Good morning, everybody.
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.
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."