Good morning, everybody.
A movie starring Will Ferrell. The basic idea was that Will Ferrell and his really beautiful wife kept having babies, and that it was now getting to the point where they couldn't afford to have any more. So the couple was trying to do things to make it so they could either stop having sex or stop having babies every time they had sex.
There was a kind of flashback montage that showed various times where the wife was in bed, waiting for Will Ferrell to get out of the bathroom. Each time Will Ferrell would come out of the bathroom doing something wacky or charming, and it was pretty obvious that Will Ferrell and his wife would then have sex and that the wife would get pregnant. I may have seen a lot of this montage from the wife's point of view.
But in the last little scene of the montage, when Will Ferrell came out of the bathroom acting all wacky and charming, the wife said, "Okay, let's get out of bed. Let's go into the living room and paint portraits of each other."
Will Ferrell repeated, "Paint portraits of each other," very seriously and quickly, like a chastised child. He understood that the wife was doing this to get the couple's minds off of sex. But it was pretty obvious that the couple would get aroused by each other again while they were painting each other and that they would have sex and get pregnant again.
There were either three or four people in a loft-like space, sitting on a couple of couches. A more mature man and woman sat on one couch. A younger man, and possibly a younger woman, sat on the other couch. All three or four of the people were colleagues working for the same company.
The older man told the younger man (and woman?) that the older man and woman knew about the romantic relationship between the younger man and woman. The older man said that the younger couple had to stop seeing each other, that relationships at work were not accepted or considered professional.
The younger man didn't really have any intention of breaking off his relationship with the younger woman. He told the older man, "Yeah, we'll go ahead and stop seeing each other. But I know of an older man and woman within the company who are doing the same thing as we are."
The older man understood that this meant him and the older woman. The were, in fact, having a relationship. So if the younger man and woman were supposed to get in trouble for their relationship, then the older man and woman should get in trouble for their relationship, too.
The older man, knowing that he was caught, but still not wanting to admit it, gave the older woman a strange sign to indicate that they should stop harassing the younger couple about their relationship for the time being. The man hunched over, almost down to his knees, then lifted his left hand behind his back and bent his index finger up and down in a "come here" gesture. While the man did this, an image of a transparent newspaper -- like a newspaper made out of a sheet of glass -- rose up behind him. Behind the image of the newspaper, a man could be seen walking around.
I was in a department store. I had walked away from the men's clothing section. But there were some shirts I had been interested in. So I went back. But as I returned to the section, a big, black man was kneeling down in front of a wall-rack of shirts, completely blocking the aisle between the wall-rack and a standalone rack, the only aisle of entrance into the clothing section.
I asked the man to excuse me, but I couldn't control my motions very well, so I kept walking, bumping into the man a little bit. As I bumped into the man, I apologized and patted him on the arm and back. The man wore a pale blue polo shirt of soft thread in a roughly woven pattern. I liked the shirt a lot. I may have thought at that point that I was attracted to the man, or that I was giving him a false indication that I was attracted to him. I got embarrassed and tried to avoid any more interaction with the man.
But while I was looking at shirts (shirts that were way too huge for me) a couple of racks over from the man, the man turned to me and asked for my help. He was trying to get a shirt just like the shirt worn by some basketball player. But he couldn't remember the name of the basketball player. All he could remember about the player was that he was, even by basketball standards, huge, and that he probably played for the L.A. Lakers.
I tried to figure who that person could be. I had a deck of basketball cards in the left pocket of my jeans. So I pulled them out. I shuffled through the cards. There was one really huge player, with a huge, 1970s-style afro. But he played for a team called the Golden State Suns.
I found a couple of cards with basketball players from the L.A. Lakers. I pointed them out to the man. The first guy was not, I knew, the guy the man was referring to. But he was 6'9", which seemed to me to be pretty huge, as if this player would be one of the biggest people in the NBA. The second guy may actually have been the one the man had been looking for. In fact, I was pretty sure he was, and I was excited to have found him. But he was only 6'8" tall, a whole inch shorter than the first guy. It didn't make sense to me.
Suddenly, where the wall rack had been, there was a front yard for a suburban house. The yard was elevated, so that "ground level" for the yard started at about my shoulder. The yard was bounded by a chain-link fence.
A little chihuahua ran up to the fence and began barking furiously. It scared me and annoyed me a whole lot. There may have been another chihuahua in the yard that was less active than the first chihuahua. Even that chihuahua may have been annoyed by the first chihuahua. Something about the first chihuahua's face really disgusted me, like the nose and a patch of flesh around the nose was mottled or swollen or slimy.
I tried to ignore the chihuahua and continue helping the man. I managed to do so, even over the dog's barking. But then the dog started acting annoying in a different way. It was jealous of the attention I was giving the man. So now it acted all sad and whiny. It was poking its muzzle as far through the fence as it could, hoping that I would pet it or hold out my hand so it could lick my hand. But I was afraid that if I got close to the dog at all, it would bite me.
The whole area had now widened out into an outdoor space something like a rooftop on a big building. There were a couple of tiers on the rooftop. The tiers kind of served as bench-like ledges or stage-like platforms.
I sat at the edge of one of these tiers. I was talking with a young woman, maybe in her mid-twenties. The young woman was practicing to become a psychiatrist. But she may also have been involved in theater in some way. She was thin and pretty, with short, brown-blonde hair.
The woman reminded me of my having spoken with her before in some kind of therapy session and telling her that I had a fetish where I liked to wear Pampers Baby Dry diapers. I vaguely remembered the session -- as if it had been part of a dream I'd had but forgotten. The woman told me she had spoken with some of the more senior psychiatrists, and that they all agreed that my wearing baby diapers was something that should be considered illicit or unacceptable. She told me I should stop doing it altogether.
I told the woman I had no intention of stopping wearing diapers, and that there was nothing illegal or illicit about it. I was afraid that the woman could find some way of hurting me, getting me in trouble for my fetish. But I wasn't going to stop just because I was afraid. I could tell the woman was angry and disgusted with me. I looked off to my left. There was a group of men and women playing some kind of silly game. I thought it might be fun to join them.
UPDATE: Added illustration to dream #3, September 28, 2012, 7:25 AM, Mountain Standard Time.