Wednesday, October 31, 2012

escape from the psychic theater!

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I walked into what seemed like a night club for very wealthy people. The place had a dark atmosphere, an all the men and women wore beautiful tuxedos and dresses. The place was incredibly crowded. I found a seat at the very back.

At the front was a stage where a couple men were performing. Their act was part of a benefit for something having to do with one of the most important men in this crowd. There were musical instruments and microphone stands up on stage, like for a rock band. But this act seemed to be more of a stand-up comedy or comedy sketch act. Both men were dressed in a modern style, kind of shabby, wearing flimsy t-shirts and black jeans, and having long, scraggly hair.

As the act continued, one man was left alone on stage. The man now sat down in a chair. He was suddenly dressed in a black velvet dress. He wore a skull-hugging hat and possibly a necklace, both made of something like diamonds. He was dressed as a woman, but he was acting like a transvestite. This transvestite had just been asked to a dance that was a big social event among the wealthy.

The transvestite began giving a monologue, but through voice over, a loudspeaker playing his words, as if they were his thoughts, while he sat still, without moving his lips. The thoughts began with wondering how he should act at the dance. But they eventually turned to some boy, whom the transvestite may have liked.

This act all became too plainly a mockery of the son of important rich man in whose honor this ball was being thrown. It was in bad taste to make fun of the son at this event, possibly because the rich man was sensitive about his son, but possibly because the son had actually died not too long ago.

The man playing the transvestite knew he needed to tone down his act, or change it altogether, before the important rich man ruined his career. So the man playing the transvestite stood up and walked to a microphone and began giving some serious, kind of sentimental act, showing what a wonderful person the son had been.

In the middle of this act, one of my old schoolmates from college, JSp, walked out on stage. A spotlight shone on him. He walked straight forward, as if in a trance, to, and then beyond, the end of the stage. He may have been muttering something as he walked, like he was a little crazy. He continued his walk forward, all the way to the back of the room, as if a walkway had just then been formed for him.

I was now at the back end of a theater, like a small theater in the Village. I was surrounded by old friends from college. We were all our current ages. We were watching a new performance by some of our friends. Some of us who were watching may also have been scheduled to go on stage later on. I was not going on stage.

The people who now got up on stage, ML and one other person, looked and acted like crazy people. They were all scraggly, dirty, and pale. Their hair was thinning, but disheveled, and they wore coats that were way too big for them. They just seemed to putter around on stage, mumbling strange things, more to themselves than to each other. They may also have walked off the regular stage and onto a network of walkways that went around and behind the audience.

Another group of people walked out onto the stage. They also appeared to be old friends of mine from college. They began speaking, either to each other or to the crowd, about moving around either in the dream world or in a state like the out-of-body state. They said that it was an easy thing to do, and that they were a little surprised and disappointed that the people in the audience hadn't started doing it before now. It was like the audience was a class of people experienced at this type of dream movement or out-of-body movement.

Other people around me seemed, at this prompting, quickly to have jumped into this altered state. I had taken quite a while in getting to it. I stood up and ran toward the stage. (Actually, I must have flown toward the stage without thinking of it -- I was going over the heads of the crowd and not using one of the walkways.)

I reached the stage and approached the back of the stage, which was a solid wall. As I approached the wall, it opened up, like an eye would open, and let me out into an area like an alleyway in a big city. There was a long, warehouse-like building off to my right. I knew I could fly, so I got a running start, then began flying up along the building.

I may have planned to fly over the building. But for some reason I landed. I may not have had the ability to fly anymore. I began running along the building, possibly (not really sure) because I thought that once I reached the end of the building I'd have the momentum to fly again. But I kept running and running, never reaching the end of the building.

All around the building was complete darkness, and all around me was fog. I saw through this darkness and fog as if I were running with a headlight guiding my path. I was starting to wonder whether I'd just keep running like this forever and ever. I thought to myself, What's going on? I'm getting nowhere!

Suddenly a hand grabbed my left arm. A voice said, "Dude! You are getting somewhere! You have to calm down your thoughts and uncloud your vision." The voice may have told me to "pull down my shades," as if I were wearing sunglasses or some special kind of eyeglasses.

I reached up to my eyes and pulled down my shades -- oddly enough, I think I pulled them down over my eyes instead of under them. My vision sparkled with slow, white gleams for a moment. As the gleams dispersed, my eyes felt a bit of strain, like I was trying really hard to keep my eyes open while I was tired.

My vision slowly cleared, and I could see that I was in a long driving tunnel, like the Holland Tunnel in New York. But the tunnel may have been kind of narrow, and there were a lot of people out walking around in it. The man and I were actually in a car. I was driving and the man was in the passenger seat.

The car was driving slow and the people were moving slow. But the people would often suddenly walk straight across the tunnel, or they would randomly swerve into the center of the tunnel. I would have to react quickly to avoid hitting the people, even though both their and my actions were so slow. The man said, "See? When you were driving blindly, you risked hitting all these people. You need to stay aware of where you really are, or else you're going to hurt someone."

At this point my consciousness may have faded into some kind of "real life scenario." I don't really remember what it was, though.

But as the "real life scenario" ended -- possibly with my not having done a good job and fighting to get out of the scenario! -- my vision faded, again through the sparkles, into the tunnel. Again the people in the tunnel seemed would get in the way of my car and I'd have to react quickly to avoid hitting them.

But my car slowly faded away, and I found myself out walking among the people. The slow motion suddenly cleared away. When the slow motion cleared, the people in the tunnel also changed a little bit. The tunnel itself also became narrower and smaller, kind of like a footpath tunnel, or even a hallway. The atmosphere, which before had felt so slow and sticky, now felt clear and normal. But most of the people were walking around in a complete daze, like they were on some other world.

I began recognizing people. I knew that I'd known them from the audience I'd been in before I'd made the jump through the stage wall. But none of these people were from my college days. One may possibly have been a girl from the neighborhood I'd lived in before going to college.

I realized that we had all actually been part of some experiment, maybe a government experiment, on psychic people. We were all brought together and then drugged into a state where we would perform our psychic abilities -- mostly out-of-body type abilities. During the experiences, I realized, if we had the ability to see each other for who we really were, we'd recognize each other from the past experiences. But we were so drugged during the experiences that once we woke up, we'd all forget each other.

I hoped to push past this somehow and hold onto my recognition of some of these people. The girl from my old neighborhood seemed to be a little more awake than the others. So I said, "Hey," as she walked past. There was a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. But she kept walking. Another woman, maybe a heavyset Hispanic woman, also seemed to be a little awake. So I tried to get her attention. But she also only slightly recognized me. So I kept walking.

I knew that I was still in full control of my psychic abilities and my consciousness. So I decided to get out of this place before the government could take it away again. There was a door out of the hallway right in front of me. I simply opened it. I could see the night sky, and the hint of some big, hospital-like building (of which this hallway must have been a part) outside the door.

I was about to leave, but a heavy hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. It was a big, fat, black man in a police uniform. He said, "Uh-uh, sir. You aren't going anywhere."

I figured I would still try to escape. But as I tried to back toward the door, the officer pulled out a (purple plastic?) revolver and shot at me. The officer may have hit me with a tranquilizer dart. I knew the officer was trying to sedate me, so he could end my process, erase my memory, and set me back into my normal environment, unaware of what I'd been through.

But I refused to be taken down so easily. I said, "Oh, fuck that bull shit!" I somehow managed to overpower the officer. Either by using my strength (LOL!) or by using psychic powers, I managed to make the officer twist the revolver in toward his own stomach.

I made the officer shoot himself in the stomach with a tranquilizer dart. As the officer did this, he cried, "Oh, dear god, no." He passed out and slumped to the ground. I was holding the tranquilizer gun.

I ran out into the night. Beyond the hospital-like building was a hilly lawn that seemed to be lit by large, stadium-style lights. I seemed to have come out of a door inside of or near some black, tarp-like or tent-like structure, the front of which was flapping back and forth a little. In the distance were a couple workers. I had a bad feeling that they were security officers or that, if they saw me, they'd call security workers to capture me.

I continued running. I was afraid that the tranquilizer -- I wasn't sure whether it had hit me -- was going to take effect and make me pass out very soon. I wanted to keep running, either until I escaped or until the tranquilizer made me pass out. I thought that I could, at the very least, get far away from the building and hide myself somewhere.

I ran toward the top of a hill where there stood a tree with a wide canopy. I ran between the tree, which was on my left, and a fence, which was on my right. On the other side of the fence there seemed to be a densely wooded area. I was still carrying the tranquilizer gun. I threw the gun over the fence, apparently thinking that by doing so I would eliminate the evidence that I had shot the officer with it.

Only a moment after throwing the gun over the fence, I began flying. I slowly floated up over the fence and then up into the thin branches of the densely wooded area. The branches began changing color, becoming pinkish or pinkish-orange.

There seemed to be a place among these strangely colored branches where I could rest, possibly even let myself pass out, and not be detected by the security officers. The place seemed somehow to be disappointing to me, like it was a shabby tree house or a dwelling built by a bunch of dirty monkeys. I didn't really want to be here. But I had no choice. There was nowhere else for me to go.

As soon as I set myself down on the planks that made up the floor of this place, the place changed. First it changed into some kind of living room or entertainment room that seemed to be on a balcony-like floor in a big house. I could see over the balcony ledge to another living room-like area on the floor below.

The view then, while keeping its location steady, became cartoon-like, like flat, thick-lined cartoons such as Dexter's Laboratory. Some cartoon characters actually came into my view. They were all short, little characters, like Dexter. They were also childlike, somehow.

There was some adult woman on the floor below, a kind of guardian to these cartoon characters. The woman may have been real, not cartoon. The cartoon characters were all warning me to be quiet, so that I didn't wake up the woman. If the woman woke up and found out I was hiding here, she'd probably get really angry.

Monday, October 29, 2012

darts of betrayal; switching states; waiting rooms; the hesitant tranny-baby

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a different time period or dimension. The time period may have been the 1940s. It was night. I was in an apartment living room with a man. The room was dim and sepia-toned. The man probably wore a brownish suit. His hair was swept up in a wave from his forehead.

The back wall, along which the couch stood, was lined with papers. The papers may have been pictures or signs. They all indicated goals or missions -- something having to do with the future aims of the man. The man would throw darts at the pieces of paper. The pieces of paper the darts struck indicated something about the man's future. I think once a certain amount of papers had been hit, the man and I would actually start some kind of mission outside the apartment.

The man had been going along pretty regularly, hitting papers with darts. The man seemed to have good aim, which may have meant that he was putting together a pretty good future or mission. But somehow the man had gotten the idea that I had betrayed him somehow. He may now possibly have been coming to think that I had taken the woman he loved away from him.

This may have been true. I certainly remembered the woman (a dignified woman dressed in a Victorian kind of style, with a wide hairstyle and a form-fitting, white, lace dress that puffed out a bit at the collar and shoulders).

I remembered that the woman and I had been involved in some kind of situation, like a mission. But beyond that, I didn't know anything for certain. The woman and I may have gotten together with the aim of hurting the man, as if the man were bad and we were secretly trying to stop him from attaining some evil goal.

The man, in his disappointment, began tossing the darts around randomly. He tossed them without caring. He even tossed them at other walls, where there were no papers. The man started telling me things that implied that he knew the woman and I had gotten together. I wasn't really upset that the man was angry at me. I was more upset that he now seemed to be bent on messing up his future or mission, just because he was disappointed about this affair, which may not have even happened.

Dream #2

I was in a car with my mom and my third oldest nephew. We were driving through some suburban neighborhood that was full of steep hills. I was talking to my mom about how I thought I should possibly go back and work for the National Parks Service, like I had done about a decade ago.

My mom didn't seem to have much reaction to this. But my nephew was interested, asking what it would mean if I went to work for the Parks Service. I told my nephew that it meant I'd have to move to another state, maybe Arizona or New Mexico. I'd be kind of far away, and I'd be working in the forest or the desert all the time. As I said all of this, an image of a map, probably of the Southwestern United States, formed in my head.

Dream #3

I was in a hospital with my mom and sister, who seemed to be a young child. We were here because my mom needed to be seen by the doctor for something. My mom was taken into some hospital room. My sister and I were in a waiting room. But we were then led into a different waiting room.

At some point my sister and I also got separated from each other. I was supposed to find my sister and bring her into my waiting room. I may have found my sister at some point. I may have been a little annoyed to find that she was in hysterics over something I didn't think was a big deal at all.

Dream #4

I was in some place like a clothing store. There were a lot of men, mostly dressed in drag, around me. The men were all going to give me a makeover for Halloween. They decided they were going to dress me up as some kind of glamorous transvestite adult baby. I think I had an image in my mind's eye of me wearing a blonde wig, some kind of pink and white t-shirt, diapers, and some kind of gold-sequin panties over the diapers.

The guys were just about ready to put makeup on my face. I was getting a little worried. I told them, "Guys, if I start to look really awkward or stupid, don't try to be nice to me about it, okay? Just take the makeup off and we'll forget about all this."

Sunday, October 28, 2012

doll fashionistas; clothing store ceramics

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was apparently one of a duo who had created a new version of fashion doll, possibly a new version of Barbie. The other guy and I were taking a tour through different cities, being interviewed about the new doll. Whatever we had done was really special, and it had made us kind of famous.

We were probably wrapping up for the day by heading to be interviewed by two young women. The women themselves were very famous. We walked through a busy section of town and into a big building. We were worried at first that we wouldn't get past security for the building. People didn't really know us by face, even though they knew us by our achievement. But we got past security.

We walked a circuitous route, through hallways like a shopping plaza, until we found ourselves in a narrow hallway, very dim, completely dark in places, with dark green and dark blue walls. The hallway snaked around narrowly and was constantly moving downward, like a ramp.

One of the two interviewers, an Asian woman in her early twenties, very cute, wearing a white t-shirt and blue mini-skirt, walked up to me. The girl grabbed my hand -- her hands were so tiny! -- and led me down the ramp. I suddenly understood that this girl wasn't just interested in interviewing me: she was sexually attracted to me because of whatever I'd done in making the new doll.

We walked down to the bottom of the ramp, where the other interviewer was sitting. The other interviewer was white, maybe in her mid-twenties, a little taller, not as "cute" as the Asian girl, and dressed in more businesslike attire. This woman was sitting on a stool, with an empty stool right next to her. It was like the two interviewers conducted their interviews right here, at the bottom of the ramp.

Leading up the ramp from the woman was a long, long line of people, like normal people who were all here either to meet the interviewers, meet the fashion doll creators (me and the other guy), or be on the interview themselves, like being on this interview show was one way people could get a shot at fame. The hallway the people in line stood in was completely dark.

But the Asian woman led me and the other guy around to some side area. The girl told me that the other interviewer was wrapping things up for the day. She had to spend a little time making the line of people understand that the day was over and there were going to be no more interviews for the day. As soon as the line of people were gone, the other interviewer would come meet me, the other guy, and the Asian girl.

I first thought that the plan was that the interviewer was going to get all the other people out of the way, so that when we were brought out to do our interview, the other people, seeing that we were ahead of them, wouldn't become jealous of us, maybe even trying to attack us.

But then I realized that the other guy and I weren't going to be doing an interview with these two girls. The girls were so impressed by this new fashion doll we'd created that they'd become sexually attracted to us. The girls were trying to get rid of all their fans so they could leave for the day and take me and the other guy out on a date. I believe the Asian woman liked me and the white woman liked the other guy.

Time now flashed forward. I was watching television. The two men who had created the fashion doll (I was no longer one of them) now had a television program of their own. The program was some kind of pop culture or fashion program.

The two men were supposed to be geniuses regarding fashion and pop culture, and their opinion was really valued. But they were really irreverent about everything. One easily got the impression that the men either hated everything or at least thought nothing had any real intellectual or serious value. It was a little jading.

The men were in some big room that looked like either a huge living room or a huge loft apartment mixed with an art studio. But the image was like three Polaroid snapshots of the men in the room. The three snapshots were scattered across the screen. Each of these "snapshots" were actually active, live frames of video, capturing the men in basically the same position, doing basically the same things, but with the time set off a bit from the other "snapshots."

The men were talking about what segment was coming up next. But as they spoke, they were actually laying with each other on the floor. The man who had been the "other guy" was laying on his back on the floor. The man who had been me lay on top of the other guy. The man who had been me was really skinny. But he also had long hair -- and breasts!

This man was talking about the next discussion segment, which would apparently be coming up after the commercial break. But the man now said, "And when we come back, I get to rub my boobies against the man!" The man now began rubbing his breasts against the other guy. I was pretty sure the guys were going to start having sex then and there.

This was a little disappointing to me. I'd thought the guys were going to be with the two girls who were planning to interview them. Now it turned out that the guys were gay. I didn't want the guys to be gay, because I identified with one of the guys: the guy now rubbing his breasts against the other guy!

The guy with breasts now said something like, "I can't wait to do this guy really hard. I'm getting the chance to put myself really far up into him!"

The guy with breasts, maybe now wearing a green silk camisole, with the straps down so that the guy's breasts hung out, now took his fist and began shoving it up up some part of the other guy's body, either his anus or vagina, as if the other guy had a vagina instead of a penis. As the guy thrust his fist up the other guy's body, the other guy's body would actually hop up from the floor a bit, as if the guy were thrusting really hard.

My view was now outside the building where this loft or studio was. The building was a big, old brick warehouse. The warehouse may still, in some way, have been functioning as a warehouse. The day was clear, but cold. The building shaded the sun from the alleyway.

Two women pulled a pickup truck or a small truck back toward a kind of high loading dock. The two women got out of the car. The women may have been in their late thirties or early forties. They both looked a  bit worn out by life. They were both kind of overweight. They both wore kind of dumpy looking clothes.

One of the women was blonde, with pale skin and a square face. She wore big, clunky eyeglasses, a puffy, blue jacket, and blue jeans. She used to be friends with the two guys. They may all have worked together on some art project a few years back. The blonde woman was trying to strike her friendship with the men back up. She was hoping that the men would be able to help her find some work. She was in a lot of financial trouble.

A skinny, well-dressed man, something like a butler, walked out onto a portion of loading dock some distance away from the women. He asked who the women were. After the women identified themselves, the butler-like man waved approval at them and walked back inside. Apparently the guys and the butler had been expecting the women.

The blonde woman was now getting a little scared. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to meet the guys again. It seemed to her, now, like they had become so high-class, while she was just some poor loser. The woman told the other woman that she just needed to take a few more minutes before she headed in. She got back into the truck and lit a cigarette.

The other woman, a brunette who looked a little bit older than the blonde, but who was a little bit thinner, more attractive, and better dressed, got back in the truck, too. But when she saw the blonde woman smoking a cigarette in the truck, she kind of tensed up.

The blonde woman decided to get out of the truck while she was smoking. But before she did she said to the brunette, "You really think I'm weird, don't you? You just never say it. But I can tell!"

Dream #2

I was in a bedroom, laying on some blankets on the floor. The lights were all on. An old colleague of mine, TD, walked into the room. TD was a senior colleague, kind of a role model of mine, and well-respected for the quality of his work. He's also been a person I've looked to for advice over the past couple months.

I was happy to see TD in person, having only spoken to him by phone and email recently. I thought that now that he was here, we could probably be more active in working to get some things in order regarding my life.

But TD knelt down to me and told me something like he understood how tough things were on me right now, but how he didn't really have any power or say to change them. He told me that there probably was a chance that things would be okay for me, so I shouldn't give up, and that I should keep trying, even right now, to make things better.

We both stood up. TD was unbelievably tall, maybe a whole meter taller than I. I shook hands with TD. We both walked out of the bedroom. I understood TD was going somewhere completely different from wherever I was going. I wasn't disappointed at how things had turned out between TD and me. But, even as we parted, I hoped that he would change his mind and decide there was some way he could help me.

I was now in a room like a room in a clothing store or a Victoria's Secret. The walls and floor were some kind of white stone or tile, well-polished. The light in the room was dim, like it was coming from electric lights made to look like dim candle chandeliers. Tables displayed folded piles of clothing. The room had a hexagonal or octagonal shape, and on each wall or alternating walls was a window, curtained over with white fabric.

There were two other men in the room. They were talking about something like hanging up new drapes along the walls. They had made a few suggestions. But I, sitting at some distance from them, staring at the floor, and caught up in some other thoughts, hadn't really heard any of the suggestions.

Suddenly one of the men asked me about the suggestions. I fumbled out some answer, not really knowing what I was talking about. The man said that what I just said only proved that I hadn't been listening at all, that I never listen, and that that was why I'd never get anywhere in this business.

I was now standing up (seeing myself from a distance, as if my view were outside my body) and stretching fabric along all the walls of the room. The fabric was huge, reaching all the way to the tops of the walls, even though the walls were way higher than I could reach, and I had no way of supporting or fastening the fabric at that height. The fabric was some kind of hideous pink-orange fabric with designs like old flower or fruit illustrations on it. It was thick and thickly pleated, like the fabric for old curtains.

I stretched the fabric haphazardly over all the walls, even the walls that didn't have windows. The situation had somehow changed as I had done this. It was now possibly like the men hadn't just accused me of being inattentive, and I was now back to having to prove my attentiveness -- choosing to do so by actually stringing out the drapery instead of talking about it. It may also have been like the men had accused me, but that I, in hopes of disproving their accusation, went ahead and installed the drapery myself.

But I was now finished with this project. I was either finished with work for the day or I was set up on some other project. I walked out of this room and into the main area of the store.

The main area of the store had a wider variety of merchandise. There were a lot of sections for men's clothes and even men's accessories. This was a little disappointing to me. I had been interested in the women's clothes, and I'd wanted to spend all my time around them. Even seeing men's clothes was a big turn-off for me -- even though all the clothes and accessories were actually really nice.

There also seemed to be one or more guys following me. They may have been trailing me to see how well I was doing my job. I wasn't doing my job very well. I was supposed to be interacting with customers, trying to sell them our product. But I felt really ugly, and I was doing everything I could to avoid customers.

I would keep my head down and stare at all the merchandise really closely. I had the feeling people would start to think I was a customer. I feared that people would even start to think I was a little suspicious, like I was staring so intensely at everything that I was probably going to try to steal something.

But the guys also seemed to be following me because they were sexually attracted to me. It seemed like every guy who worked at this store except for me was gay. They all seemed to be attracted to me, too. This was a little annoying. I rather wished that girls would follow me around like this. But no girls worked at the store. I was selling men's clothing and being followed around by men. It was a total turn-off.

I walked back into the room I'd come from, but through a different doorway. I then headed right back out of the room, through the first doorway I'd walked through. As I walked out of the room, a Southeast Asian American man was walking in front of me. He looked friendly.

The man kept looking back over his left shoulder at me, tossing something like cards onto the floor on his left side. I looked down to the cards. They were like square drink coasters, but with two corners -- diagonal corners -- rounded off. The cards had a kind of zigzagging pattern of brown and cream, with brown, eye-like shape in the center.

I knew these cards were something mystical, something like Tarot cards. But I couldn't discern their meaning. And there were one or two other guys following behind me. So I couldn't really stop to inspect the cards. I knew if I did stop, the men behind me would think I was acting suspicious and try to do something bad to me.

I was now sitting outside the store, on the asphalt of the parking lot, amid a bunch of boxes. Some of the boxes were opened. I was going through the merchandise in the boxes. Most of the merchandise was ceramic or porcelain ware. A lot of it was really huge: like trays that were the size of an entire coffee table. Some of it was beautifully done. Other stuff looked like it had been made by little kids as part of a school project. All of it was beautifully colored, either finely or crudely.

On one of the crude pieces there were ornaments running along the side. The ornaments were elliptical or rectangular, plate-like, with spaces for writing. Some of the spaces had writing on them. The writing was supposed to advertise the product, sell the product by saying what was so great and artistically valuable about it.

I read one of these advertisements. It was mostly in Japanese (which I can't read in waking life). It discussed how well this item sold when, during some kind of massive power outage, the global stock markets were all shut down except for the "Pink Market," which was basically a market that only sold stocks related to sexual and erotic merchandise. But the Pink Market had done so well that even non-sexual stocks found a way to sell on the exchange.

Something about this was hilarious to me. I couldn't believe that something could have happened in the world to shut down every market except the market for sexual merchandise. And I couldn't believe that something being such a big hit on the sex market was such a strong prestige point for a product.

I had put this huge piece of ceramic away, but apparently I was still laughing at it. A Japanese man came up to me and asked me what I was laughing at. I tried to show the man the piece of ceramic with the strange inscription on it. But I couldn't find it. I found a similar piece of ceramic and showed it to the man.

The man read an inscription on the piece and began laughing. The man showed me the inscription. The inscription said something about how this piece of merchandise sold extremely well, even though it was widely known that the procedures for making it had declined rapidly in quality, and that the product was unsafe to use and unsafe to make. The public knew all about this, but they still valued the product highly.

I thought this inscription was also funny. But it only made me desire even more to show the man the first inscription I'd seen. I felt like this second inscription was more like a follow-on to the first inscription. I felt like if the man saw the first inscription, he'd understand the second inscription even better.

So I started looking for the first piece of ceramic. But I wasn't finding it. I pulled out a huge, finely done piece of ceramic. As I was doing so, I believe some scraggly-looking man, apparently my manager or the manager of the store who owned all this ceramic, came up to me and asked what I was doing here. I suddenly felt like I was probably doing something I wasn't supposed to be doing, by looking through all this merchandise. So I decided to stop.

Saturday, October 27, 2012

obama, fozzie, and goldin; ollie and romney; stubborn laundry; psychiatrist's phone; joy house

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a dark room like a mix between a living room and part of a factory. There were a number of other people in the room with me. But it also felt like I was sleeping in the room alone. I was laying on the couch, mostly covered by a blanket. The other people in the room were beyond my feet, and I never saw them.

I had been facing the back of the couch. But now I turned around. There was a window high on the wall opposite the couch. A gauzy white curtain was blowing in the breeze, occasionally letting in a clear view of the starry night outside. I could see the moon and stars. The moon was huge.

In front of the moon ran two electrical wires. Both wires had plastic nodes on them. The plastic nodes flashed red and blue, in some kind of pattern. I had a feeling that this pattern had something to do with a new digital technology.

Suddenly President Obama began speaking. He may have been in the room or somewhere just outside the window, or he may have been transmitting his voice by whatever technology the electric lines and flashing lights were using.

President Obama was speaking about the Muppets character Fozzie Bear. Fozzie may have been Baby Fozzie, from the Muppet Babies. Obama said that Fozzie had had some specific reaction to the flashing lights. Because of this reaction, Obama discerned some kind of weakness in Fozzie's character.

Obama was planning to cut Fozzie from some kind of special program Fozzie (and possibly I and the other people in the room?) was involved with. Obama said something like, "If Fozzie feels bad about this project, then let him get out of it. Get him out of the project and let him go all the way back home."

I didn't think that was what Fozzie wanted, so I decided to stand up for him. I was going to make some point on behalf of Fozzie. I stood off of the couch and walked over to some conveyor belt system along the wall just past the side of the couch where my head had been. It was now daytime, and plenty of natural light was coming in through the high window.

I had to walk up a couple of steps to get to a platform where the conveyor belt ended. From this ending the conveyor belt went up toward the back wall. The conveyor belt may have been in two sections: a kind of flat section and a really steep section. There was an opening in the right wall about two meters away from me. Apparently, stuff got shoved out from that hole and then moved down or up the conveyor belt.

Somehow, instead of talking about Fozzie Bear, Obama (wherever he was) and I got to talking about the photographer Nan Goldin. There was going to be some kind of special exhibition of photography or some other kind of art. My works of art (???) were going to be included in this exhibition. I thought that the people who ran the exhibition should definitely give some kind of credit and thanks to Nan Goldin for the influence her works had on the art world.

As I was having this conversation, I had walked down from and back up to the conveyor belt platform a couple of times. The conveyor belt was now moving tiny crumbs of bread along toward me. I knew I had to catch the bread and do something with it. But I wasn't sure what.

Obama or somebody else now told me that Nan Goldin was actually going to have a new show soon. I was really excited to hear that. I had an idea of where it would be. It seemed like it was going to be in some big museum. But it also felt like it was going to be in a gallery.

I could see some of the photos in my mind's eye. I was disappointed by them. They were all blurry photos, apparently of items in grocery stores. The backgrounds were pink and blue, like colorfully painted walls in houses. In the foreground were vegetables or fruits, like clumps of bananas or asparagus. The blurriness of the photos made the clumps look really formless.

The photos were really boring. I was really disappointed by them. I kept hoping that there would be some other photos, photos of people, which I thought Goldin was so good at.

Dream #2

I was standing before a round dining table for maybe eight or ten people. The table was in a big, empty space like a restaurant that wasn't quite open for the day. The restaurant was bright and airy, like a big window-wall somewhere in the distance was letting in a lot of natural light.

Lieutenant Colonel Oliver North was sitting at the table. He was wearing nice, business casual style clothes: khaki slacks and a soft-fabric button-up shirt with a pink-and-blue plaid pattern. North had his chair pushed back from the table. I stood almost at North's right knee, pretty much in between North and the edge of the table.

North was talking to me about the upcoming Presidential election. He was speaking to me very gently and in a friendly manner. But he was trying very hard to persuade me to vote for Mitt Romney. Everything he said had an undertone of threat to it -- not like North would hurt me or mess up my life if I didn't vote for Romney, but like he'd stop having me for a friend, or he'd stop supporting me morally, if I didn't vote for Romney.

I didn't feel like being forced to vote or forced to talk about who I was going to vote for. I told North so, even though I was afraid that telling him so would make him angry with me. North didn't seem to mind very much. He leaned forward, kind of hunched over the table, and began pushing some stuff around on the table, maybe little cubed crumbs of bread.

Dream #3

I was in a laundry room. I had some clothes in the washer. The washer seemed to be high up, like it was on a tall set of shelves. The washer was a front-loading washer. In order to get to the door of the washer, I had to stand up on a chair or a stack of baskets or something.

Something was wrong with my laundry. It seemed like the clothes weren't washing. I climbed up to the laundry machine and looked in. It may have seemed like there was no water going into the machine. Somehow, though, I managed to make it so that water was going into the machine. The clothes got wet and then started spinning around.

But now my laundry was coming out of the top of the machine! I couldn't figure out what was making this happen. I climbed higher up, possibly even climbing onto the same shelf that the laundry machine was sitting on, and looked at the top of the laundry machine.

There was some kind of hole, like a hole for pouring in laundry detergent, on the top of the machine. But the hole was really big: maybe 30 cm long and 15 cm wide. Big items of laundry, like towels and even sheets, would fly out of the hole. I had to stuff them back in. But other things would fly out. I'm not sure how, but eventually I may have stopped everything from flying out.

Dream #4

It was a bright, sunny day. I was out on a sidewalk beside a wide, busy city street. Just off to my left was a sheltered bus stop. I was heading toward the street corner, then across the street, to one of a row of brownstone buildings where my psychiatrist's office was. I may have just gotten a new psychiatrist. This may have been the session where we were going to meet each other.

But I was now on the phone. I could see my psychiatrist, a young, pretty, blonde woman, sitting at the bus stop. I could also hear her on my phone. But she wasn't talking to me. She was talking to my old psychiatrist. They were having some discussion about some logistical issue.

The new psychiatrist thought I'd be late somewhere or that I'd have trouble paying a bill or something. None of this was true, but the new psychiatrist acted as if it were true. She told my old psychiatrist that that would be no problem. It would cause a delay in our meeting today, because my psychiatrist would have to go take care of some business before she met with me. I watched my psychiatrist stand up and walk across the street, as if she were going to take care of whatever the business was.

I couldn't believe she'd walked away. There was no business to take care of, since nothing was really wrong with the logistics of our meeting. But now, it seemed, I'd be delayed in meeting with my psychiatrist. I couldn't really believe this. I continued walking to the building. I was probably telling myself that really, after all, the psychiatrist would be in the building, ready for our first session. I hadn't really seen her walking away.

Dream #5

I was walking through some neighborhood near my house, though it was a really nice neighborhood. The neighborhood felt enclosed somehow, like a sound stage for a movie. I walked past one house with a brick-and-iron fence around it. The house seemed to have window walls all along its front, so I could easily see into it. It looked like a normal suburban house, but something about it seemed really nice.

I was in really bad condition financially and emotionally, and contrasting this nice neighborhood and house with my own emotions caused me to get really upset. My knees buckled and I fell to the ground.

I now saw a sign on the brick wall of the fence. It said "JOY HOUSE." I knew the "Joy" meant the "Joy" in the name of DK the department head for a company I used to work for. I didn't know my boss lived so close to me! I ran my finger along the letters of the sign. The letters were fashioned out of something like thin metal wire, like the metal of a clothes hanger.

I wondered if I might be able to visit DK. I knew she wasn't awake yet: the inactivity of the house suggested that everybody in DK's family was still asleep. I also wondered whether it would be inappropriate for me to try to meet with DK, anyway. After all, DK had a husband and family. Nobody else in the family knew me. Maybe nobody else in the family would accept me as a friend, like DK did.

But I now found myself inside the kitchen of the house. The kitchen seemed to be a little messy. There may have been a plastic (or metal?) table-top for a baby's high-chair on the kitchen counter.

Somewhere, on the counter or the table-top, there were crumbs, possibly bread crumbs. I decided I needed to clean up the messy kitchen. I may have decided to start with these crumbs. But, instead of cleaning the crumbs, I may have decided to start eating them.

Friday, October 26, 2012

the vanishing pleasure dome

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was with a group of friends in some place like a theme restaurant mixed with an indoor amusement park. The place was enormous. It was divided into a number of small sections. Each section was like a different theme restaurant or theme area for amusement park rides. The sections were mostly connected by a mall-like hallway, although some of the sections also just blended directly into other sections. A lot of the sections were dark, with little gleams of light, like reflections from a mirror ball, floating around the room.

I had broken off from my friends at some point. We'd all been in a restaurant section. I had stood up and walked away. Now I was trying to get back to them. But nothing around me looked familiar anymore. I didn't know what section my friends were in.

I was in the mall-like hallway section for a moment. I knelt or sat down to tie my shoes. When I stood up, I was even more lost than before.

I wandered through some of the interconnected sections, mainly walking through restaurants that seemed like bars, too -- like a lot of people were drunk and partying, or sitting around in booth seats with drinks and talking really loudly. I kept thinking I had happened upon my group of friends. But I never did, and I only felt more and more lost, like I was constantly working my way away from, instead of toward, my friends.

It now seemed like this place was closing down for the day. The sections were all emptying out. Wait staff, dressed like workers at a movie theater, were coming in and cleaning up the sections. Dim lights had come on in most of the sections.

I walked up to one of the wait staff and asked him where my friends were (as if he'd know who and where my friends were?...). The man seemed to know what section my friends had been in, though he probably wasn't sure they were still there. He pointed off to my right, toward a section of mall-like hallway. One of the other waiters confirmed the directions the first waiter had given.

I was now walking around in the mall-like hallway. But the building seemed to be vanishing with each step I took. I suddenly found myself outside, on a slope of almost barren soil. The building still seemed to be vanishing piece by piece, until it was nothing more than a run-down, dirty-boarded house at the top of the slope. An Hispanic woman stood on the porch of the house.

I looked down at the ground. There was a pair of old, white sneakers. I picked up the sneakers. The house had now also disappeared. The only thing, apparently, that was left from the building was the pair of sneakers. And it was like something, some aspect of the building, had concentrated itself into the sneakers.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

restaurant with friend; wearing little panties

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

It was night. I was in a restaurant with my old friend ML. We may have been with some other friends. The restaurant we were in was dim, lit by candlelight. The restaurant may have been a French-style restaurant or fancy cafe.

ML and I walked up to a bar on the opposite side of the restaurant from our table. We were apparently going to order desserts from the bar, like the bar was actually a coffee and pastry counter. There was a stand-up card display of desserts. There may also have been a fold-out menu.

ML may already have known what he wanted. I had to look for a minute to decide. I felt like ML was a little disappointed in me. I felt like he thought that, by getting dessert, I was overeating. I may have thought that I could make ML less disappointed in me by getting a light dessert rather than a heavy one. But I may have decided on some kind of chocolate-coated chocolate cheesecake with some kind of sweet, red shavings or sprinkles on it.

Dream #2

It was night. I was in a small bedroom a few floors up in a small apartment building. The bedroom probably wasn't mine: I was probably just watching it for somebody. The room was cluttered. It had two beds, both of which were piled up with the room owner's belongings. In addition to watching the room, I may also possibly have been assigned to ordering the room so that some of these personal belongings could easily be moved out.

I had been facing a bed along one of the short end walls. I now noticed that the bed to my right had some piles of neatly folded clothes all stacked up under something that looked like a broken-apart desk. I looked closer at the clothes and saw they were mainly women's clothes.

Then I saw some panties. The panties were kind of tiny, maybe for young girls, probably too small for me. But I figured I'd try to wear them, anyway. I tried on one pair of panties. They may have fit, but I wasn't satisfied with them.

There were a second pair, which I thought were lovely. They were also tiny. The hips had a wide look to them, like a mix between boy-short panties and bikini panties. They were white cotton, but they had childish, purple designs on them, maybe like letters and numbers. There may also have been a "pocket" design somewhere, like the pentagonal house-shape of the back pockets of jeans, except really small.

I may have wanted to try on these panties. But as I did, I could hear three or four old people down on the sidewalk outside. They were having some normal conversation. They were completely unaware of me. But I thought that if I could hear them right now, they might be able, at any point in time, to see me trying on these panties.

I think the people who owned this apartment knew I was a bit of a transvestite, and they didn't care. But I didn't want other people to know. I wasn't even really afraid of the old people downstairs knowing. What I was more worried about were younger guys walking past the building, accidentally seeing me, getting angry, and deciding to get violent with me. So I decided not to try wearing the panties, even though I liked them a lot.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

wearing friend's panties; mom accuses me; devil takes over me; creditors harass me

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a room like an exhibit room in a museum. The room was dim, with rough, cream-colored walls. The room was divided into two sections, in an L-shape. At the joint of the rooms there was a huge stack of stuff, like boxes. Among the boxes may have been glass and wood museum display cases and cabinets.

I had been crouching on the floor, my back turned at about a 45-degree angle to the piles of stuff. But I now stood and turned toward the piles. My old boss and very good friend EB stood on the other side of the piles. Apparently my job had to do with sorting out these piles. I spoke with EB a little bit about some of my older jobs. EB listened sympathetically with me, possibly agreeing that there had been good parts and bad parts to my old jobs.

I now turned away from the piles of stuff and toward a conveyor belt, which lay on the opposite side of the room. A young woman also stood at the conveyor belt. Our job may have been to take and sort things which came toward us along the conveyor belt. Or it may have been to take things, sort them, and put them on the conveyor belt.

The woman and I spoke for a moment, then turned toward the conveyor belt. As we did so, three boxes, kind of like cake boxes, slid up toward me. The boxes were a little bit open, and I could see that stacks of well-folded lingerie were in each box.

The young woman told me she had put those boxes together for me. She had a bunch of extra lingerie, and she couldn't keep it at her house anymore. Since she knew I liked lingerie, she thought she'd either give or loan me the lingerie. That way I could hold onto the lingerie for safe keeping, but I could also enjoy it. I think the girl liked me, and was turned on by the fact that I liked wearing lingerie. So she may have been hoping that she could see me wearing her lingerie.

I took the boxes of lingerie and walked them to my room (which was now, conveniently, adjacent to the room I was standing in). I sat the boxes of lingerie on my bed.

I knew the woman and I were in kind of a rushed situation, and that I should get back to work as soon as possible. But when I saw some of the lingerie, I felt like I had to try it on. I opened a box and pulled out a few pairs of panties. One pair of panties was pink satin, in a bikini style. I took off my pants and underwear and put on those panties. I may also have taken off my shirt, thinking I'd put a camisole on instead.

I may actually have gone to the bathroom at some point. I may have gotten an erection before or while I was urinating. So now my erection was pressing up against my panties, and there was a little drop of urine wetting the panties.

I now really felt I needed to get back to work. So I stood up and pulled on my pants, which were now dull-green shorts that went down to just below my knees. The shorts rode a little low, so that the waistline of my panties were visible. I walked back out toward the conveyor belt, trying to put my shirt back on in a hurry, so that the workers other than the young woman wouldn't see the waistline of my panties.

The room the conveyor belt was in was a lot larger and airier than it had been before. The room may even have been open somehow to the outdoors. As I reached the conveyor belt, I was still working to put my shirt on. I was standing right in front of the young woman. I could tell that she could see the waistline of my panties. But her reaction was kind of silent. I couldn't really tell what the woman thought of me.

Dream #2

I was in a large room where a presentation was about to be given. The room was full of people. The room was small, like a side room, or a choir's dressing room, at a church. But the room was decorated so that it looked like a small mock-up of a church sanctuary. The room was rectangular. Folding chairs were all set out to face one of the wide walls, with a stage-like area before it that looked like a flowery altar.

I walked up to the seats and sat down. The seats were now almost completely full. I'd saved a seat right next to me with a pamphlet, and maybe a Bible. I was expecting my mom to arrive at any moment. But now the presentation -- something like a business presentation -- had begun, and my mom was nowhere to be seen. I tried to listen to the presentation, but I was a little anxious about my mom.

Suddenly my mom and sister walked into the room. They stomped up behind me. My mom whispered over my shoulder and into my ear, "Do you want me to be a bitch?" I was a little shocked by this. Apparently my mom and sister were angry with me. I couldn't figure out why. My mom sat down in a seat separated by a meter or two from the rest of the seats. My sister may have left the room, as if she were going to take care of some kind of business against me.

I was trying to figure out what could have made my mom so upset with me. I stood up and walked away from the seats. At first I may have been planning to leave the room. But then I got the distinct idea that my mom and sister were planning something against me, using something about internet usage as evidence of my guilt regarding something.

I turned back toward my mom. She now seemed to weigh about twice as much as she does in waking life. She was wearing a turquoise sweater. She may have said or communicated in some other way that she was, in fact, planning to get me in trouble with the law based on something on the internet. I didn't do whatever she was going to claim I'd done on the internet. But she was going to make it look like I had done it.

I knelt down in front of my mom. I may even have rested my chin against something -- like a huge binder? -- that rested on my mom's lap. I may even have rested my chin on my mom's stomach. I whispered to my mom, "Don't you dare try anything like that against me, Mom. I have a lot of support. There are people who are willing to stand up for me. And I've kept in contact with them. They know what I've done. And they can back me up."

I could now see that my mom was backing down from whatever plans she'd had against me. But now that she was backing down, I was starting to feel guilty. I still didn't know what I'd done to make her so angry with me. I would never have tried purposely to hurt my mom's feelings.

Dream #3

It was a sunny day. I was out in some space like a football field for some high school in a mountain town. Around the field, at least beyond one end zone and the left side of the field, were short cliffs and then tall, wooded slopes.

I may have seen or somehow known that the goalposts at the end zone were secretly missile launchers. At the top of each pole in the goalpost was a tiny canister, shaped almost like a battery. This canister was a miniature nuclear missile. I knew that there were also larger nuclear missiles somewhere in this area, maybe underneath the field itself.

There were now pick-up trucks parked out on the football field, like the football field was supposed to be a parking lot. I was having a conversation in my head with one of my old bosses and mentors, JS. I was telling JS that it was a lot of stress and responsibility always having to know about the status of the nuclear missiles. JS agreed with me. I may have been talking about everything as if I were planning to leave this nuclear missile job, or as if I had already left it some time ago.

As I continued to discuss the stress of the job with JS, I may have gotten onto the topic of keeping a steady mind. There were especially times when this was important, such as when one went into a reverie or dream state.

I found myself falling into one of these states right now. In this reverie state I met with two characters whose faces were really unstable. One had really cartoony eyes. Whenever this guy got upset, his eyes would waver about, like some kind of animation made with pastel crayons. Another guy's whole head would become all blurry and shaky in a really scary way.

I understood that these guys were playing these tricks with their appearance as a way to throw my spirit off balance. I was guarding some important secrets, and I was in control of whatever powers the secrets concerned. If the guys could throw me off balance, they thought, they could get control of the powers.

I managed to resist those characters and wake myself up from that reverie state. But I almost immediately fell back into another reverie state. I first found myself walking up one of the cliffs. But I then found myself walking up a wooden staircase in some mansion or cathedral.

I met with a man who basically said he was the  Devil. He tried to take over my mind, rather directly, without playing any games. He was trying to get into me so he could directly control my identity. I had to fight -- somehow -- to keep this character out of my mind. I managed to keep the character out of my mind.

I woke out of this reverie state in some short, shallow-arched tunnel. I was leaning against the concrete wall on the right side of the tunnel, looking out toward some area like a beach. I was rather proud of myself for having fought against the character I'd just fought against. I felt like it had taken a lot of strength.

I walked out of the tunnel. There was some space like an amphitheater: a kind of plaza of tiered concrete. On some of the concrete tiers there were occasional aluminum benches. Just beyond the amphitheater area was a beach or the ocean or a wide, wide field.

Scattered throughout the amphitheater were some young men and women. We were all friends or students or co-workers. We were planning to do something together here. Whatever we were doing may have had something to do with the secret the reverie-characters were trying to get out of me.

Just as the young men and women were deciding to go away from the amphitheater and start taking care of things, I felt my identity shift. I could feel the Devil character taking over my personality. I didn't even care. I thought it was kind of nice. I had the idea that I, now the Devil character, would get close to each young man and woman and take aware their own identities, just like my identity had been taken away. I was very blissful about this, and it all made me want to act very kindly toward the young men and women.

But as I made a few attempts to take the young men's and women's identities away, the young men and women began to suspect who I was. I got afraid of being discovered outright. So I decided to pull back a bit and find a slower way of seducing the young men's and women's minds.

There were a few young men and women standing around and on a long bench. I began playing around on the bench, like I was doing lazy gymnastics moves, while talking about the science and history of transistors and computers. People seemed to be interested in this. I was still feeling rather scared and anxious, trying not to give away who I really was, and hoping to calm down people's suspicions. As I spoke, my voice may even have quivered a little bit, like I was a little kid who was really eager to please and impress.

Dream #4

I was walking on a concrete path in the lawn of a courtyard of "my apartment complex." I may have been trying to take care of something, like paying my rent. But I also knew I was in a lot of financial trouble. I wasn't sure, from day to day, or moment to moment, whether I'd actually have my rent money in the bank. Some creditor, possibly out to get my overdue student loan payments, could actually have found a way to take all the money out of my bank account.

I walked into a hallway leading up to the landlord's office. Along the left wall of the hallway were everybody's mailboxes. I opened up my mailbox and pulled out my mail. There was a lot of junk mail that looked like it was actually important mail. I had to look at it a couple times to make sure it wasn't actually important mail.

I also found some mail from me on the floor or on a chair across the hallway from the mailboxes. I looked through that mail, too. It was like the postal worker had set that mail there instead of in my box because he thought I was going on some long vacation and that I wouldn't be back for a while. It was like laying the mail on the floor was more secure, for longer periods, than laying the mail in my box.

As I approached the landlord's office, I noticed that one of the pieces of mail I thought was junk mail was actually mail from a creditor. A creditor had, in fact, been sent after me for my student loan payments. I now owed a whole bunch of money. It wasn't just all the money that would have gone to my rent: it was a whole lot more money than I even had. I stood frozen at the threshold of my landlord's office -- the office had nobody in it -- wondering what the heck I was supposed to do with myself now.

Monday, October 22, 2012

south african spy; drug dealing spy family; science fiction interview

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A man -- who was also I, even though I wasn't seeing from the man's point of view, but from a view only 20cm or so from the man's face and directed toward the man. The man may have been black, with a light complexion, short-shaved hair, and a muscular body.

The man was a spy. He had traveled to a few cities around the world on a few different missions. He was now in a hotel, possibly in South Africa. The hotel was kind of dingy, with old-looking, concrete or white stone walls. But it was supposed to be a high-class hotel.

The man lay down in his bed. He pulled a cell phone up to his ear. He explained to his bosses how he'd been trailed through the city. He said that he was certain people now knew who he was.

The bosses told the man that everything was alright. The bosses said they'd send another agent to meet the man in just a couple hours. The man was to meet with the agent the bosses sent at a specific restaurant or cafe in the city.

The man hung up the phone. He understood that the bosses were laying a trap for the man. Since the man had been spotted, he was no longer a good agent. Since the bosses had no use for an agent that was no longer any good, they were going to kill the man. The man knew he needed to escape the city before the agents who were sent to kill him came after him.

The man went into the bathroom and pulled a huge Ziploc bag full of some material out of a suitcase. He may have pulled another bag full of something else out of the suitcase. The man was now apparently ready to leave the hotel and find a way out of the city.

Dream #2

I was in a nice, big hotel suite with a few young looking, beautiful, Latina girls. The girls were dressed casually, in kind of baggy t-shirts and ponytails. They were really skinny.

The girls were either spies or drug dealers. I had been working with them. But now I had just finished telling them I could no longer work with them. I was standing in the bathroom with one of the girls, right after I'd told her I was quitting. The girl was kneeling down, like she was tying her shoes or something, and I was petting her pale brown hair.

We now all stood out in the main room. A big window let in a lot of daylight. We were on a high floor in the hotel. The main room almost looked like the living room of a long-lived-in apartment: it even had a really lovely book collection along the left wall.

The girls' father was in the room. He was a kind of heavyset, rough-faced man with a dark olive complexion and full, but wiry, salt and pepper hair. He wore a tweed jacket, button up shirt, and nice slacks of a kind of heavy fabric.

The girls told their father that I could no longer work with them. I was afraid to hear the father's reaction. I thought the father would get angry and kill me. I was about to tell the father that I didn't exactly mean I couldn't work with the girls, that I was only thinking that maybe I should try to do something else.

Dream #3

I was in a big hotel suite. I was with the cast of The Chronic Rift, an old pop culture review show on New York City cable access in the 1990s. The cast was all sat out in their usual forum style in the main room of the suite. I had just walked from another room, like the kitchen or bathroom, into the main room.

The show may just now have been ending. There were now a couple of pop culture industry guests sitting out with the cast. The cast and the guests were talking back and forth about some element of science fiction writing.

One of the guests may have been tall, pale, and young-looking, even though I had a feeling he was older and far more experienced than I. The man wore a yellow t-shirt and a white cap, like Fred Lebow's old running cap. The man knew I should be interested in the topic everybody was discussing. But I wasn't contributing to the discussion at all. This annoyed the man, like he thought I was simply being lazy.

I was now getting the feeling that it was too late for me to contribute to the discussion: everybody seemed to be getting ready to get up and leave. But for some reason I did say something. It was really hard for me to speak, and whatever I said came out kind of confused.

The tall guest and the other guest stayed seated in order to answer my question. I think they were disappointed at my question: they may have expected a more complex question from me. But I think they took the time to answer my question in the hope that their answer would lead me to ask a more complex question. It was like I was somehow known for asking really penetrating questions.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

darth raven; pop music changed my life; empty/museum/shop

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

An enormous room, almost completely dark, possibly with footbridges spanning over endless pits. Two characters walked into view in the distance, fighting with light sabers. I started to have some understanding of the fighters' relationship, as if I were watching a movie, like Star Wars. The two fighters now exited.

Two more fighters entered, this pair much closer to my view than the first pair. One of the fighters was Darth Vader. The other fighter may also have looked like Darth Vader, although he was apparently good. The fighters' light sabers were very vivid, possibly also twice as long as normal light sabers.

The view shifted. There was now a man on a bed. I may have been the man. The bed was unbelievably tall, like it was made of mattresses stacked up all the way from the bottom of the enormous (endless) pit. (The bed kind of reminds me of the bed from the story of "The Princess and the Pea.")

The man knew that there was some kind of evil taking over some situation. The man had to destroy this evil. But the way the man had to destroy the evil was by taking it entirely into himself and then burning it while he lay on the bed. The man probably understood that that meant he himself would be burned to death.

The flames began to consume the bed and the man's body. But as the flames grew, another voice came from somewhere, saying that not all of the stuff that man had taken into himself needed to be consumed. Little bits and pieces of things, the voice said, could be allowed to survive. As the voice said this, little bits and pieces of things, like specks of dirt or dust, began to hop away from the man's body and off the bed.

Either I or the man (unless I was the man) knew that this was wrong. The specks of things that had escaped needed to be recollected and held onto the bed. I believe this was done. It now became very important for the burning process to take place immediately.

The man lay down in the bed. His (or my) view may have begun floating over his body. The flames very quickly consumed the man and the bed. There was some new realization about the man -- like he had been evil but had somehow allowed the evil to be consumed because he was good deep down, or like his consumption in the fires had actually made him evil for a brief time before he died, or something.

Something about this evil character, though, caused the man to change into a raven. The raven was not evil. The raven itself may also have been consumed in the fires. But now it rose, reborn, from the flames, and flew away into the darkness.

Dream #2

I was somewhere like a skate park. There were a group of guys hanging out, using a small plateau of skate ramps as seats. The guys were mostly white, kind of heavyset, dressed in hooded sweatshirts, and with thin but scraggly beards. They spoke with a bit of an affected accent, like they were trying to sound tough and thuggish. But they were actually talking about how some person, maybe a Korean rap star, had changed their lives and made their thinking more positive.

I had been standing somewhere, maybe at the top of a staircase, about ten meters away from these men. As they were speaking, I jumped down the steps. Partly in an attempt, I believe, to impress these young men, I began gliding through the different concrete levels of the skate park. I glided down a regular staircase, then down a staircase with wide steps. I then passed the young men along some level stretch of concrete. Then I actually flew up and over a series of steps, floating down over another series of steps, and heading down into some kind of concrete overhang or small cave.

Landing in the cave, I reflected on everything I'd just done. I realized that I'd flown unintentionally, unconsciously. I thought I should go back and try to fly again, but this time purposely, so I could control the direction of my flight and impress the young men with my movements.

But I somehow got distracted. There were two young men in the cave, half-sitting and half-laying, with their backs propped up against the walls of the cave and their legs stretched out. The young men were speaking about some pop artist. They may have been passing compact discs back and forth with each other. Then one of the young men decided he needed to leave. He may actually have been leaving so he himself could go record an album, or he may have been leaving because he needed to go to some emotional support group, like a group of young men whose lives had been changed for the better by pop music.

The other young man and I were left alone in the cave. I kind of felt awkward around the young man, since he and I really didn't have the same taste or style. But I pulled a compact disc out and showed it to the young man. The CD cover looked like the cover for Cream's Disraeli Gears album, but with chunkier and more cartoony line drawings. The CD was actually by the Korean pop artist G-Dragon.

I tried to explain to the young man how I thought people were giving the K-pop artist Psy too much attention, while someone like G-Dragon definitely deserved a lot more exposure. But I also said that I wasn't trying to insult Psy or the young men's tastes in music, since, apparently, they both liked Psy a lot. As I said this, my view closed in tightly on the CD cover. The artwork lost a lot of its brightness and took on dirtyish, watercolor-like blues, yellows, and reds.

I was now standing in a department store, probably somewhere in the women's clothing section. Three or four young women stood near me. The women were all really pretty, maybe Asian, and all dressed in really nice, business-like clothes.

I sat something like a huge, black, leather purse down on some display stand in front of me. I opened up the purse and began pulling out high heels. The high heels, I told the women, were compliments of the K-pop artist G-Dragon. The high heels were somehow marked so that they advertised G-Dragon: maybe with something like a pink, white, and black Sex Pistols-esque logo.

I now pulled a silver, leathery purse out of the huge purse. The purse was also marked with the pink, white, and black logos. The purse -- stiffened out into a hard cube -- may have had something inside of it, maybe something like a camera or video camera. I handed this purse in the general direction of the girls, saying this purse was a special prize, for only one of the girls, also compliments of G-Dragon. The girls squealed with excitement. I may have had more "prizes" to hand out.

Dream #3

I was in the Rubin Museum for Himalayan Art in New York City. I was on the second or third floor. I'm not sure whether I saw anything there. It may have been like the exhibit space was completely empty, with the walls, floor areas, and pedestals, all barren. I may have gotten bored or restless in such a space. So I jumped through the center of the stairwell, landing all the way down in the basement of the museum.

I sat on some bench-like ledge and looked out at the basement. I thought that I'd probably leave the museum soon: there had really been nothing here for me to see. But, I thought, I had paid for a membership to this place, hadn't I? If I was going to pay for a membership to a museum, I thought, I should at least frequent the museum and spend a decent amount of time in the museum when I visited. I told myself I would do my best to stay for two or three hours. That, I knew, was perfectly possible, given the hours that the museum was open.

I now walked up a series of steps, up to the second or third floor of the museum. The exhibit space was just like a huge gift shop. But the gift shop mostly sold clothes, like it was a department store.

As I reached the top of the steps, I encountered a tight cluster of people. There were two attractive women dressed in business blouses and skirts. A female attendant was helping the women pick out clothes. With the two women were two little girls in cute, old-fashioned dresses. I was only as tall as the little girls. I didn't seem to be aware of this fact during the dream. I thought of the little girls as much younger and smaller than I.

The attendant was talking about the clothing, which was all normal, Western-style clothing, as if it possessed different attributes one might speak of when speaking of Buddhist or Hindu art. The attendant was making these normal clothes sound as if they might provide the wearer with some kind of spiritual fulfillment.

As the attendant made her sales pitch to the women, I paid attention to the little girls. I had the idea that the little girls were sexually attracted to me. But the little girls actually seemed to be either really shy or really afraid of me. They kept hiding behind the legs of the women and the attendant. Occasionally the little girls would peek their heads out from behind the legs. They may have been checking to see whether I was gone. But I told myself they were stealing little glances at me because they were attracted to me.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

hindi golf cart; subway crash; karaoke; bottom-revealing dresses; government statistics

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a cafe, sitting by myself at a small table. The cafe was dim, but it felt cozy. It probably had red and green Christmas lights strung along the ceiling. The cafe seemed to be pretty active, even though I didn't really see a lot of people.

At a small table in front of me and off to my right sat my old best friend R and a little boy. The little boy was pale, but his skin had a slight olive tint to it. The boy had pale red-brown hair and a kind of chubby face. He may have been wearing a white button-up shirt and khaki slacks.

The boy was speaking with R. R listened and responded in a very comfortable, casual way. Something, though, seemed odd about the conversation. It then occurred to me -- R and the boy were speaking in Hindi! I was surprised that R had learned Hindi so fluently. I was also a little bit jealous. I noticed that R had a big binder with him. I wondered if he weren't helping the boy out with some kind of project that involved the binder.

Somehow I knew that to learn more about how or why R learned Hindi, I needed to go speak with a woman  with whom R was working. But this woman had just walked out of the cafe and was about to drive away.

I ran outside to catch up with the woman. "Outside" seemed a little bit like a sound stage. The "sky" was just a huge, greyish screen. The woman's car was something like a motorized golf cart decorated with all kinds of metallic tinsel and garlands in red, green, and possibly other bright colors. There were also paper decorations all over the golf cart, like paper cut-outs with hand-drawn designs like concentric stars and so forth.

The woman sat in the front seat. A handsome, Southeast Asian man sat in the backseat. I hopped up on the cart in between the two and quickly asked the woman if my friend R had really learned Hindi. The woman said that R had indeed learned Hindi. As the woman continued speaking with me, I began picking at some red foam covering on one of the poles holding up the roof of the golf cart. The man in the backseat grabbed my hand and stopped me from picking at the pole.

The woman began driving away, even as I was still standing on the side of the golf cart. We were now driving along outside (or at least some place that was more like the outdoors and less like a sound stage). We were driving through a small corridor of road between two walls of tall, crumbling-brick buildings. The roads were packed, more with people than with vehicles.

The woman continued. She said it was necessary for R to learn Hindi, as he was going to travel to India with her. As the woman said this, the man, who was now older, less attractive, fatter-faced, and with a huge, Mario-esque mustache, was attempting to roll a cigarette. But he dropped the half-rolled cigarette on the floor of the golf cart. He cursed loudly, trying to get my and the woman's attention.

I felt a little bad for not giving the man my attention. I felt, now, like he was actually one of the clients this woman was going to see in India. If we didn't pay attention, I thought, it would be like we weren't valuing his business. I noticed now that the man had bent over to pick up his cigarette. The contents were intact on the paper. But now, instead of picking up the cigarette, the man sprinkled some white stuff, like cocaine mixed with powdered sugar, on top of the tobacco.

The woman continued. She said that if you go to India, you absolutely have to speak Hindi. If you walk around, speaking only English, and not understanding when people speak Hindi, people will just think you're an idiot.

Dream #2

I was in a subway train, sitting in a seat perpendicular to a wall, so that my left side faced a window. The space outside suddenly became dark, like everything had faded into blackness. Suddenly I felt a drop, like the ground had fallen out beneath the subway tracks.

I now saw the subway train falling through the ground. The train was now falling through the ceiling and toward the floor of another subterranean space. We had to fall at least twenty meters. But we were falling, it seemed, in slow motion. I braced myself. I knew once we hit the ground, we'd crash hard.

My vision itself faded to almost complete darkness. We crashed to the ground. The subway train shook heavily. But then it was over. I didn't seem to be hurt or even very affected, other than being a little shaken up. I was now standing outside the subway train, in the huge enclosed space.

The space seemed, at first, like an enormous warehouse, or like a long stretch of road directly underneath a long stretch of highway overpass or elevated train lines. It may even have seemed like there was light off in the distance. The floor of the place seemed to be polished concrete.

But when I turned around and walked away from the subway wreckage, I was in an actual subway tunnel, walking along subway tracks. Occasional fluorescent lights lit the dim, grimy passageways with a greenish-white glow. The subway tunnel snaked along, constantly twisting and turning.

There were now two young, Southeast Asian men walking in front of me. The men were both short and very skinny, with dark-copper complexions. They had well-groomed hair, kind of long and sweeping on the bangs. They both wore nice shirts and slacks. One man wore a purple shirt. The other probably wore a white shirt.

We eventually found a door that led to a narrow hallway like a hallway full of offices or small shops. The hallway twisted and turned, just like the subway tunnel had done. The hallway had white tiles on the floor. The walls were a mixture of white tile and glass, allowing ample views into each office or shop. Red, green, and blue lights illuminated the floors and walls of the hallway.

The young men and I were just looking for a door that would lead us to some passageway leading up and out of the subway. We knew that this area was actually a kind of operations office area for the subway -- even though the hallway also felt like a mall or small shopping plaza of some kind. I believe people who didn't work for the subway system weren't allowed to be down here. The area was kind of top secret. So we were just trying to get through and out of the area as quickly as possible.

Occasionally we'd see some nicely dressed young man or woman, who we knew was one of the subway workers. We'd have to hide from this person. The young men thought that if one of the workers saw us, they'd get us in trouble or trap us down here. I personally thought that maybe one of the workers could help us find the right way out of the hallway.

Eventually we may have found a door that led out of the hallway.

Dream #3

I was at a karaoke bar, sitting at the bar. The bar was wide and long, twisting off to my left and right. The rest of the bar was enormous as well, possibly full of people, even though I didn't seem to be really aware of the other people around me. The walls seemed really tall and dark, almost fading into blackness, like on a sound stage. There may have been a couple tiers of seating areas, and the seats may have been big, round booths.

Some karaoke event was just now wrapping up. I don't think I had really been interested in it. The karaoke had all been in English, and it had all been stuff like contemporary Country music, which I didn't care for very much. I was wondering if we would be given any chance to sing some Japanese karaoke.

This whole time, a man in maybe his late twenties or early thirties sat about two stools off to my right. We never spoke, but I was, for some reason, terribly self-conscious around the guy. He was tall and a tiny bit overweight, like he'd let his muscle recently fade to flab. He had a well-trimmed beard and long, long blonde-brown hair that seemed to be on the verge of greying. He wore a white t-shirt.

Now the karaoke event was over. Some regular music was playing on the speakers. There may also have been a huge video screen somewhere playing videos along with the song. The woman behind the bar now threw out a few books onto the bar counter.

I picked up one of the books. It was a thin book, like a thin paperback novel. The cover had some black and white, manga-like line-drawing of a young man. Behind the young man was a kind of psychedelic series of orange, green, and pink stripes.

The title of the book was something like "Comic Karaoke" or "Anime Karaoke." I knew this meant that karaoke was now going to be opened up to Japanese songs. But the only Japanese songs that were available were the ones in this book -- which only included songs that were featured in anime. This was kind of disappointing to me. There were plenty of songs I wanted to sing that I knew weren't in anime. And I really didn't know anime well enough to know which of the songs I knew were actually in an anime.

Nevertheless, I flipped through the pages of the book, kind of holding the book at a strange, high angle over my head, trying to see what songs I might know. The song titles and band names were all in Japanese, which made things a little difficult for me, as my knowledge of Japanese writing is only so-so.

As I flipped through the book, I could feel that people were ready for the next karaoke session to start. But nobody seemed to be singing. I felt like I was obliged to sing. It even seemed like the girl behind the bar and the man sitting beside me were waiting for me to sing.

Even worse, I knew that if I didn't start singing something soon, somebody would go back up and start singing a contemporary Country song. That would start off this session on a bad trend of contemporary Country songs, which I didn't want to have to deal with all over again.

Dream #4

I was in a classroom, possibly at a high school, but most likely at a university. I may have walked into the classroom, as if I were going to take a test, like a final examination, or give some big presentation.

I was walking toward one of the desks in the second or third row, while other students were filing into their desks around me. Some of these kids were carrying huge, clunky technology projects with them. Other kids seemed to be gossiping with each other. I was kind of afraid of the gossiping kids, like I was nervous that they'd start making fun of me.

But now I was standing at the front of the class, not in the center of the room, but at the right side of the room, near the doorway, as students were still filing in. The teacher, a kind of tall, young man with an olive complexion, a bluish shadow of stubble around his cheeks, round, nerdy, eyeglasses, and a wavy, clunky, nerdy haircut, stood before me.

There seemed to be piles of women's clothes all around me. The young teacher was having me try on all these women's clothes, right in front of everybody. At times, while I tried on these clothes, I seemed to be myself, as a boy. At other times, I seemed to be an Asian girl, really pretty, with a nice body, nice, long, soft, brown hair in a kind of spiky-flouncy ponytail, and a nice, round bottom. At other times I may have been a mixture of myself and this Asian girl. (I think I really enjoyed the feeling of having the girl's round bottom!)

The two outfits I remember were a beige, dress-like outfit and a yellow, dress-like outfit. Both outfits were all lace, and they clung tightly to my body. I seemed to be wearing a g-string under the outfit. The g-string may possibly have been connected to the outfit. I thought of these outfits as dresses. But they were so see-through and form-fitting, that I now think they must have been lingerie.

Even though I enjoyed wearing the women's clothes, I was really afraid to have everybody in the classroom see me in these outfits -- especially with my ass showing so plainly through a g-string and lace! I knew I needed to change my clothes. But I didn't know where my boy clothes were. I thought I must have left them in some other room.

I was now walking through the hallway, toward some other room where I thought my boy clothes were. I was dressed in the yellow lace outfit. I don't know whether I was myself or the girl. But I was really afraid of everybody looking at me. I was especially afraid of everybody seeing my ass so plainly through this lingerie. I knew once people saw me this way, they'd always have this as a part of my identity in their minds. I didn't know if I wanted that. But I'm pretty sure I also still liked wearing the clothes.

Dream #5

I was sitting at a desk in an office. I sat in one office room that joined to another office room instead of opening out into a larger office space. Behind me stood one of my old bosses, DO, and one of our teammates, MW.

Both DO and MW thought that some online government statistical database was no longer putting out new data releases. But I knew the agency was still releasing data. The data was just being released through another channel. I accessed the data all the time.

I showed DO and MW the correct way to navigate to the data, and even how to locate the specific data they might be looking for. There was a blank white screen with a few brownish-colored links and some black type below the links saying what each link was. I clicked on one of the links.

DO asked me if I could just go ahead and print out the data for him. I printed out the data. MW walked to a printer that stood on a folding table behind me. As MW did this, DO began to explain something to me about this data and the reason for its periodical releases. Something about what DO was explaining to me was very new and informative. Something else about it was so well known to me that I felt like DO must really think, if he thought I didn't know it, that I was really stupid.

As DO began explaining this stuff to me, his face began shifting into the face of another teammate of ours, MD. As DO's face shifted into MD's face, DO's speech became more and more condescending and, really, banal. I had to struggle more and more to keep up an interested expression.

Eventually I may have come to understand that everything I had just been a part of had been a test. If I could successfully produce this data for DO and MW and understand everything DO was saying, DO and MW would give me a position on their new team. And apparently I had made it through the test. I was now officially working on the team.

Friday, October 19, 2012

little dog bites; punk club and fast food; guitar chords

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

It was daytime. I was with my brother in some outdoor area like a stone plaza dotted with small garden planters. A lot of the planters had nothing growing, or very little, growing in them. My brother crouched in front of a planter a few meters away from me. I crouched in front of one of the planters that had only a few flowers growing in it.

I was playing with a few small dogs. There were two or three dogs on my left and one dog on my right. I was letting the dogs wrestle around with my hands. Then the dogs started biting my hands. I didn't mind it very much. They seemed to be biting me as hard as they could, but it wasn't really hurting me at all.

My brother told me I shouldn't let the dogs bite me like that. He said the situation could get out of control, and I could end up getting hurt. I didn't listen to my brother. I seemed to be too happy seeing the dogs having fun to want to think about caution. Another two small dogs ran up to me. They looked like puppies rather than full grown dogs. They were all white, except for a patch around one of their eyes and one of their ears, which were a brilliant blue.

The dog on my right, a poodle-like dog, now began biting me really hard. I could tell I was just keeping my skin from being broken and my fingers from being bitten all the way through. But I couldn't hold back for long. I was trying to pull my finger out of the dog's mouth. But the dog had its teeth clamped down so hard on my fingers that I couldn't even move them.

I grabbed the dog's muzzle with two hands (I'm not really sure how that's possible...) and began prying the dog's mouth open. It was really hard, and I was afraid that the dog would find new strength and snap back down on my fingers, chomping them right off. But now I noticed that the dog actually hadn't had any of my fingers in its mouth. I had actually had my fingers curled around the dog's muzzle, so that it only looked like I'd had my fingers in the dog's mouth (???).

The scene shifted a bit. I was now sitting at the edge of the garden plaza, in some kind of porch-like area that also almost felt like horse stables made out of stone instead of wood. My brother and I were sitting close together, and there were small dogs playing all around us.

A woman, maybe in her late twenties, stood near us. She was like our guardian or supervisor. It was almost like, even though my brother and I were probably our current age, we were also kids. My brother had done something wrong, possibly having injured or killed one of the dogs.

The woman wasn't acting angry toward my brother. She may have been afraid to show her anger. She may have felt like my brother was dangerous, so that showing anger toward my brother might lead my brother to react toward the woman with violence. But the woman was planning to eliminate my brother from this situation somehow, or at least to limit his action in the situation, so that the woman would feel like my brother was less of a threat.

I knew my brother hadn't purposely done anything wrong. He may actually not have done anything wrong at all. I was trying to comfort my brother. At this point a dog, either the dog the woman thought my brother had injured or killed, or a dog very like that dog, came running up to us and playing around with us and the rest of the dogs. I thought that I should probably point this out to the woman, to vindicate my brother.

Dream #2

I was sitting on the floor at the front end of a punk rock club. My brother-in-law sat near me, leaning up against a wall. He looked weird. He had olive colored skin, instead of his usual golden-tan skin, and he had really shaggy, black-brown hair. He was also kind of leaning over to the left a lot of the time, so that his head was almost parallel to the ground. And he may have been sitting huddled under some beige or tan blanket.

The area my brother-in-law and I sat in was lit with a bright, but dingy, incandescent light. The walls were dirty. They looked almost like old stucco. The real activity of the club was behind us. There was a dark area full of people. Some kind of performance, either music or stand-up comedy, was also going on. I felt like my brother-in-law and I were being excluded from the activity in the club.

My brother-in-law may have been telling me how he felt excluded as well. As he spoke, my vision wandered off to my left, to a part of wall near the entrance to the club. There was a marker drawing along the wall, drawn perpendicular to the floor, of a few cartoony figures who represented either famous band members or famous club patrons from the 1970s.

My brother-in-law told me that in the 1970s this place had a real reputation for being a hardcore club for punks. People could come in here and be weird and wild and innovative. But nowadays the club was really a punk club in name only. The music was never very heavy. Sometimes they even did stand-up comedy. And the clientele were all very mild. If anybody -- such as my brother-in-law or myself -- looked like they might be wild, like people in the 1970s were, they were immediately shunned.

My brother-in-law seemed to be taking this exclusion harder than I was. I tried to console him. I said maybe we should go somewhere else. There still were, I said, places where wild people hung out. We just had to wander around and find them.

We were now outside in the dark night. The streets were lit only by very dim, orange streetlamps. I was separated from my brother-in-law by at least a few meters. I may also have been floating through the air, probably bodiless.

We went through a block full of small, kind of old-style shops. We went past some fast food restaurant. It was like an old-style burger joint. The building had a huge red roof that sloped almost all the way to the ground.

In front of the building were rows and rows of tables like picnic tables. The tables all seemed to be full of people. The people all scared me a little. They seemed like drug addicts, gangsters, and troublemakers. But I felt like this was the place where my brother-in-law and I should hang out. So I decided to act calm and friendly toward everybody here. I told my brother-in-law that this was a really cool place.

I now remembered another cool thing about this place. Late at night, the owner of this hamburger stand, a middle-aged man of Southeast Asian descent, would turn the front of the inside of the building into a kind of mini-bazaar. There he would sell all kinds of Southeast Asian merchandise. Other Southeast Asian people in the community would come to the hamburger stand and buy the merchandise. I told my brother-in-law that this was really cool, and that we should check it out.

I was now walking around, probably without my brother-in-law, inside the building. The front of the building now felt like it was just a frame-booth with sheets or tarps for ceilings and walls. It was very spacious. It was empty of people, almost like it was shut down -- or incredibly unpopular!

There were a lot of tables, all piled up with Southeast Asian merchandise. Each table bore a different kind of merchandise. It was even darker in the "building," though, than it was outside. It was hard for me to see the merchandise.

I walked around a corner to my left, into a kind of back area of the "bazaar" that few people knew about. In this back area was a table with a bunch of religious books. Even in the dark I could see that all of the books had colorful, intricate designs on their covers. The books seemed to be about a religion like Hinduism or maybe Buddhism.

But suddenly I had a flash of apprehension. I had a feeling that the man who owned this store was really a violent person. I had a feeling that this whole bazaar was a front for some kind of violent activity the man was staging. I had a feeling that if the man found me in here, I'd become a target for whatever kind of violent activity he was planning. The fact that I was looking at the religious books seemed like it could put me into even more trouble with the man.

I felt like the man could be just around the corner, waiting to do something like stab me. So I walked back around the corner, just to make sure the man wasn't there. The front area was still empty. I felt a little more secure. I turned and walked back toward the religious books, still a little afraid, though, that the man might come attack me.

Dream #3

I was in a bedroom with my brother. My brother sat on the bottom bunk of a bunk bed. I stood very close to my brother, playing a guitar, probably an acoustic guitar. I was playing a song I thought was an original song, or even a song I was making up right then and there.

I really enjoyed the song I was playing. But at some point I lost track of the song. It was either like I had forgotten what chord progression I was using or like I had lost track of where I was in the song altogether. For a moment I was strumming blindly along, trying to find the right sounds for the song, while also hoping that the "wrong" sounds I was currently making weren't too horribly wrong.

Now my brother pulled out a sheet of notebook paper. He held it on his lap, but at a kind of odd angle, so I had to focus really hard to make out what was written on the paper. I saw a series of chords written down, kind of in verse and chorus form, like a series of blocks or grids going down the page.

I remember G and C being one combination, and possibly G and D and G and F. But I can't remember the order of these progressions. There may also have been a sharp somewhere, maybe on the F. I began playing as well as I could according to the chord progressions on the page. I may have been pretty satisfied with the music, like I was nearly, but not quite, playing what I'd been playing before. I may also now have begun singing along to the tune.