Thursday, June 7, 2018

running on rooftops; little hockey girls

Dream 1

I was walking through a strange area at night with a woman. The area was like an aqueduct, but above the ground, not dug down into it. We may simply have been walking along the "floors" of some U- or L-shaped concrete structures that had been set up on the ground. This structure was in an area crowded with homes.

The woman and I spoke. But then I tried to ask her how to say something in German. I was trying to say "me, too," in German. But I didn't know how to say either word, though I was pretty sure I almost knew how to say "me."

I may have stuttered out some word, like "ich," or "mein," or "mich" a few times. But now the woman pretended like she couldn't understand what I was saying at all. She started speaking German, like she only spoke German and didn't speak any English. Plus she started acting really naive and chirpy, as if to confuse me even more.

I may actually have started trying to speak in other languages, including Spanish. But I really couldn't say a single word in any of those languages. I could only almost say words that I was pretty sure I almost knew.

Eventually I ended this whole game. I knew the woman spoke English. And I knew the only reason she was pretending she couldn't understand me was because I'm Hispanic and she wanted to pretend that I only spoke Spanish, so she couldn't understand me.

I said in English that I was trying to say something about how tall something was. I made a motion toward the concrete wall and said something about how something was so tall.

I then compared my hand and the woman's hand and said something about how tall our hands were. We both had our hands held out in my field of view. I was kind of surprised, because our hands were both kind of short and stubby looking, maybe also a little dirty looking.

As we looked at our hands we passed out of the concrete structure. We were before a kind of dense and cluttered set of thin homes or row houses. I motioned up toward one of the buildings -- a kind of modern looking home with yellow-painted, metal walls, ridged a little bit like a shipping container, which contrasted against a stormy, staticky, purple sky.

I again made some sort of comment about how tall the building was, hoping the woman would finally tell me how to say this phrase in German. I saw my brother (into whom the woman may have transformed?) walking somewhere near the top of the building. He may have been on the roof of the building. Or he may have been on a concrete path on a hill that was so steep that it almost reached the roof of the building.

I decided to follow my brother, maybe by running up the concrete path, or maybe by flying up onto the roof.

I may have run along some roofs like the roof of the modern house. But then we ran along a strange roof. It was like the roof was made up entirely of spires like spires of Japanese temples. We ran up and over these spires, which may all have been shingled with old wooden shingles and fronted with red-painted wood.

We eventually ran toward some proscenium- or shrine-like square-arch structure that signaled the end of the spire section of the roof. As we approached this area, some older, white man, kind of overweight, with a big belly, chased after us. It may now have been me, my brother, and a couple other boys.

The man started asking us what we were doing up on the roof. It felt like he was thinking of calling the police on us. I didn't think he would be right to call the police on us. But I was still afraid he would.

We decided we'd just leave the roof. We ran past the square-arch area, down a few wide roof slopes that were like big steps. We were still up on a roof (it was like we were just on some enormous complex of roofs). But now the roof was more like asphalt, like a road.

At this point, my brother, or maybe both of us, may have been black. We kind of stopped at one area of asphalt that seemed to be lifting or peeling up in a strip from the rest of the asphalt. The man asked us if we lived here. I said we did. I wasn't sure whether the man would believe us, or whether this would stop the man from calling the police on us.

Dream 2

I was in some huge room like the backstage of a theater. There were a lot of people around, and a lot of stuff was going on. The atmosphere was very brown, like everything was made out of wood: the walls, ceilings, fixtures, etc. I probably stood near a man who was like a boss or a mentor.

I could see all the way through the room, to a wide, tall opening into another room. The next room was like a gym. There also seemed to be a lot of stuff going on in there, like a lot of young girls, maybe junior high school girls, were playing around or practicing sports or something.

I wanted to throw a ball. It may have been a baseball or something that looked like a baseball but was made out of some soft, rubbery  material, maybe like a dog's chew toy. Or it may just have been a wadded up piece of paper. I needed to prove how far I could throw the ball. I felt like I needed to throw the ball all the way through this room and through to the end of the gymnasium.

But I was worried about throwing the ball. I didn't know whether I'd be able to angle the ball well enough to get under the entrance from this room into the gym. If I angled the ball too high, it would hit the doorway and stay in this room. But if I angled the ball too low, it would start falling as it entered the gym and maybe hit one of the girls.

I couldn't decide what to do or how to throw. This made me feel weak. I didn't know how to throw the ball the right way. And so I couldn't prove myself. The man near me may have sensed my awkward feelings. He may have told me not to worry about it one way or the other.

But now I saw one of the girls in the gym throw a ball. She was little, kind of pale, and skinny, like a little dancer girl. She may have been all made up, and her hair may have been pulled back in a bun like dancer girls generally do for recitals. Her throw was perfect. It flew up sharply into the air and probably traveled all the way to the end of the gym.

I felt kind of bad about myself now. How could I not even know how to throw a ball, yet this cute, little girl could throw the ball perfectly? I knew that I should take this as inspiration at least to try and throw the ball.

But now there were young girls all over the gym. I didn't want to hit any of them because of my bad aim. I decided that I needed to get farther through this room and closer to the gymnasium so I could angle my throw better and not hit any of the girls.

But as I walked closer to the gym, the gym became an ice rink. The girls were all now wearing ice skates and white figure skating outfits with cute, fluttery, white skirts. But the girls were all playing ice hockey. They had huge hockey sticks. And apparently they were playing a really good game!

I wanted to see the hockey match now. I didn't even care about throwing the ball. I walked from the backstage room and into the hockey area. The backstage area opened directly into a small, white, plastic structure which was like a little kids' playhouse.

There was a window opening to a view of the game before me, and a window opening to a view of some benches where girls sat who were waiting to go into the game. There were tons of little girls out on the ice. But there were also tons of girls on the benches.

I kind of sat myself up on the windowsill that opened onto the benches. I looked over at the girls. I may have looked at their bottoms as they did something like stretches or warmups or something. The their uniform bottoms peeked out from under their white skirts. The bottoms may have been satiny and shiny. Some of them may have been gold. I was kind of turned on to see the girls' cute bottoms.

Now two older girls or young women walked into the little playhouse. They'd seen that I'd gone in here. They'd thought I'd come to watch the game -- though I no longer knew whether I was here to see the game or just to look at the little girls.

But the women thought they'd be able to get my attention by watching the game, too. Both women started talking about the game, showing off how much they knew about hockey, possibly trying to get me to take interest and talk to them.

One of the women stood up near the window looking onto the game. The other woman stood near the window I was sitting in, trying to get close to me. I thought I should probably pay attention to this woman. I could make her feel good about herself. And if she liked me, that would be nice for me, too. But I suddenly became terribly shy and frozen and had no idea what to do.

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