Good morning, everybody.
I was sitting outside a building with a young, attractive woman with olive skin and long, brown hair. The area we sat in was kind of narrow and run down. The woman was something like a doctor or a psychologist. She had spoken with me a bit about some problems I had. These problems were highlighted by certain things I'd said to her.
Then we turned to a notebook full of drawings I'd made. These were all line drawings of sexual situations, many involving girls. The woman said that these drawings definitely indicated that I had problems I needed to deal with.
A third of the way through, the notebook became blank. The woman and I kept flipping through the blank pages. I was relieved that there were no other drawings that would make the woman think I was crazy. But toward the end of the notebook the drawings came back. And they were even more intensely sexual. The men in the drawings had extremely huge penises. I had a feeling I'd really be in trouble for these drawings.
I was in "my house," which was a nice, quaint, little suburban house. It was early in the evening. My house was lit with bright, pale incandescent light. I had some music turned on and I was dancing to it. I got so into the music that I danced out of my house and into the street. It may have seemed to me at this point that my whole house was floored with linoleum, like the floor of a kitchen. It may also have seemed to me that I was a woman with curlers in my hair -- even though I quickly became myself again.
I continued dancing in the middle of the street. The sky was colored red and purple, but it also had a dim, glassy, watery tinge of yellow to it. All down the block were houses like mine, packed pretty closely together.
I had the idea that this was some famous road in Hollywood, and that a lot of movie stars lived here. I couldn't figure out why movie stars would live in such small houses. But I came up with some justification for that. I also couldn't figure out why I was living among all these movie stars. But I wasn't going to worry about that. I was just going to keep dancing. If one of the movie stars saw me dancing, she might think I was a good enough performer to be put in a movie.
So I kept dancing. At one point, while I was dancing, I twisted my right leg around my left leg. I somehow got my legs jammed in that position. I couldn't untwist my right leg! I got a little panicked. But then I managed to untwist my leg. I worried for a little while whether people would think I was an incompetent dancer. But now I seemed to be dancing pretty well. But now I began to worry that maybe my dancing was really monotonous, so that people would think I wasn't a creative enough dancer to use in a movie.
All this time, to my right, there was some huge, metallic structure, like a military tank.
I was in a parking lot with my mom. The parking lot was kind of small. It was fenced off from the road. It may have served only one small building. My mom had parked in the last open space in the lot.
Now a woman who looked like Amy Poehler walked up to us. She said she had her car a block or so away, but that she wanted to park her car in here. It was like she was expecting my mom to move her car. But my mom wasn't going to move her car.
I felt bad at first, when I thought of how the woman would have to be parked at a distance from this place. But then I remembered that my mom was sick, and that she needed the space she parked in, while the woman was probably healthy enough to walk.
I told the woman that there was another parking lot for this building. I told her it was on 72nd and XXXXX. That was a few blocks away from here, I knew. It was down a long, tree-lined road, kind of nestled into a park-like area.
But, as a compromise, I told the woman that I would walk with her to her car and help her find the lot so she could park her car there. Then I'd walk back with the woman. I kind of felt inconvenienced. I knew this was going way out of my way. But I hoped it would appease the woman.
I was flying over some desert hills. I black crow flew down before me. But I think I thought the crow was an eagle. The crow/eagle flew to and fro in front of me. I had the idea that the crow wanted to be my friend. I held out my right hand to the crow, pointing my index finger out gently. The crow gently bit my index finger, then turned his head away from me, so that my finger brushed his head, like he was making me pet him.
I began descending. I may have been imagining telling two kind of overweight Mexican men about what I'd experienced. I'd thought I'd seen an eagle. But what kind of eagle was as small as a crow? How could such a small eagle impress the two men.
But now, as I was descending, the eagle/crow, descending with me, began to grow and grow. It soon transformed into an eagle.