Good morning, everybody.
I was "at my old job." I was in a break room. I had been really angry and made some kind of a scene and quit my job just a while ago. My boss walked in. He was pretty sure I hated him now. But I felt bad for having made such a scene. Even though I didn't say anything to my boss, I tried to show, by using non-violent body language, that I was sorry for what I'd done.
I was looking through a binder filled with clear plastic sleeves. The sleeves had small artworks inserted into them. The works varied in size, so that multiple works were fitted into each sleeve, each into its own pocket. The works were like prints, very blocky, almost like the fronts of old product boxes.
My boss left out a door on the wall behind me. He may have mentioned that he had to go to a meeting. I continued flipping through the pages. A while later, my boss came back. He may have been carrying a bag of fast food with him. He came up on my left side and handed me a stack of papers. There were two papers with handwritten messages on the bottom. He asked me if I could hand these papers directly to our office manager.
Just at that time, our office manager entered. She had been really upset by how I had acted. So I tried to show her how well I had patched everything up between myself and my boss by handing the papers directly to my boss that my boss had asked me to hand directly to the office manager (???).
The three of us all seemed to feel comfortable with each other again. I was sitting toward a corner on one of the long ends of the table now. I was still flipping through the binder of artworks. My boss may have been speaking with me, asking me about a specific project I'd need to take care of.
A view of an office. I'm not sure whether I was actually there. The view was probably of a lobby-like area, near the receptionist's desk. There were a few filing cabinets in the area as well. A tall, young man was speaking with another worker.
I started thinking about my whole choice of career paths. I thought about the very beginning of my career, when I'd been given the choice to work with a woman in one department of the company I'd been working for, or with a man in another department. I'd chosen to work with the man. But I started to wonder what would have happened had I worked with the woman, in the other department.
There was now a view of a backyard of a big house. It seemed to be autumn. Two girls were swinging on an improbably high swing. My view was floating up and down with the swaying of the swings. A man, whose voice I recognized as that of JM, one of my old co-workers, was either on the phone or had just gotten off the phone with one of his neighbors. JM then told his wife E that the neighbors would like the family to come over, so JM's daughters could play with the neighbors' daughters.
I was at some big place, probably something like a fair that was composed of indoor attractions and outdoor attractions. I had been inside one of the indoor attractions, a futuristic-looking, white tent at the end of a long plaza. But I had gone out to take care of something for one of my friends. I had probably left the tent and gone and taken care of everything by flying.
I was now flying back to the tent. I may not have been sure my friend was still there. I may actually have been worried that my friend was lost and that I'd need to go find him. I may have tried to continued to fly, but I may have gotten "gravitated" toward a different group of people.
I was -- somehow -- all tangled up with a member of this group: a kind of fat, pale man with long, frizzy hair and a goatee. He wore a t-shirt and shorts. I don't know what the heck kind of body I had, but the man had to untangle me from himself, like he would have had to untangle a purse from off his shoulders.
But the man did this naturally as he spoke with his friends. He was with three or four other people, a mix of men and women. The whole group of people seemed cool. But they were talking about some conspiracy theory having to do with the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki (although -- I'm not sure that Hiroshima was actually called "Hiroshima" in the dream).
The idea was that there was one person in each instance who was ultimately responsible for the dropping of the bombs. It was like these two people were the ones most affected by the feeling of moral responsibility. But the argument was that these two people had been silenced by the government because of their feelings of moral responsbility.
As the people discussed this, we all (I as some kind of flying entity that was still floating but was slowly descending toward the ground) turned up the walkway toward the futuristic tent. I eventually -- I think -- landed in a stroller. I was either an adult, sitting in a stroller like I was a baby; or else I had actually become a small child or baby sitting in the stroller.
The discussion of the conspiracy continued. But it didn't seem to me like there was much government involvement in this conspiracy. One of the guys, maybe the guy who'd dropped the bomb on Nagasaki, had simply committed suicide. But the other guy's story was a little weird. I listened to it as I descended (awkwardly, as I remember it) into the stroller, and as we passed a concrete structure that looked like an entrance to a subway station.
The man with the frizzy hair and goatee said, "The man asked the government to re-program him. If you were experiencing too much feeling of moral responsibility for what you'd done, the government could re-program you. They did it to some people involuntarily. But you could also request to be re-programmed. And this guy requested it, otherwise he was going to commit suicide.
"But just before he got re-programmed, he was arrested on some drug-related charge. Man... I can't imagine. I don't ever want to be in trouble because of any of that substance-related crap."
I was sitting at a dining table in some kind of communal area, like a really big version of a house's dining room. The atmosphere was really relaxed, even though there were quite a few people scattered among the various dining tables. People may have been watching a television that was somewhere.
My little niece walked up to me. She was wearing a little, white dress with baby blue fringes and probably a belt-like, baby blue ribbon at the waist. She also wore white spandex leggings and white tennis shoes.
She asked if she could sit on my lap. I said sure. She hopped up rather quickly and easily. I commented that she must have grown, because before it would have taken her some effort to get up onto my lap.
My niece sat with her legs straight out. She began squirming around a bit, humming a little tune, I guess like she thought she was dancing while she was sitting. So I grabbed her legs, probably at her shins or ankles. I began humming a classical music tune while moving her legs to the melody. It was a little difficult. I don't think my niece quite knew what I was doing or how to cooperate with the movements of my arms.
My niece asked what I was doing. I said, "It's a way to tell if your feet are awake. It's like saying, 'Hey, feet! Wake up!' And your feet will tell you if you're awake."
I suddenly had a view, either directly or in my mind's eye, of one of my feet. I said, "You can ask your foot, 'Are you awake?' And if your foot's awake, he'll move up and down, like this." I moved my foot laterally. "And if your foot's not awake, he'll move side to side, like this." I twisted my foot from side to side.
I was laying on the floor in the lobby of a doctor's office. Some people were with me, behind me, sitting on chairs. The doctor had just entered the room and was standing just inside the doorway, in front of me, but at a distance of maybe three meters. He was a white man with a slightly balding head of grey hair. He wore squarish eyeglasses and he had blue eyes. He wore something like a cardigan sweater, a button-up shirt, and slacks.
The doctor began explaining something about either his diagnostic techniques or medicine that he prescribed for people. He may have been talking about both things. He explained that his techniques were used to cure people of one of the most frequent causes of death in the United States. The doctor said, "The second most frequent cause of death in the United States, excepting suicide..." and he looked at me significantly.
I looked away from the doctor. He made me feel really uncomfortable. The doctor then went on to talk about the second most frequent cause of death. I don't think he ever mentioned the most frequent cause of death. But I think he did mention that in the United States, suicides were becoming so frequent that they were almost the third leading cause of death (???).
I was watching a young man perform some kind of athletic process. It was for some competition that he'd later be a part of. The young man was a clean-cut kid, like a stereotypical Olympic gymnast. He may have been white, but he may also have been Hispanic.
There was basically an orange wall. The left side of the wall had a yellow bar attached to it. To the right of the bar, at the same height as the bar, was a hoop, like a basketball hoop. Then to the right of that was a cube that jutted out from the wall, like it was a part of the wall. The top of the cube was the same height at the bar and the hoop. There were also a red light and a blue light, right next to each other, somewhere -- either over the bar or between the bar and the hoop.
The young man would descend through the bar, between the bar and the wall, then bounce right back upward through the bar. He would then descend through the hoop. At this point, during his practices, he would do some weird kind of move, where he'd bounce really high. (I'm not really sure how -- or where -- any of these "bounces" actually took place.) The young man would then have to aim himself really carefully so that he could latch onto the hoop. But he'd often miss the hoop altogether. If he caught onto the hoop, I think he'd swing himself onto the top of the cube platform.
The man may have practiced this a few times. I watched him. I provided encouragement. I may also have given a few small pieces of advice. The man, I think, ended the practice session with a better idea of what he wanted to do.
It was now the actual competition. All the time I was watching, I heard an announcer's voice. But I can't remember much of what he said.
The young man descended through the bar, then bounced up through the bar. He descended through the hoop. But this time, instead of bouncing way high into the air, he just bounced up to the level of the hoop. He latched directly onto the hoop.
This was a huge surprise for the announcer, who shouted out, "He's finally got it! What a move!" I could probably also hear a crowd cheering for the young man.
The man began swinging back and forth. I think he had to wait until the lights flashed either red or blue. Then he could swing himself off the hoop and onto the cube platform. The announcer cried, "If he can swing up onto the platform in time, he'll break the world record!"
The light finally flashed the correct color. The young man swung himself off the hoop. I wasn't sure he'd make it. But he flipped up and landed on the platform. The announcer cried, "One minute and three seconds! A new world record!"
I may have seen the time somewhere, maybe at the corner of my vision, as if I were looking at a TV screen, as 1:03.04. I also noticed how the wall on the other side of the cube was a window wall, showing, in the deep blue light of evening, a street scene, like Rockefeller Center, as if this place were part of the NBC studios.
I stood up and ran to the young man. The young man was now a copper skinned man, kind of skinny and scraggly looking, with long, shaggy hair that curled down over his forehead and eyes. He wore an orange tank top and shorts. And his eyes looked a little crazy.
The young man was really grateful to me because I'd supported him so much through his training. He hugged me passionately. I think he was sexually attracted to me, and that he was trying to break me out of my shell and make me sexually attracted to him, too.
The man crossed over some rope that separated the competition from the spectators. We stood by some big, comfortable chair. The man hugged me again, very passionately. I dropped something I'd been holding in my left hand, maybe a water bottle, into the chair.
I suddenly realized that I was sexually attracted to the young man as well. I really wanted to be somewhere alone with him as soon as possible. But I think at this point the young man walked away to go take care of some other stuff.
I was in an office, or actually a place more like a bank. The place looked very nice, with wood walls and wood desks. The desks were all spaced well apart, just like in the customer service area of a bank. Two people sat down before a desk. A woman sat down behind the desk. I either floated above this scene or stood behind the couple (although if I was standing, I must have been kind of tall).
The couple seemed to be kind of surprised to see the woman behind the desk. They were used to dealing with somebody else. But the woman behind the desk, a kind of young looking, Asian woman with a cute, round face and wearing a very prim black-grey skirt-suit and white button-up shirt, told the couple that the woman who usually helped them would not be able to help them today.
The way the woman said this implied that the original woman would never be able to help them again, like she'd either quit or been fired from the position. The couple was surprised. I think they wanted to know why they hadn't been informed of this. But they were too shy to ask the question right out. So they asked how long it had been since the woman had been unable to help her customers.
The new woman replied something like, "Well, she just started getting her stuff ready a few moments ago." This meant, I thought, that the woman had probably quit the job. She'd probably announced that she was quitting only fifteen minutes or so ago. And now the woman was packing up and leaving. The new woman was taking over the original woman's responsibilities immediately. But she wasn't upset by this. She even seemed to be gloating over the fact that the woman had left.