Good morning, everybody.
It was night. I had just come from somewhere else, doing something else. I was now walking along a sidewalk. I was either waiting for someone to come give me a new task, or I was waiting to walk to a place where I would be given a new task.
I didn't know what the task would be. But I must have had some idea. I told myself that it would be good preparation for the task if I would practice some flying.
I was walking past wide, leafy tree. Under the canopy of the tree, along the sidewalk, were a few stray rocks, each maybe about 15cm wide and 8cm tall. I stepped onto one of these rocks to get some kind of launching momentum. I then lifted up off the sidewalk.
I flew up to about the top of the tree canopy. I then flew around the tree, moving counterclockwise. Around the back end of the tree, the side not facing the sidewalk, there were a lot of other trees. I felt a little closed in.
Flying back around toward the sidewalk, I considered flying higher. I figured I'd fly away and explore some places. But I told myself not to. I landed on the sidewalk, telling myself I was worried about my task, and that my task was something different from flying. Maybe my task wouldn't even have anything to do with flying.
I turned up toward my right, opposite the direction I'd been heading in before I'd started flying. It was now like I was heading home for the evening.
But I now saw, up a small slope from me, and near some railroad tracks, a group of four guys. Some of the guys may have been young. But the ones I could see clearly looked like they were in their forties or fifties. They didn't look transient, but they were shabbily dressed. It was more like their dress was part of a look they gave themselves, in order to hide themselves from view.
I realized this group of guys may have been a group of stalkers. These stalkers may have been assigned to follow me around. They may even have been set up so they were living in my apartment building.
I decided to see whether these guys were really following me. I turned around and walked in the opposite direction. I walked a ways, then quickly turned around. Two of the guys definitely were following me. The other two seemed to be standing up near the railroad tracks, as if they were stationed there to wait for me to make any moves back toward the apartment.
I got really angry. I went charging at the two men who were following me. Somehow I made it clear to the men that I knew they were following me. I also made it clear that if they followed me anymore, I'd hurt them. Both the men, up close, were kind of afraid of me. They decided that they'd just keep walking in the direction they'd been following me in.
I continued up the slope. I kept a look over my shoulder the whole time, waiting for the men to start following me again.
I walked into an airplane cabin, which I may have thought of at first as a train car. I knew I got onto this airplane all the time. I knew the men probably knew it, too. So I still wanted to keep an eye out for them.
I got into a window seat on the left side of the cabin, about midway through the cabin. Somehow I had made it so that these seats sat up really high. It was like all the seats in the cabin were sliding seats that you could slide up or down the wall. I slid mine as far up as I could. This way, I told myself, I could look all the way up and down the cabin, always having a bird's eye view, to see whether the men were coming after me.
A pretty, though kind of boyish-looking, female flight attendant walked in front of me. The woman had short, brown hair and olive-colored skin. She had dark eyes, and she wore a bit of mascara. Her face was a little round and chubby. She wore a red vest, a white shirt, and black slacks. I thought she was cute.
Before, I had had seats in front of me. But now it was like I didn't have any seats in front of me. I faced some kind of wall with a window-like hole in it. Beyond the window-like hole was some area like a little locker room or storage area for all the flight attendants' things. It may also have been like a break area for the flight attendants.
The woman walked past me, then around the wall and into the break area. She put down a compact disc player Walkman and headphones. Along with the CD Walkman, the girl had a few CDs. I was trying to see what CDs she had. I figured I could either learn some new bands from the girl, or else strike up a conversation about some of the bands we may both have liked.
I was somewhere, I'm not sure where, but possibly at my family's house, or possibly at some house. I had probably been standing outside the house with some other people, most likely my immediate family members. But now everybody was heading inside.
But my mom stopped me before I headed inside. My mom and I were now the only ones outside. My mom handed me either one or two stacks of money. The stacks were each pretty big, and densely piled with paper money bills. The bills may have been huge, too, like fake novelty money rather than real money.
My mom told me that she wanted me to hold on to all this money. She had plans for all this money, but she couldn't carry out her plans for the money until she had a little more saved up. But she wasn't good enough at saving. So I'd have to save for her. So could I please hold on to all this money for her?
But there was also something about the money, as if she were giving it to me because she owed it to me. That seemed kind of odd. As far as I could remember, she didn't owe me any money. Quite the opposite. she'd paid for me to come back home when I'd been penniless in New York. I'd been paying her back for my travel expenses home. I didn't have any plans of stopping giving her money any time soon.
But I took the money, and my mom and I headed inside.