought it was going to bite me. I had been told about the dog, I believe. I knew that while I was taking the item out of the house I had to keep the dog in the house. If the dog left the house, it would be really hard to get it back.
So I kicked at the dog kind of violently, to keep the dog in the house. I had the door open and was pulling the item out of the house when the dog attacked me again. This time, instead of just kicking at the dog, I kicked the dog. I kicked the dog a number of times before the dog ran yelping away into the house.
Once I'd secured the item outside the house I started to feel bad for having kicked the dog. I went back into the house to see the dog and make sure it was okay. When I found the dog it was afraid of me. It scuttered away from me and hid behind a chair. I followed after it. The dog was laid over on its left side. The dog was now black, with sleek fur, almost like the feathers of a starling bird.
I believe I petted the dog and that, after a while, the dog began to feel comfortable around me and to respond to me.
Dream #2
I was at "my step-grandmother's house." I had apparently either come to live with my step-grandmother or to spend a few days with her. It was night. We were in some room kind of like a living room mixed with a study. The light in the room was dim -- maybe just one lamp for the whole room.
My step-grandmother had been telling me all the preparations she'd been making for my arrival here. As she told me this stuff, she sat in a high-backed, cushioned chair, while I sat down at her knee, on some comfortable, cushioned stool.
My grandma told me something about how she'd made similar preparations for someone who'd come to live here before me. The person seemed to be alternately a man and a woman -- or perhaps there had been a man and then a woman in succession. I believe that when my grandma spoke about the woman, she seemed to mention the woman as if she were very fashionable, as if my grandma always had to think of how to be "fashionable enough" for her guest.
But when my grandma mentioned the man, she mostly liked to draw attention to his quirks. For instance, my grandma mentioned an "unfortunate" collection the man had left of fashion magazines. These magazines smelled like perfume. My grandma hadn't even known the man had had such a huge stack of fashion magazines. And my grandma hoped that I wouldn't mind them being in the room I'd be using. My grandma would soon be throwing these magazines away.
When I heard about the magazines, I kind of wanted to tell my grandma that she shouldn't throw them away. I loved fashion magazines, and I wanted to see the ones the boy had left.
I had now stood up and paced out across the room and back. As I did, my clothing changed from normal boys' clothing to a tight, short, purple t-shirt and a purple Pampers Underjams diaper.
My grandma was discussing difficulties she'd had in getting the place prepared for me personally. She seemed to be at the end of the list once I'd gotten back to her. But now she said, "And, here. See? Let me see here. What are you wearing under this shirt?"
My grandma lifted up my shirt. She said, "Ah. Just what I suspected. Diapers."
My grandma stood up and paced to the opposite side of the room. I followed her. I now noticed that the opposite wall of the room was of stone, with a fireplace set into the stone, and a little platform in front of the fireplace.
My grandma said, "I was thinking of setting you up with a girlfriend while you were here. But I didn't, because I knew you were going to be wearing diapers. I just didn't know, if you were wearing diapers, if you'd want to be spending any time with a pretty girl as well."
I was sad that my grandma hadn't set me up with the girl. I thought that maybe I shouldn't have worn diapers here after all.
Dream #3
I walked through the doorway of some kind of stone- or cinder-wall barrier. A pretty, skinny, tall, blonde woman had been walking with me. But she stopped walking and stood just inside the doorway, on the right (our right) side of the doorway.
It was a clear, hot, sunny day. I was walking along a wide concrete path. Off to my right were pools of water. They were square-shaped, divided from each other by concrete walls. The water in each pool looked a little different. The shapes of the floors of the pools was also different. Some pools were just even cubes. Others had steps or tiers in them. Some may actually have extended out a lot farther than the others.
Some of the pools had flowing water, and some of the pools had still water. The water in all the pools seemed to be clean -- I think the one thing the water had in common was a slight greenish tint (which I think I've always associated with chlorinated water). I think there were supposed to be living creatures in at least some of the pools. But I don't think I ever saw any creatures.
After walking a very short distance, I suddenly crouched down and called my boss' phone. I was crouching down on some kind of basalt outcropping that seemed to jut over a larger body of water than any of the pools. I didn't reach my boss. I decided to leave a voice message for him. But I kept talking and talking so much that the time limit ran out on the voice message.
I hung up my phone. I figured I'd said enough to my boss. I stood up and started walking along the pools again.
But now I realized I hadn't said enough to my boss. In fact, there were key points I'd left out of my voice message. So I called my boss up again and crouched down beside a pool. I got voicemail and talked and talked until the voice message time limit ran out. I then hung up the phone and stood up again.
I was now walking on a concrete sidewalk, up a slight slope, on a street with tall skyscrapers. I knew I was heading into my office. I knew I had been away on some kind of a business trip for a long time. It was like I was a salesman and I had been out selling.
I could see the image of a comic strip clearly in my head. It was black and white, in a straight-edged, 1950s style of line drawing. In the first frame there was a man in a suit and a fedora, walking in the sunlight. The man said something like, "It's good to get back home, to see how the people (down stairs?) are doing. You get back in touch with what's actually happening in the company." In the second frame, the man was heading into a building very much like the building I was heading into.
I now headed into the building and downstairs. Downstairs was a cafeteria. Apparently the first thing I was going to do was grab some lunch. Everything seemed to be sterile and white in the cafeteria. The cafeteria had a Mexican food theme to it -- all the time, I think.
I headed to a steel-countered service area at the back end of the cafeteria. I was really looking for a burrito. The cafeteria was selling one main item that day. But I can't remember what it was. Maybe tacos? I may have grabbed a main item. But I didn't really want it, and I went looking along the counter for something else. It looked like, behind a glass window, they were also serving little single enchiladas and single tamales (the tamales actually looked like tiny burritos) in little, plastic dessert bowls.
A tallish, white man with long, brown hair in a ponytail and wearing a white food service apron came up behind the counter. He asked me if I would like him to get me anything. I asked the man if he had any burritos. The man said, "Oh, no, we aren't doing those today. But we have a lot of other really good stuff."
I now seemed so small that my head barely rose above the steel counter that had previously been waist-height. I looked up over the glass wall at the man and, in a kind of acquiescent way, asked for one of the food items I'd seen in one of the plastic dessert bowls. The man handed it to me.
It seemed like the man understood that he was now done serving me. I figured I'd better just take that as a cue that I shouldn't bother the man anymore by asking him to serve me anymore. But I realized that when I'd asked the man for the item I'd wanted, I'd asked for the wrong item. I'd wanted a tamale and an enchilada. But instead, I'd asked for a ----- (I don't know).
I was now back at the pools. I had walked a little way farther along the pools. But now I remembered that I needed to finish up the details I'd given to my boss. There were a few final things he needed to know. So I crouched down again beside a pool. I called the number and waited for the voicemail to turn on. I looked into the pool I crouched over, maybe even sticking my hand into the pool, in hopes of finding some of the animals I'd thought were here.
Dream #4
I was in a dark hallway in a hospital. I opened a door. My dad was in this room, laying in a hospital bed. The room seemed pretty dim, at least at first: like the room was only lit by a wall-mounted x-ray film illumination screen.
My dad was laying on his left side. He'd been through some kind of really tough situation, and he was only now arriving at a point of recovery. My little brother had also been in this hospital. But he'd recently died, only the night before, or possibly even this morning.
My dad now asked me about my brother. I was kind of surprised nobody had told my dad about my brother. My sister was here, too, like I was -- seeing to my brother and dad. And my sister had seen my dad on a number of occasions during the night and morning, after my brother had died. I had a feeling that my dad should have been told about my brother a lot earlier, and that he'd be a little annoyed when he found out he hadn't been told until so long afterwards.
But I looked at my dad. He looked so weak: pale, dried out, with his hair gone a brittle color of silvery-grey. I thought that the news of my brother's death would distress my dad so much that my dad might relapse into his illness, or even die himself. So I hesitated in telling my dad about my brother. Instead, I told him something like I didn't know exactly what was going on, but that I would tell him the news as soon as I could.
I closed the door and walked out into a lit, moderately busy, hospital hallway. I was trying to figure out who I should ask in order to know for sure whether it was or wasn't okay to tell my dad about my brother. I probably settled on discussing the matter with my sister. But I may also have had the vague, foggy images (as possibilities) in my mind's eye of my mother and of some nurse -- the nurse wearing a very fetish-style nurse costume.
After a while I managed to meet up in the hospital with my sister and mother. But after talking with my sister and mother for a little bit, I realized that the only reason they hadn't told my dad anything about my brother's death was neglect. It wasn't that they wanted to spare my dad's feelings. They just, for some reason or another, neglected to tell my dad anything.
I was a little angry with my mother and sister for having been so neglectful. I may have expressed my anger. But I knew I had to hurry back to my dad and tell him about my brother as soon as I could. I knew there was a chance that my dad could die. And if my dad died before I told him that my brother had died, I could never forgive myself.
I walked into a hospital room. But the bed by the door was empty, the sheets still crumpled up on the bed, as if the person who had been occupying the bed had only recently been removed. I was certain that this meant my dad had died, and that his body had only recently been taken away. There was another bed in the room, which may have had somebody in it. There may also have been a medical staff person in the room with the person in the bed.
But somehow I came to understand that this room was actually not the room my dad had been in. A lot of the rooms looked an awful lot alike in this hospital. I was in a similar-looking room, but in a completely different area of the hospital. I needed to get to the right area of the hospital.
I knew the areas of the hospital were all divided into something like wards. But the wards were called something like "exhibits." The boundary for each exhibit had a plastic sign over it, like over a doorway or a threshold. I think the plastic sign could light up. On the sign were, in black, plastic, capital letters, the word "EXHIBIT" (?) and the exhibit letter.
I knew I needed to get to exhibit M. I knew that my dad's hospital room would be the corner room in a wall lined with rooms. I knew that once I found the correct room, I could just walk in and see my dad in his bed, right where I'd left him.
I walked through exhibits H, I, and J. Each successive exhibit I walked through looked less and less like a hospital and more and more like an old-style library. And the more I walked through these exhibits, the less welcome I felt. It was like I was heading into wealthier and wealthier areas. The people there wondered what I was doing there. They looked down on me and suspected me.
Finally I found exhibit M. I walked past the threshold and found myself in a big, nearly empty, wood-floored and wood-walled room. There were huge paintings on at least two of the walls: one of the side walls and the back wall. The paintings were landscapes or skyscapes. Each picture nearly took up the whole wall on which it was mounted.
I felt extremely unwanted in this exhibit. It seemed like the wealthiest exhibit I'd been to so far. There was a school group -- mostly high school boys -- standing near the back left corner of the room. Some of the boys were actually sitting on the edge of some long heavy marble- or wood-topped table.
At the back left corner of the room was a doorway. I knew I had to go through that doorway to find my dad. But that meant I'd have to go past the high school boys.
I assumed that the boys were all rich, since they were in exhibit M. They were all white, kind of pale-skinned. They wore clothes that were a little baggy and a little thuggy-looking. Some of them wore baseball caps tilted at weird angles. The boys' teacher was a tall, muscular, white man with a nice tan. He wore a nice shirt and slacks and thin-rimmed eyeglasses.
The boys all seemed cheerful enough with each other. But when I passed them I felt a definite change in mood. They all seemed to be focused, now, on how they could cause troubles for me. One of the boys threw a paper wad at me. Another boy actually threw a needle at me. The needle was intended to stick into me. But somehow I managed to spot its flight and catch it in a safe way.
The boys now all seemed to have forgotten about my existence. I was about to cross over the threshold into the next room. In fact, I think I crossed into the next room, which was another huge, empty, museum-like room. But it felt a bit dustier than the other room, and lit with much more harshly bright daylight.
But I quickly turned back toward the first room. Anger had built up in me. I realized that the boy who had thrown the needle at me had really meant to hurt me. What could have been on that needle? And yet the boy had completely ignored me after throwing it. I knew all the boys in the group were in on the needle-throwing. And I intended to make all of them feel some regret for what they'd done.
One boy stood on the threshold between the rooms. He may actually even have stood a little bit into the second room. His back was to me. So I stuck the needle as far into his back as I could. I thought I'd get a little bit of a reaction out of the boy. But he didn't even seem aware that I'd stuck the needle into his back.
I felt bad for sticking the needle into the boy's back. After all, what could have been on that needle? Did I just poison the boy? Did I just give him some kind of disease? Did I really need to be doing something like that to somebody, just because I was mad? I pulled the needle out of the boy's back.
But I was really angry that the boys still seemed not to be upset about having tried to hurt me. So I walked out in front of them all. Apparently the teacher had stepped away. Most of the boys were sitting on the edge of the long table.
I asked the boys if they had any idea that what they'd done to me was wrong. They hardly seemed to be registering my existence at all. So I flipped out on them. They didn't seem to move. I basically went down the line, doing something cruel to each boy. Each thing I did was a little bit different for each boy. I killed one of the boys, maybe even chopping off his head. But, for another boy -- the boy had something like orange juice and orange donuts. I spilled his juice all over the place and began smashing the donuts with the bottom of the cup.
As I was smashing the boy's donuts, the teacher came back into the room. I knew I was probably going to get in a lot of trouble for what I'd done to all the boys. I thought I would explain myself, but I don't know if I ever got started explaining myself. I seemed to be pretty intent on smashing the donuts into paste. I thought that if I could explain myself, I'd possibly get off free. But then I thought that couldn't be possible, considering that I'd killed at least one of the boys.
Dream #5
I was walking up a steep slope with an older man and a younger woman. It was a bright, sunny day. But the sky may have been yellow, rather than blue. We were walking up a sidewalk. But we may have been in a partially forest-like area. The whole environment may also have had some kind of cartoony feel to it, too.
The older man was in the lead. I followed the man, and the woman followed me. The older man was like some established, wealthy business man. He was taking us up to something business related, I believe, at the top of the hill. There may have been some tall, skyscraper-like building up there.
The younger woman had light brown skin. She wore something like a black corset with pink decorations on it. She may also have been wearing pink, feathery wings. Her hair was dyed pink, at least near the roots. The woman had been walking behind me for a ways. Then she walked beside me. I think while she was walking beside me, she'd been expecting me to make some sort of move on her, or at least show some sort of sexual interest in her. I was interested in her. But I was really shy.
According to the older man, this walk was supposed to be a really rigorous walk, and our attainment of the crest was supposed to be a symbol of how, if we put a really strong effort into it, we could achieve anything. Only people who could get to the top of the hill could go into the building at the top of the hill.
But I realized I wasn't walking too fast or trying too hard at all. I was staying a few meters behind the man, keeping pace with him. I even pumped my legs a little bit harder than needed, just so I could feel like I was making the effort the man had said we'd be making.
The woman must have felt the same as I did, because she now moved up ahead of me. As we neared the crest of the hill, the woman even moved up ahead of the man. I was shocked that the woman had gotten into the lead. I was a little ashamed of myself for not having taken the lead myself. And I was envious of the woman.
The woman, who was still attracted to me, sensed my envy. We were all turning to head back down the slope, as if we were now doing something like laps up and down the slope. As we crossed paths, the woman said something to me like, "We all take turns at the front. Whoever's in the back has to run up to the front, right? So now you're in the back. It'll be your turn to run up to the front next."
I kind of had the feeling that the woman was saying this only to soothe my envy. But I thought that, if she was right, I was well-positioned for running up to the front. We were heading downhill. So it would be easy for me to get up my speed.
No comments:
Post a Comment