nuclear war; a violent gay orgy

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

It was a hot, sunny day. I was standing out on a steep hillside that overlooked a town. Suddenly, in the distance, I noticed a mushroom cloud. It was an unmistakable sight: a nuclear bomb had been dropped and detonated.

But I hadn't seen the flash or heard any explosion. I just saw the mushroom cloud. The cloud wasn't getting bigger, and it didn't seem as if the radioactivity were moving any closer to my location.

A female friend stood just to my left and slightly behind me. I may have thought to ask her why the radioactivity wasn't coming toward us. But I got the idea that the bomb was far enough away that the radioactivity had already reached its limit of affect. So we were safe.

But now my friend told me to start marching down the hill to pick up a weapon. I started marching down some path. There was a whole line of other people marching down the path. As we passed along some tall building, we picked up weapons that lay on the ground. The weapons were about five feet long and were shaped like crayons. These were actually nuclear weapons, which we were going to go somewhere and fire.

Dream #2

I was part of some group of people involved in a pirate-like or sailor-like mission, although the mission may have occurred in outer space. We were in a time of scarcity. The world or universe was relatively lawless, though groups of people -- such as these pirates -- did tend to live more or less according to agreed upon codes of honor.

My group was sitting in a bunch of booth seats at some large, dim bar. I saw the group from a high angle, as if I were a camera in the ceiling. Everybody in the group wore t-shirts and dark jeans. The leader of the group was a tall, thin, kind of pale-skinned guy with short, black hair and a little bit of stubble.

The leader had hired a second group of people to take care of some work we'd been doing. But now the leader couldn't afford to pay the group at the promised time. Because of this, the second group would, by all rights, kill the leader.

But, to get around this fate, the leader told us, he had come up with a plan. He would let himself look like he was being taken captive by another important member of our group. He would let himself be "captive" for a few days, while the payment to the second group came in. And when the payment came in, the leader would free himself and pay the second group.

Now we were in a smaller upstairs portion of the bar, meeting with the second group. Our leader was speaking calmly with the second group, when suddenly a tall, muscular man with long, blonde hair came in and grabbed our leader.

The blonde man was preparing to bind the leader's arms around the back of a chair. But as he was doing so, he gave some speech. The blonde man's speech made me realize that part of this whole act was real. The reality of the speech, I realized, was, in fact, what gave the whole scenario its justification. If it had just been an act, the second group wouldn't have believed it.

The blonde man's speech was mostly about how he himself had not received payment from our leader. But, during the speech, which was impromptu, the blonde man slipped and mentioned some "papers." He didn't seem to notice his mistake. But our leader did. The leader cried, "Hold on a minute! Now I see what's going on! You're at fault for all of this! You and I have never dealt with any papers!"

It became clear to me that the reason our leader didn't have the money to pay the second group was at least partly because the blonde man had done something to divert funds our leader should have received to himself.

The leader never worked with anybody by using papers or contracts. I knew this. Everything the leader did was verbal. But the blonde man had just mentioned paper. This meant he had been working with someone else. And this other person probably helped him steal the leader's money.

The leader realized that if he defeated the blonde man, he could probably pay the second group right away. So instead of letting the blonde man bind him to the chair he wrestled his way out of the bonds and began to fight the blonde man.

But this action angered the second group, who were now worried they weren't going to get paid. The second group, or maybe part of my own group, may also have had sympathies with the blonde man. So everybody jumped into the fight: some on the side of my group, some on the side of the second group, and some on the side of the blonde man.

But as well as fighting, some of the guys started having sex with each other. There were guys laying on the floor, crouching on all fours on the floor, even sitting in chairs (somehow), while being penetrated anally by other guys.

I was sitting on a couch, right about where the leader had originally been sitting (except that he'd been sitting in a chair and behind a table!). I was watching a whole row of guys sitting in chairs being penetrated by kneeling or standing guys behind them. But the fighting was still going on, and some of these guys being penetrated were killed -- stabbed in the back -- just as they approached orgasm.

I now looked around and saw that a lot of the guys who were involved in the gay orgy rather than in the fighting were being picked off, one by one, as easy targets, often right as they were approaching orgasm.

Eventually the fighting died down. Everything was calm. But dead and injured people were still laying around on the floor. This area now looked like a living room. There was even an entertainment center with a TV on it across the room from the couch.

I was looking around the room, trying to find the leader. But the whole sight of all the dead and injured was too confusing. I couldn't figure out who was who. I couldn't make out whether the leader was among the dead or injured.

Now a female friend standing to my right and a little bit behind me asked me if I was ready to go home. My friend said she'd drive me home -- as if all this time we'd just been at some college party. My friend mentioned that in her car she had a bunch of CDs that I'd probably like, including some bands from the 1960s like the Rolling Stones and the Beatles.

I stood up and walked toward the entertainment center, thinking about how I'd like to listen to a particular rare Beatles album that I seldom got a chance to listen to. But before I could suggest that album, my friend said that since it was such a short drive to my house, we'd listen to some other album. I didn't really care for this other album, but I knew I didn't have much say in the matter.

I now saw a small staircase leading down to a back area, a warehouse-like area, like in the back of a store. I may have seen the body of a man with a blue t-shirt on the steps. I suddenly thought that maybe our leader could have escaped through this back exit.

But my friend called me to leave again. I now got the feeling that my leader was dead. I had the feeling that the second group had been too angered over not receiving its payment right away, and that it had taken the confusion of the fight/orgy to kill our leader.

My friend was taking me home as a distraction. The way she was acting -- like this had all been just a college party -- was also a distraction. Everybody thought I had the mindset of a little kid. They thought that if I knew right away that our leader was dead, I'd go into terrible emotional shock. So they were all acting like nothing had really happened, and like I was just being taken home after a party. They would wait at least until the morning, I knew, to tell me about or leader.

***

UPDATE: Added illustration to dream #2, September 21, 2012, 9:55 AM, Mountain Standard Time.

screwed; hantavirus; statue of trickery

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I may have started out in an office. But eventually I was on the phone as I sat in a dim bedroom. Both in the office and on the phone, I was speaking with one of my old co-workers, KB. KB was now the head of some employment agency I was working with.

I had been out on a job. But KB now told me I couldn't go back. KB told me this was because some form I'd filled out had shown some bad information about me. I think it was possible for me to get around whatever bad information had been proven. But the management at the company wasn't around. So I'd have to wait until KB could get back in touch with the management, to talk with them about getting around the bad information.

I had a feeling this wasn't all true. I had a feeling that I'd somehow angered KB and that now she was trying to find a way to get back at me. KB was trying to keep me from this job. I thought that the management team may actually have been around, but that KB had just decided not to talk to them about me.

I got angry. I kept my emotions under control, but I did make a comment implying that I was angry and that I thought KB was giving me the runaround. As I spoke, I was driving a screw through a sheet of paper and into a brick-sized block of wood.

Dream #2

I was in a bedroom with a woman who was about my mom's age and size. The woman may have been one of my mom's old best friends. The woman half-lay on a bed. I sat down on the bed. We had been speaking about the hantavirus. For some reason, we were making jokes about how the virus had come from the "upscale" cabins at Yosemite.

Dream #3

I was either in or watching a movie. Either I or the main character was in love with a girl. But there were a number of men who were dead set against letting any woman into the character's life. These men were all from the internet, like they'd been internet figures, but they'd found their way off of the internet, through fiber optic cables, and into real life.

There were three men, I believe. One man was a definite leader. All the men were criminals. They may have been internet figures all their lives, or they may have, at some point, been relegated to the internet for their crimes. But now they had broken out of the internet and were ready to keep the main character from finding love in his life.

There were two scenes, both of which seemed to occur in adjacent rooms in some huge building, kind of like the Rose Main Reading Room of the NYPL. I can't remember the first scene very well. But I think I saw the main character very much in the third person during this scene.

In the second scene, I probably saw through the main character's eyes. I was getting in line for something. There was a long belt-rope line-maze leading to somewhere. I knew that somewhere along the line, I would meet the girl I was interested in. I was looking forward to meeting the woman and proving to the men trying to stop me that I wasn't afraid of them.

But now I got a phone call. The call was either from or on behalf of my mom. My mom was having serious health troubles. I needed to go see her right away. My mom may also have been angry with me, and that made me feel like I needed to get to her even sooner.

I turned around and headed out of the line and out of the room, probably into the room of the first scene. In that room the men who were against me stood around some sculpture that looked like a small model of the Statue of Liberty, except in a mottled fashion, kind of like a sculpture by Rodin.

The three men laughed at me. I now understood that the phone call had been a fake. My mom really wasn't in trouble. I was just being called so I'd step out of line and lose my chance at seeing the girl.

I was torn. I felt like I couldn't let myself believe the feelings I was getting from these men, that the phone call had been a fake. I still believed that my mom was in trouble. So I felt like I still needed to go see her. But I also couldn't let the men fake me into stepping out of line and seeing the woman. So I felt like I needed to get back in line. But I also felt like I'd already missed my chance at seeing the woman. Now that I'd stepped out of line, the woman would miss me and leave.

So I was frozen. I didn't know what to do or where to go. Of course, I didn't want to show this feeling to the men, either. The leader slapped two traffic-cone-orange squares onto the chest of the Rodinesque Statue of Liberty. The squares had backs that kind of looked like defibrillator pads.

***

UPDATE: Added drawing to dream #3, September 20, 2012, 8:13 AM, Mountain Standard Time.

driving to texas; movie-concert work farewell; hotel policeman

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I had just been part of some situation where somebody had been trying to tell someone else how far away one point in Texas was from another point. The person telling this had been lazy and wrong. I thought to myself that all he'd had to do was show a couple of points on a map and figure out things that way.

I was now figuring out the distances between the towns myself. One town was in south central Texas. The other town was on the east border of south Texas. I was looking at these two towns from a map. But the map took up my entire field of view. It felt like I was flying over the map, looking down on some actual landscape, even though it looked just like a map.

I kept flying over the border of Texas, spotting three towns that lay right on the border. One was San Martin. I forgot the name of the second one, which was farther south. The one farthest south was named Moon.

I was now with somebody else, a young man, tall, roundly muscular, with a mostly-shaved head. We were apparently driving to the town on the border of Texas. I knew that the town was 683 miles away.

We spoke about driving. As we did I saw our destination, or one of our destinations, in the distance. It was a small down at the distant end of a straight highway. The sky behind the town was purple and dim from sunset. There also seemed to be some kind of stone bluff that was taller than any building in the town. Or else this stone bluff may actually have been the hotel building where we were staying.

We were now in the hotel. It must have been night. We didn't have many lights on in the bedroom of the hotel. Only light from the bathroom shone into the bedroom. We were probably getting ready for bed or getting up and getting ready for the day.

But now a man from the hotel came in. He was tall, thin, with longish, blonde-brown hair and a receding hairline. He wore a white shirt and a red vest. The man told us that he needed us to move out of this room into another room. There were some kind of important people, the man explained, who needed the room we were in.

He told us that people had either moved out of or been kicked out of the other room. Everybody else in the hotel thought, because of the people who'd been in that room, that the room was really bad. But, the hotel man said, the room was really the best room in the hotel. The man was keeping this secret for us, if we would be so kind as to move.

The man I was with didn't have a problem with moving. But I did. Apparently I had to go somewhere for work. I was actually getting ready to go there right now. I had to be to a meeting at 10 AM. And that was right in the middle of the time when I needed to be to the meeting.

I was slinging on a suit jacket as I thought to myself that, after all, the man I was with could move all our stuff into the other hotel room. Or the hotel people could do it. But I didn't trust things either way. As long as I couldn't be here to see things getting moved, I couldn't trust that something wouldn't get lost. I really didn't want to move, even if we did get a better room.

Dream #2

I was at a movie theatre. It was gigantic. It was all dark, with almost a feeling that we were outside on a dark night -- possibly just because the place was so huge. The seats of the theatre were all set, in huge sections, at different angles. My section was set so that my left side faced the movie screen.

I had probably just finished watching one movie. Now another movie was set to begin. I didn't have a ticket to watch this movie. But I figured that if I just stayed in my seat, I could watch the second movie without getting caught.

Now it was like the second movie was a movie I had been here to see all along. I was really excited for it. But as I sat waiting, two women came into my row of seats and sat down to my left. The two women were maybe in their thirties, kind of attractive, but a little worn out looking, and a little boisterous and crude.

The women may have been talking about the show. Apparently the show was either a concert or a movie about a concert. The band "in concert" was some new rock band that the women were in love with. The band had a punky but smart sensibility. I didn't like that type of music. But I think I convinced myself I liked them. Otherwise, I reasoned, I wouldn't be here.

The woman closest to me tossed a bunch of boxes into the seat between her and me. The boxes were bulky and blocked my view of the screen. But the woman didn't seem satisfied with that. She began pushing the boxes -- and something on top of the boxes -- at me, crowding me out of my own chair.

I moved away. I sat on my seat's armrest. I think I even moved over to the next seat to my right. But by that time, I may have been to the aisle. I couldn't go any farther.

I figured this was enough. I was tired of being crowded out by the women. I was going to leave. I was now walking away. I was outside, on a long, straight road through a small town in the desert. It was daytime. There were a lot of cars out on the road. Now I was regretting not having stayed for the show. I remembered that maybe, after all, the band was good.

I could now hear the beginning of the movie, as if I were still close enough to the theatre to hear the movie. The band had just come out on stage. They said they were going to do a cover version of the Beatles song "Love Me Do."

The person who had introduced the band onto the stage said something like, "Oh, that's actually one of the hardest Beatles songs to cover. Good luck, guys."

But I remembered that the band had done the cover pretty well. I could now hear the song in my head. It sounded like "Love Me Do," but with the soft-punky sound of the band. I thought it was okay.

I was walking for just a moment through the neighborhood I'd lived in when I was in high school. I may have been looking at my phone. My sister was asking me a lot of personal information. I didn't want to give it to her. I felt like she would use it in bad ways.

I had then come into an office building. I was in a big hallway that seemed to curve around some large auditorium. The hallway was white with grey carpeting and fluorescent light. It felt like a hallway inside a new church building to me.

At some point a man told me that I'd better get ready, because everybody was going to be moving out of this building pretty soon. Possibly a tall, slim, black woman told me the same thing. The woman was like some kind of important secretary. The man, whom I saw somewhere, was an IT person. He was tallish, fattish, and bald, with red-brown hair on the sides of his head and a red-brown mustache.

I curved around into some slanted area like a coat closet that actually connected the hallway I was in to another hallway. I turned right down that other hallway, walked down, and found myself in some kind of lobby area with a group of office workers.

I had been thinking about what the IT man had said. A lot of these guys were IT guys. They spoke to me about where the IT operations for the company were going to move. Most of it, they said, would be in a building different from the building I was going to. They mentioned some cities.

I asked about a couple IT people, as if I were trying to confirm that they'd done something for me in the past. But the others said I had the wrong people. They told me the name of the man who had actually helped me. They then told me either that that the man was no longer with the company or that he was going to be moving really far away.

Dream #3

I had come from somewhere else and had now arrived in a hotel room, which was also set up as an office. The "office" side of the room was just a wall-length desk with two computers on it. The room was mostly dark, with just the glow of the computer screens and the incandescent light from some other room lighting the place.

I was probably working here with a pretty, black woman. But right while we were in the middle of some project, "my boss" came in. He was an old man, kind of gruff looking, with blonde hair and a mustache.

The man began giving us some speech which implied that he suspected me of something. He thought I was a bad person who was waiting for just the right moment to do something bad. I think he was just waiting for a reason to get rid of me.

The man now began giving us some kind of justification for his feelings. He said he'd worked for years as a SWAT team member or some kind of special operations guy. He got to know the signs of a bad person.

The man then began telling us stories of how he'd have to talk down people who'd finally gone bad. The man said that he'd really been aiming to shoot the people dead all along. But you had to go through a whole protocol before you could finally kill the guy.

The man stood before us, re-enacting a scene. It now seemed like the man was wearing heavy SWAT team gear. He seemed to be a bit younger, but also a lot more wrinkled and worn out. His hair was a whole lot thinner, but a lot longer. And his eyes were frantic and bugged-out. He may have been holding a rifle.

The man told us how he'd balance legal phrases intended to calm down the target with a manner of speech calculated to frighten the target and make him jumpy. The man said, "I'd keep telling the creep, 'Put down your gun! You're alright! Put down your gun!' But, really, I was just egging him on. I wanted him to lift his gun, so I could blow his head off!"

The man seemed so frantic by this point in time that I could hardly bear looking at him. But now there was the sound of sirens. I turned around and looked toward the curtained window of the hotel room. I could see full, grey daylight coming in dimly below the bottom fringe of the curtain. I was waiting to see the flashing lights accompanying the sirens.

The man or the woman may have said that the cops were finally here, that the man had been planning all along to have me arrested, and that I'd now finally given him a reason to have me arrested.