Good morning, everybody.
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.
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.
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.
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.