Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was in a bedroom with my brother. I had been laying on a few sheets that lay on the ground. I may have been sleeping. My brother may have been sitting up in a chair.
I rolled over, as if I thought I was going to get up. But as I faced down toward the floor and pushed myself upward, I saw a strange bug, maybe a spider, crawling across the sheet. I was a little afraid of the bug, and I wondered how it had gotten there.
The bug may then have been a ladybug. I was interested in watching the ladybug, though I couldn't actually believe the bug was something as harmless as a ladybug.
I was about to get up out of bed when I saw another bug. This bug was like a flying ant, except a lot longer, maybe an inch long. It also had a little bit of a weird coloration, like the coloration of meat and fat in strips of bacon. I may have been worried that this bug would hurt me. But I may also have been worried that this bug would hurt the ladybug.
Dream #2
I was in a movie theater, watching a movie starring Leonardo diCaprio. The images were all kind of dark, like the characters were in the dark, with just a bit of spotlight thrown on them. There were also undertones of yellow-green, though this possibly may only have been for the ending credits.
The movie was like Catch Me If You Can, except darker. It was about how the Leo character, a crook of some kind, was being pursued by a good detective. The good detective knew the Leo character was good. He wanted to put him on a good path in life, so he could do some really great things.
I knew that the story would end positively, because the person in the film was an actual historical figure. But the film seemed to end with the Leo character having been put in a really compromising position. It was like he had been framed, set up, by the good detective.
It seemed like the Leo character would be able to get out of his trouble. But it also seemed like he'd be bitter against the detective for framing him, and like he'd commit himself even more to a life of crime, rather than going straight.
But now, as the credits were rolling, a series of titles showed, explaining that the Leo character went on to become a leadership figure within the United Nations. There were a few black and white, grainy photos of him that felt like they were from the 1960s. They showed the man, with white hair and glasses, a checked (?) button-up shirt, and khaki slacks, giving what seemed like lectures, one at a podium, and one at a kind of high stage, in front of a long blackboard.
The lights came up in the theater. The theater looked a lot different. Before, the theater had been like a normal theater. I had been about halfway back in the audience. Now the theater was like a lecture hall. The movie screen was high up on the wall. A group of panelists stood by a folding table on the left side of the room. And I was now sitting at the front of the room, near the left side of the room.
I still didn't know how it was possible for the Leo character to have become a leader at the UN, after having been so committed to crime. I figured I'd ask the panelists that question, or that they might even explain things without my having to ask.
I stood up and walked to the table, as if I were now one of the panelists, or as if I were assisting the panelists. The panel presentation had already started. The panelists were all speaking in a joking way. There were probably three panelists, all men.
The panelist to the far left was my old friend R. Even though I'd almost been standing directly in front of him, we hadn't noticed each other. Now we noticed each other. I wished there were a way I could reverse that recognition. I really didn't want to speak with R. But I knew there was no way to avoid it. So I got behind the mic with him and started making jokes.
The Leo character in the film had the first name Joaquin. I kept on joking, pronouncing the name in a stereotypically American incorrect way, like "Joe-uh-kwin," instead of "hwa-keen." But soon I realized that nobody in the room, even R, realized I was joking. They all thought I was mispronouncing the name as a personal assault against his culture.
As I tried to justify myself regarding my joke, the view faded into a steep hill in a suburban neighborhood on a sunny day. I was heading down the hill, either in a car or on foot. At the bottom of the hill, which intersected with an even longer slope, I stopped, about to turn right, as if to head down the longer slope.
I was now talking with someone, maybe my brother. I may at first have been trying to justify the Joaquin joke. But then I was talking about something else altogether. I may have handed my brother something, maybe a piece of rotten wood, like a broken off piece of railroad tie, that was about a foot long.
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