enough propeller oil; angry twitter man; city council faux pas

Dream 1

I may have been in a suburban neighborhood in the daytime. I may have been dropped off here by someone, possibly my brother or another family member. The street I was walking down may have been level, but it may also have been at the crest of a steep slope of blocks and blocks of residential houses.

I may have been imagining some sort of conversation I would have with someone about an airplane flight I'd taken. I may just have been dropped off from this airplane flight. Some people had thought that the flight or the plane wasn't very good. But I thought it was, and I was imagining a conversation about why I'd thought it was good. My brother had possibly been the pilot.

I had walked clockwise down one block and then another. I'd ended up in something like a wooded park. I turned right and started walking down a path.

I was still imagining the conversation. But now I had to run. Apparently the plane was waiting for me. I had to catch it before it left. My mother was probably running beside me. We ran down a wide, gully-like path.

The airplane -- a big, silvery plane like from World War II -- was somewhere. Then we were on the plane. I was in the hollowed-out back area, which had no windows. My mom was probably up front, in the pilot's cabin, probably with my brother, who was flying the plane. I was still imagining the conversation I would have with people who didn't think this flight or plane was good.

We lifted up into the air. But it was also still somehow like I wasn't on the plane yet -- maybe even like I hadn't decided whether I wanted to be on the plane.

I could see somehow that the plane's propellers -- this was a prop plane -- were having some kind of trouble.

Some part of my vision was now up in the pilot's cabin. Somehow my brother made it known that some sort of tubes that went to the propellers were either out of or very low on oil. This sounded kind of scary to me at first. But then my brother made it known that there was enough oil remaining to get us to wherever we were headed, but that after we got there, we'd definitely need to put more oil in.

I was still in the windowless back part of the plane. But I could see, either through the windows of the pilot's cabin or from some point of view outside the plane, that we'd lifted up over a tall hill in the park.

I still wasn't sure I wanted to be on this flight. But I knew we were already on our way. So I couldn't get off the plane. But I reassured myself, and the people I was having a conversation with in my head, that everything would be okay. I felt like the oil situation had been monitored well.

Dream 2

I had probably posted something on Twitter about some event, maybe some kind of pop culture convention. I'd probably posted a few tweets about how I was excited for the event or how I had really enjoyed the event. I'd probably then posted a tweet that was just a quote, or my paraphrase of a quote, from one of the people who ran the event, possibly the top person in charge of the event.

The person I'd tweeted about, however, was really angry about my tweet. I imagined the person as a white man, bald on the top of his head, but possibly with long, white hair on the sides of his head and a grey mustache that flowed down into a long, white beard.

I read the man's reactions to my tweet and could feel the anger coming from the man. The man felt I'd misquoted him or totally misrepresented him somehow. He told me I should delete all the tweets related to him and his event. He then implied he was even going to try and get my account deleted.

I was now out on a soccer field during the daytime. A game was going on, probably between teenage boys. But it was way off in the distance, and the boys were all so close to the far goal, so they seemed even farther away. Yet at other times it felt like they were pretty close to me.

I may have been trying to get closer to the game -- not to play, but just to see how it was progressing. But I may also have felt unwelcome in the game. And I also may have felt like the angry man was in charge of the game or playing in the game. So I really didn't want to get too close.

The man's Twitter tirade continued during all of this. Somehow the man had started direct messaging me on Twitter. I may have thought this was weird. I was pretty sure he and I were not following each other.

But the man had also managed to connect our conversation with some young woman who was some head person over at Twitter. This three-way conversation probably took place via direct messaging, though it also seemed to take place over the public Twitter feed.

The man was basically trying to get Twitter to delete my account. The woman was sort of defending me. She couldn't see exactly what I'd done wrong. I hadn't misrepresented the man. I'd quoted him directly. She could sort of see that.

But then the woman responded to the man that a lot of times people on Twitter get super-excited about things and post a lot of tweets about whatever they're excited about. The woman was basically implying that I had posted too many tweets about the event, and that the volume of tweets was getting the man all confused, so that it was sort of understandable that the man would eventually feel misrepresented by my statements.

I felt like the woman was actually still trying to defend me. At the very least, she was trying to get the angry man to back off, simply because she found it annoying that he was trying to make sure shut down someone's account. Nevertheless, it was also clear that the woman wasn't on my side, even if she was defending me, and that she -- and possibly even all of Twitter -- found it annoying that I was posting so much about so many things.

I felt like the woman was already starting to be on the fence about whether she should shut down my Twitter account. I had a feeling that the only reason she hadn't already decided to shut down my Twitter account was because she didn't actually know me -- she couldn't actually see me. If she could actually see me, she'd most likely dislike me and firmly decide to shut my account down.

I was now close to a soccer goal. I didn't see any players. But I could probably feel their presence somewhere around me.

I felt like I needed to make a case for myself, to prove that I had not misrepresented the man, that I hadn't even posted very many tweets about the man's event, and that the tweets I'd posted had all been fact-based -- nothing editorial or based on my own opinions or emotions.

I wasn't looking at my phone at all. But somehow, out walking on the soccer field, I was searching for my tweets about the man's event. I couldn't find them. There was some reason for this -- possibly that I'd posted too many other tweets, so that it was now impossible for me to find these specific tweets; or possibly that the man's event had, after all, been so obscure and ill-attended-to, that it was nearly impossible to find any news about it, including my own tweets.

I was in some black room -- possibly a bedroom (or a baby's nursery, but with adult beds in it, too?), possibly my own bedroom, or possibly a bedroom that had been my bedroom but was now partly vacated, as I'd moved out of this bedroom but was still getting stuff out of it. I was lying on a bed. I may have been looking at my phone at first. But now I'd slung the hand my phone was in up over my head and off the edge of the bed.

I may have found enough tweets to prove to the woman that I'd only tweeted a few fact-based tweets about the man's event. But I may still have been uncertain about tweeting these tweets to the woman.

I was probably now on the floor in the room, laying on my stomach or sitting up in some lazy style. I may have been looking at my phone now. But whatever I was looking at was really hard to see and read. I started feeling like maybe the tweets I'd pulled up were really bad examples of whatever I was trying to prove to the woman. I hesitated about sending the tweets. I knew if they weren't good, the woman would get fed up with me once and for all and decide to delete my account like the angry man had told her to.

Dream 3

I was in some sort of official public space. I was in a kind of big room that was full of people. Earlier on I may have been near a food truck. The food truck may have been outside. But it may also have been in this room. While I was at the food truck I may have seen the president of my city council. I may have gotten what I'd needed from the food truck then turned away.

I was now at a doorway out of the room and into another big, full room. My view may have been partly obscured by the doorway.

My city council president walked up to me. He was angry. He pointed his finger at my chest and told me either that I'd said something to offend him or that I'd offended him by not doing something he'd needed me to do.

I told the president that I hadn't done whatever he'd thought I'd done. It was pretty obvious to me that I hadn't. I just needed to point out the obvious to him. But he wouldn't believe me.

He may now have been gone. I still felt like it would be pretty easy to convince him that I hadn't done what he'd thought I'd done. But as I tried, I found it harder and harder to remember the exact evidence that I actually only done good things for him. This may have gotten more and more frustrating to me, as I may possibly have felt that I couldn't actually move from one room to the next without feeling confident that I could present this evidence to the city council president.

shifting conference rooms; car misses bus; living funeral plans

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was "at work." The office space was huge and bright. The section I was mostly in was all just one big open space, divided into two levels. The back level was about 150cm higher than the front level. Most of the space was filled with desks.

There was a conference room along the left wall. My boss had almost the entire management team of one of our clients in the conference room. I was in there, too. But I got pulled out of the room by our office manager. She took me up to her desk at the back area. She told me some other people wanted to use the conference room. She asked me if the meeting we were doing in the conference room was so important.


I got really annoyed. I told the office manager, "Yes! It is important! We basically have the entire company in that room!" But the office manager was still giving me the idea that I needed to move everybody out of the conference room we were in. So I figured I'd take the request to my boss and see what he wanted to do about it.


But when I got back to the front of the area, everybody was gathered at an auditorium-like area that had been set up. A lot of rows of chairs had been set up facing the front wall. There were a stage and a screen along the front wall.


Someone was obviously going to give a presentation to the company. We were all just waiting for the presentation to start. All the management from the company had acknowledged me. It seemed that they liked having me around. I was happy with that.


But I got called away again, probably by the office manager. I had to have another discussion. When the discussion was finished, the presentation either had already started or was so close to starting that I didn't want to make any noise or distraction. There was a person sitting at the end of the row I had been sitting in. I didn't want to ask him to stand up so I could get back to my seat. So I just went a few rows back.

A woman from my work was sitting in a chair outside the rows of chairs, but near the row I was going to sit in. As I sat into the rows I said something to the woman like, "You'll see now what a good note-taker I am. I'm going to take really good notes on this presentation. Then I'll give them to the client. They'll be impressed."

But when I sat in the rows of chairs I realized that the backs of the chairs in front of me were huge. They were yellow plastic and they had grating designs on their backs, like school chairs. But they were probably as tall as a standing person. There also seemed to be a roof-like structure connecting the seat backs in front of me with the seat backs of my row of chairs. Because of all this, my view of the presentation was completely blocked.

I thought to myself, Well, I don't need to see to take notes. I can just listen. But I knew it wasn't good enough. If I didn't see the PowerPoint presentation, I'd miss a lot of stuff that I'd want to take notes on. I'd have to do my best. But it was a pretty bad situation.

Dream #2

I was in a car, but it was also like I had just walked out of some building. It was like I was standing right outside the doors of a building, but also like I was in a car. The building was a city official building. It was big, kind of modern looking. The daylight and coolness of the atmosphere felt like morning time on a nice, clear summer day. The shadow of the building was deep and cool.

I "walked out" of the building (in the car) with my brother and a bunch of other guys. I was in the driver's seat. My brother was in the front passenger seat. The other guys were all crowded tight together in the back seat. The guys all seemed to be tough, maybe a little impatient, but good natured overall.

There was a bus across the parking lot from us. At this point in the parking lot, the lot was just a small strip of asphalt with a special area for buses built right into it. I knew this was the bus I needed to catch. But it looked like the bus was leaving soon.

For some reason it was really hard for me to move away from the building. I think it may have had to do with the guys in the back. The bus pulled away. I knew I missed the bus. I'd have to wait a long time to catch the next bus.

I was annoyed at the guys. They'd made me miss my bus. But I knew I couldn't show my frustration with them. If they felt offended at all, they'd turn violent. So I just acted like nothing was wrong. I just focused on getting across to the bus stop and saying all the time that the bus must be coming soon.

But as I moved across the parking lot, I looked up to my left. Another bus, just like the one that had just left, was now approaching the bus stop. I was pretty sure I could still get where I needed to go by getting onto this bus.

I got up to the bus stop. I was standing out at the bus stop now -- not driving a car or in a car, like I'd been before. The bus arrived. The doors opened. Before getting on, I asked the bus driver if this bus could take me where I needed to go.

Dream #3

I was a little kid, probably a little boy, but maybe a little girl. My view was all in black and white, as if, even though I was seeing through "my own eyes," I was also watching a movie. I was siblings with one of the other children. I'm not sure about the rest. My sibling was probably the opposite gender of whatever I was.

My sibling and I had a grandparent who was dying. The grandparent, probably our grandfather, was in the hospital. He was still conscious. But it was obvious he was going to die very soon. My sibling and I wanted to have a funeral for him before he died. That way he could be a part of it and see how much he meant to everybody around him.

But our parents, and possibly even our older siblings, didn't take any of our efforts seriously. So we had to enlist the help of our friends. I remember some views of me and my sibling at a computer screen. I also remember a view, through a hospital room doorway, of our grandfather in bed.

Eventually what me and my sibling were doing seemed like it could be practical. It was starting to take shape. It was probably going to work. At this point, our older siblings, and maybe even our parents, joined in. But when they joined in they basically took over everything about the project. They gave me and my sibling some little job to do, something that was useless, as if it was the only thing we could handle, even though we'd previously been in charge of everything.