Tuesday, July 31, 2012

diluvian proselytizing; john adams inconsistencies; a spy in india; unwelcome friend; nemirovna

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

It was a slightly cloudy day. I was crossing a quiet street at the edge of a suburban neighborhood. But it was like, at first, I had been washed out into this street, as if a flood or an ocean's wave had carried me here. Even walking across to the sidewalk, I may have felt as if I'd been carried by an undertow.

Getting washed up here also had something to do with my brother. Even as I crossed the street I may have been thinking of my brother or talking with him in my head.

On the other side of the sidewalk from the street was a small lawn. The lawn ended in a steep drop, an artificial cut through the hillside to let a large road pass through. Concrete walls ran up most of the slope. There must also have been a concrete paved walking path for pedestrians to get down the slope. I headed down.

About halfway up the slope there was a concrete paved area with a long picnic table. I sat at the table, at the head end closest to where I stood. The table top was completely covered by a gigantic bag. The bag was white and may have been made out of canvas -- or a really thin material, like tissue paper! The bag seemed to be completely stuffed with stuff.

At the table sat two men. Both men belonged to a certain church. One man sat at the opposite head end of the table from me. He was a new pastor at the church. Another man sat on the long side of the table, just about in the center. He had been at the church for a long time.

The pastor was planning on going out and trying to convert people in the neighborhood. He had given the other man some of his plans. But now the man asked a weird, long question regarding the pastor's approach and the character of the people in this neighborhood, who were largely illiterate or only semi-literate.

The pastor understood the question. He replied, "You want to know how I think people will react when I get to verbal with them. Will they think that if they come to our church, that they'll be overwhelmed with an overly verbal presentation? My answer is that I've already told you and shown you the material we'll be using to witness to people. It's very visual. We are going to promote our church as being very visual, and not too literary."

In my mind's eye I could see one piece of the material the pastor had been speaking about. It was a small pamphlet. It looked like a coloring book. Apparently the people being reached out to were supposed to color the pamphlet in with crayons.

Suddenly the other man's phone started ringing. The man's ringtone was of some heavy metal song. It wasn't a real thrashing song. It had a low guitar riff and a heavy, watery bass line. But I knew that the chorus of the song had some Satanic lyrics.

When the man realized that I'd recognized the song, he turned and winked at me. He thought that I'd think he was cool for having that song as a ringtone. But I was more confused than anything else. How could the guy go out spreading the message of Christ to people while a Satanic ringtone was always playing on his phone?

The road was far below us, and it was as wide as a highway. I looked across to the slope across the highway. Parked out at the edge of the slope was a nice, big motorboat. It may even have been a small houseboat. I got the feeling that the boat was parked out there because the people who owned it thought a flood was coming. They wanted to be prepared to drift away on the flood.

Dream #2

I was probably in a living room, sitting on my knees on the floor, facing toward either a couch or a chair, and using the seat cushion for a kind of desktop. My mom or some other woman may have been sitting on the couch, just to the left of where I was working.

I was looking at some device, probably my phone, but possibly a bigger device. The screen showed a black and white photo from a long time ago. People were gathered together for a group photo. The men and women seemed to be wearing all different kinds of outfits, though the group photo was supposed to represent one specific official body, probably a military group.

I knew that in the center of the picture was John Adams, the second President of the United States. I pointed him out directly. But he was bald, with a huge beard (I assumed it was red, even though it obviously appeared to be dark grey), and he wore a uniform like that of a Civil War Union soldier.

Something didn't seem quite right about this. I tried to justify the inconsistency by thinking that John Adams lived a long time, maybe long enough to see the beginnings of the Civil War. But, even though he looked worn out, he still didn't look old enough for him to be who he was at this time period.

The screen now showed video of this same event, like the event had been caught on some primitive film camera, which had then been transferred to digital video. The event, I could now tell, was a memorial ceremony, including a huge picnic, for some important figure who had died. This important figure may have been John Adams himself.

Everybody was walking around by picnic tables. They all had plates. They all seemed to be wandering to different tables that had food. In the distance were also barbecue grills, which sent up a lot of smoke. At one point I saw the John Adams character walking around and looking at the food. I may have wondered how John Adams could be at his own memorial ceremony.

Dream #3

I either walked or took an escalator up from some basement area, up through the first floor, and then onto some higher, balcony-like level of a tall building. The building was in some big town in India.

All the outer walls of the building seemed to be glass. The inner part of the building mainly seemed to be a network of balcony- and bridge-like structures. There was some inner or rear part of the building that these walkways led to. That was where business took place. But this open area of the building looked and felt completely empty and vacant.

I was a young Indian man. I had dark, copper colored skin and kind of shaggy black hair that went over my forehead and down to just above shoulder level. I eventually understood that I was a spy. I had gotten a job with a wealthy family in India that was also connected with some sort of crime organization. I was supposed to get information on the crime organization. It wasn't just like I had a job here. It was like I had been accepted as a part of the family.

I walked along one of the walkways, heading toward a staircase. I was heading up that staircase to another walkway, where I would walk into one of the office areas. I was probably starting to think that I had gotten too deep into all this activity. It wasn't just that I didn't want to get caught as a spy. I also didn't want to be seen as betraying the family who had come to trust and love me. I didn't want to betray their love.

Suddenly another young man came up a different escalator and met me on the walkway. He looked a lot like me. He was accompanied by a white woman. The young man was really cheerful with me. He told me he was heading out somewhere to have some fun. He wanted me to come along. I really didn't want to come along.

I knew the young man was family to the company by blood. He was a privileged child. He kind of thought this company ran itself. He didn't like to do work. But I had actual work to do -- and I wanted to do it -- to help the company. Nevertheless, I felt like perhaps I should just go out with the young man. But, at the same time, I felt like the young man was starting to get a hunch that I was a spy. Maybe he was calling me out so he could trap and kill me.

But the man was already gone. He had walked across the walkway and down to another escalator. He had just come to tell me where he was going. I could meet him there if I wanted to.

But now I realized -- the young man had a white woman with him! I was kind of shocked! Way to go, I thought to myself, going out with a white woman! I now wondered whether my eyes had deceived me. I looked over the balcony to see if I could see the young man and the woman again.

The young man and woman had already gotten down a few levels on the escalator. But they were walking on a walkway now, and I could see them clearly. They both looked up at me. The young man already knew I was looking at the white girl. She was pale and blonde, but her hair was way too frizzy. It made her look like a Cabbage Patch doll.

The young man hooted up at me, bragging about the girl. He even said something like, "Hey, man, I think she likes you!" The man was kidding. But the woman was looking up at me like she liked me. I had a bad feeling that she'd eventually find a way to get close to me. I wondered if I'd end up betraying the young man by starting a relationship with this girl. But suddenly I realized -- the young man probably wanted me to start up a relationship with this girl.

Dream #4

It was a cool, blue day. I was out on a busy street. The road was clogged with cars and people. The blocks seemed small, but the roads also seemed twisted together in a way that made it seem like a long distance across streets. There also seemed to be a lot of poles in the streets and wires overhead, like there was a whole tangle of trolley systems. The buildings mainly seemed to be like row houses and narrow buildings. There were residences and small businesses all up and down the street.

I was standing -- with a whole bunch of other people! -- at a bus stop. It seemed like the bus was going to take longer than I'd originally expected. So I decided to go take care of my mail really quickly. All I had to do was drop the mail off in a mailbox. I may suddenly have received mail when I'd dropped off the mail for posting.

But I think I did something with the received mail as well. It looked like a kind of big stack at first. But, by the time I got back to the bus stop it was just a couple documents and a small newspaper. I rolled all this stuff up.

The bus still wasn't coming. So I walked up to the corner of the block. The block was really just incredibly busy -- stuffed with people! But I now saw my old friend R and his wife L coming up out of a subway station that was in a slender median in the street across from me. R looked healthy, but a little rangy, like business life had made him kind of sinewy. He wore a heavy, dull blue shirt and green cargo pants, like he was going out to do some kind of field work.

R may have seen me and then quickly pretended not to have seen me. He may even have told L not to look in my direction or acknowledge that I was around. They were across the street, separated from me by huge crowds of people, so I guess R assumed I couldn't understand anything he'd said. L split off from R and walked down toward the opposite corner of the block. R crossed the street but walked down the side street instead of coming down the street I was on.

I suddenly remembered that R lived on this block. His apartment was only a couple doors down from the bus stop! I assumed that R and L were coming home for the day. I figured I'd wait in front of their door until one of them arrived, or until my bus finally arrived. I knew they'd wonder why I was here. I'd just tell them that my bus stopped here, and that I remembered they lived here, so I thought I'd drop by and say hi.

R finally walked around the corner and toward the apartment. He didn't seem happy to see me at all. He plainly acted like he was "acting" happy while he was really "silently" annoyed. It was obvious he wasn't going to let me into his house and that he didn't even want me in front of his building. He asked me what I was doing here. I gave him a little explanation.

Dream #5

I was inside some place like a restaurant. I was a worker here. The restaurant was owned by a family that probably had connections to crime. I was one of the few non-family employees. There had been one other non-family employee at the front of my mind. But he had just left, as recently as a couple hours ago.

I walked out a side door, to some kind of outdoor eating area -- although the area looked a lot more like a big park with a few picnic tables in it. There was a wooden picket fence running around the area. Before me, the fence bounded a steep cliff that probably went down to an ocean shore. Off to my right, the area went up a rolling slope. The fenced area narrowed into a sharp angle as it ascended the slope. Past the fence were pine trees.

All the way up the slope were also fake train cars, like plastic replicas of train cars, except designed so they could be something like beds for little kids. These may have been eating areas or storage areas or just play areas for kids who came to the restaurant. I walked up the slope, looking through the cars and thinking of the non-family employee who'd just left.

I wondered whether the employee had been hurt or killed by the family. I could see the man in my mind's eye. He was tall, white, skinny, with bugged-out eyes. He was really touchy, and he had really violent emotions. He always felt like he was getting ripped off. (He kind of reminds me of a Steve Buscemi character.)

I think the man had found out that the family had been doing something to collect extra money in shady activities based on side aspects of their legitimate business. This was probably a small crime thing and not the larger crime the family was involved with. But it had used the man's efforts. The man found out how much money his efforts had drawn in through these shady activities. He wanted a cut of it. But he knew he'd never get it. So he stole his cut, threw a big fit in front of all the workers, and ran off.

I was at the top of the hill now, looking back down. I didn't know whether the family would follow the man, or whether they had already hurt or killed him. I realized now that I was a spy on the family. I wondered, walking back down the hill, whether the man hadn't also been a spy. I had a feeling, however, that what the man had done would make my job a lot harder. The family would be on the lookout for any suspicious activity at all.

As I approached the bottom of the slope, four men came walking out the side door of the restaurant. They were maintenance workers. The leader really disliked me. As soon as he saw me he started to sigh and groan, like he loathed even having to share the same air with me. He was a little shorter than medium height, with pale olive skin and a bald head. He was heavyset, but in a kind of muscular way. He wore a white t-shirt, khaki shorts, and a baseball cap.

I sat down at some small table, like a children's table with small chairs. I pulled out a cell phone and a couple other devices. I had one of the devices plugged in somewhere. The guys all sat at a table behind me. The man was sighing and groaning even still that he had to be around me. He must have really hated me.

I stood up to go get something. When I came back, my chair was gone. I saw that the leader had taken it for one of his guys to use. I acted like nothing was wrong. I just took some other chair and began concerning myself with my work again.

But the guy still kept sighing and groaning like he was angry at me. So I turned around and looked him in the eye, as if to say that if he had any problems with me, I'd be more than happy to take care of them directly. The man suddenly became genuinely relaxed and kind. He said a couple things to me about work. I replied kindly and turned back to my work, wondering whether I hadn't been imagining the man's hostility this whole time.

Now a woman came outside. It seemed obvious to everybody, right away, that this woman was a spy. She was a pale, thin woman. She was probably young, maybe in her mid twenties. But her style made her look old and frumpy. Her hair was red and frizzy, like it would have been shoulder length if it had been straight, but instead it just shot in all directions around her head like a disheveled halo.

The woman took a seat -- in a folded up folding bed! Her head and arms popped up out of the top of the bed. I was suddenly also sitting on the edge of a bed, working at a desk, with my back to the woman.


The woman had announced herself as an investigator. But it was hard for me to keep this in mind. What kept running through my head was that she was a spy, and that nobody was supposed to know it. But she was so obviously a spy that everybody knew it. I was hoping that her being a spy wouldn't blow my cover as being a spy. Then, suddenly, going through this chain of thought, I'd realize that she'd actually announced herself as an investigator.

The woman was looking for information related to a crime. But she wasn't necessarily looking to get this particular family in trouble, even though I think she knew the criminal activities this family was engaged in. But she was going to monitor our activities to see what ways we might inadvertently give her information as to the larger crime families she was trying to pin down. She was also going to ask us questions. We were supposed to volunteer any information we could. But -- knowing these guys -- I was sure "nobody would know nothin'."

But the woman started asking her questions. Suddenly I was laying on the bed I'd been sitting on. I could start to see everything in my mind about the crime family. The family's last name was Louis, which kind of surprised me. I could also see the head of the family. He was a kind, gentle-looking old man. He was wearing a nice suit. I even felt like I may have had a nice conversation with him at some point in time. I may also have seen an image in my mind's eye of a wall full of lockers.

I thought I'd tell this woman all this information right out, right in front of the maintenance guys. They were all playing along some code of honor, where nobody said anything. They were family. But I wasn't. And they thought that if I couldn't be loyal to them, I could at least be made afraid of them. But I wasn't going to be made afraid. I'd tell the woman everything, right in front of the men. And they could do whatever they wanted to me.

But I remembered I was a spy. If I told all my information right in front of these men, I'd be giving myself away as a spy. And I couldn't have my cover blown. I tried to figure if there was some way I could figure out whether the woman already knew I was a spy, or if there was some way I could let the woman know I was a spy. But I couldn't figure anything out. Suddenly, I had an image in my head of a name: Nemirovna.

***

UPDATE: Added drawing to dream #5, July 31, 2012, 12:01 PM, Mountain Standard Time.