Dream 1
I was in some crowded, frenetic place like the lobby of an office building. It was long and narrow, with kind of thin carpet. One wall was all windows. The light outside was dim blue, as if it were early morning or late evening.
In front of the other wall was something like a service counter, like a ticket counter or even a fast food counter, except that it was probably really low, like maybe 30 cm below waist height. People were crowded all around this counter, in front and in back. We were all workers, and we were all in some huge panic.
I may have been watching a TV screen or a set of TV screens that hung from the ceiling. They were like news screens, but they were also like fast food menu screens. The news may have announced some terrible thing that had happened, maybe in Israel. It was having repercussions all around the world. And things were getting really bad where we were.
It had gotten so bad at this point that we were being asked to stay in our buildings. It was like all business operations, even people being able to get food, were being shut down outside. Nobody knew how long we'd have to stay in here.
But paycheck day was today. And while everybody was worried about what was happening in the world, they were really frantic right now because they wanted their paychecks. Something had happened in our business. And the paychecks weren't being given out in their normal way. Instead, a sort of subgroup of management had to hand out the checks manually.
Everybody was crowded around the counters. Nobody wanted to wait in line or create any orderly system for getting their checks. Everybody wanted their check first. But somehow the managers got everybody's checks handed out. And soon the huge crowd dispersed.
But I still hadn't gotten my check. I was wondering what I should do about this. I was trying to figure out how much it would matter if I didn't get a paycheck. The world was either ending or on pause outside. So did I really even need money?
But I also knew that my rent was due. If I didn't have this particular paycheck, I wouldn't be able to pay my rent. I also knew that this was either my last or my second to last paycheck from this company. So I was going to need all the money I could get from the company.
I pondered this as I stood at the top of a stairway leading back down to the lobby. I may have figured I'd head out for the evening and bring up the topic at work the next day.
But one of the managers (a man or a woman or simultaneously a man and a woman?) was now sitting a few steps down on the stairway. The manager stopped me and said they had my check. The manager filed through a stack of papers, maybe saying something about how my check had accidentally gotten lost in the shuffle. Then the manager handed me my check.
I may have looked at the check. I saw that it wasn't enough money. I handed it back to the manager. The manager acknowledged the problem, shuffled through the papers, and handed me another check. The manager may then have said that another check, my final check, was coming, but that that was still on its way.
I looked at this new check. Some of the numbers around it were really confusing. It looked like my pay was correct -- maybe something like $2,600 or $2,500, or maybe $6,200. But there was a bunch of other stuff on the check. Something was going on with some $16,000 sum. I couldn't quite understand it. It looked like maybe that money had been added to my pay, then subtracted immediately. But it also looked like it had been added to my pay and kept there.
I thought I should tell the manager about this. Too much had been added to my pay. I didn't want to be penalized for getting too much money. But I also couldn't tell whether all that pay had been taken back already. I figured I'd really only know once I took my check to the bank to get cashed. And I figured I'd made enough trouble for the manager today. I didn't need to raise any more issues. So I just figured I'd leave things alone.
Dream 2
Something may have happened at first where there was some sort of action, maybe involving something on an airplane. The action may have finished, and then the scene may have replayed. The drama may have resolved itself.
I may now have considered my age. I thought to myself that I looked young for my age. I wondered how I would look when I was seventy years old. I thought to myself that I needed to plan out the things I'd do over the next decades.
In my forties, maybe I would do a lot of the stuff I should have done in my twenties. In my fifties, I'd probably look and act like I should have done in my thirties. By the time I was seventy, I'd probably act like a fifty-year-old. But the big thing, I told myself, was that I needed to make sure I was never fooling myself, or pulling the wool over my eyes. I didn't want to go through some midlife crisis and pretend I was a teenager again. And I didn't want to be seventy and think I was twenty.
At this point, I may have been my seventy-year-old self, walking through some small lobby, maybe like an elevator bank or a small, octagonal foyer, and then in through a small door, maybe a regular door or an elevator door. I had a head of bright white hair, and I wore a white polo shirt.
I was now my regular age (or maybe much younger) again. I sat on a couch in a busy room. My brother, or maybe my oldest nephew, sat to my left. There may have been a lot of kids and adults romping and playing around. The room may have been like a daycare room.
My brother/nephew and I were waiting here to be taken home. It was like we had been on some sort of military mission that was now accomplished and we were being shipped back home. But it was also like we'd been on some tourist experience, partly sight-seeing, partly themed adventure, and were now waiting for some sort of ride back home.
My brother/nephew had been eating something with chopsticks. He was now using the used chopsticks as drumsticks to play air drums. I found that sort of annoying but didn't say anything. But my brother/nephew, seeing he wasn't getting a reaction from me, started hitting the chopsticks against my shoulder.
I was a little annoyed, but I didn't want to show it. Instead, I giggled at my brother/nephew and said something about how he should get a set of the old Hit Stix toys, as he'd be really good with them.
My brother/nephew didn't respond to me. Instead he put the chopsticks down right by my left leg. He then picked up another set of used chopsticks and began playing the drums on my left shoulder again. At some point he may actually have had a set of Hit Stix, which he was playing in the air, of to his left, kind of twisting his body so he was playing them so I couldn't see them, while the speaker for the toy was kind of pointed at me.
Dream 3
I had come from some other situation, possibly involving my family, with my mom possibly playing a big role in whatever had happened.
I was now walking into some room with one of my close Denver acquaintances, AV, a person currently running for political office. The room was big, but also kind of enclosed-feeling. The room had a lot of bookshelves. But it wasn't just a library. There were some couches and furniture. The place had a sort of 1970s modern feel to it -- a lot of leather and wood and cold greys -- no earth tones, etc.
AV and I had been talking. I had probably been trying to justify myself to AV in some way -- to prove I was smart or motivated, or not a crook, or something. But I had also been doing this all in an innocent-sounding way, like I hadn't been suspecting at all that I'd needed to justify myself to AV and I was just making small talk with him like I'd make with anybody.
But I kind of stopped speaking when I saw a new stack of books on some table on the far end of the couches AV and I were going to sit at. The table the new books sat on was already piled with books. This new stack made the pile seem enormous and unwieldy.
There were probably four books in the new stack. The books were gigantic -- maybe 30 centimeters tall, 20 centimeters wide, and 6 centimeters thick. And each book was encased in some solid, cardboard box with a red and white marble design pasted onto it.
I groaned at the sight of so many heavy, new books in my collection. I went to the books. I opened one of the boxes and looked at the book. The book had a 1990s-style dust jacket -- red, with gold lettering, and probably a nice, color reproduction of some medieval painting under the gold lettering.
I saw that the book was about architecture. With relief I said to AV, "Oh... these books are my mom's. They must just have come to her because of the new architecture class she's taking."
I was relieved that I didn't have to worry about these books. And I couldn't wait to unload them on my mom. But I was also very intrigued by them. And I couldn't help but flip through the pages of the book I held as I sat down on the couch to start my conversation with AV.
AV said, "Or... maybe these books are meant for you. Don't try to sell yourself short. And don't be modest. If you're that interested in architecture, that's something you should be proud of."
I said, "Oh, no, no. These books really are for my mom. She's in school. She's studying. She has some new course on architecture she's taking. It's from the time period when these books were originally written."
I looked at the text of the book. The writing was really scrawly. I couldn't understand any of it. It was all in columns, too. So there was so much text packed onto one page. And beneath each black line of text was a line of red, as well. The red may also have been text. Or it may have been red dots of some kind, or some kind of code or symbolism.
Somehow I must have gotten the gist of whatever I was reading. I understood that I was looking at a lot of information. This single page was packed with a ton of information. I couldn't imagine getting through one of these books, let alone four! And it was even more staggering to imagine that these four books were just one requirement for just one class. That was just an unbelievable amount of work to get through!
But it was also amazing to me that whoever had written this book, four hundred years ago, had actually written so much. I told AV, "This book only deals with a small time period. And yet the person had so much to write about that time period. The person must have been so intelligent and disciplined."
Dream 4
An older woman who may have looked like Julia Child, except maybe a bit more regal or refined, was laughing at me. I'd somehow indicated my sexual attraction to her or to some woman her age or some woman around my age or some little girl or little boy. But I don't think I'd meant to indicate my attraction. And I hadn't said that I had been attracted. Nevertheless, the woman took it as given that I was attracted to this person.
The woman thought it was cute that I was attracted. But she also made it clear that I would never be good enough for the person I was attracted to. And that's why she found the whole situation funny.
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