escape from the psychic theater!

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I walked into what seemed like a night club for very wealthy people. The place had a dark atmosphere, an all the men and women wore beautiful tuxedos and dresses. The place was incredibly crowded. I found a seat at the very back.

At the front was a stage where a couple men were performing. Their act was part of a benefit for something having to do with one of the most important men in this crowd. There were musical instruments and microphone stands up on stage, like for a rock band. But this act seemed to be more of a stand-up comedy or comedy sketch act. Both men were dressed in a modern style, kind of shabby, wearing flimsy t-shirts and black jeans, and having long, scraggly hair.

As the act continued, one man was left alone on stage. The man now sat down in a chair. He was suddenly dressed in a black velvet dress. He wore a skull-hugging hat and possibly a necklace, both made of something like diamonds. He was dressed as a woman, but he was acting like a transvestite. This transvestite had just been asked to a dance that was a big social event among the wealthy.

The transvestite began giving a monologue, but through voice over, a loudspeaker playing his words, as if they were his thoughts, while he sat still, without moving his lips. The thoughts began with wondering how he should act at the dance. But they eventually turned to some boy, whom the transvestite may have liked.

This act all became too plainly a mockery of the son of important rich man in whose honor this ball was being thrown. It was in bad taste to make fun of the son at this event, possibly because the rich man was sensitive about his son, but possibly because the son had actually died not too long ago.

The man playing the transvestite knew he needed to tone down his act, or change it altogether, before the important rich man ruined his career. So the man playing the transvestite stood up and walked to a microphone and began giving some serious, kind of sentimental act, showing what a wonderful person the son had been.

In the middle of this act, one of my old schoolmates from college, JSp, walked out on stage. A spotlight shone on him. He walked straight forward, as if in a trance, to, and then beyond, the end of the stage. He may have been muttering something as he walked, like he was a little crazy. He continued his walk forward, all the way to the back of the room, as if a walkway had just then been formed for him.

I was now at the back end of a theater, like a small theater in the Village. I was surrounded by old friends from college. We were all our current ages. We were watching a new performance by some of our friends. Some of us who were watching may also have been scheduled to go on stage later on. I was not going on stage.

The people who now got up on stage, ML and one other person, looked and acted like crazy people. They were all scraggly, dirty, and pale. Their hair was thinning, but disheveled, and they wore coats that were way too big for them. They just seemed to putter around on stage, mumbling strange things, more to themselves than to each other. They may also have walked off the regular stage and onto a network of walkways that went around and behind the audience.

Another group of people walked out onto the stage. They also appeared to be old friends of mine from college. They began speaking, either to each other or to the crowd, about moving around either in the dream world or in a state like the out-of-body state. They said that it was an easy thing to do, and that they were a little surprised and disappointed that the people in the audience hadn't started doing it before now. It was like the audience was a class of people experienced at this type of dream movement or out-of-body movement.

Other people around me seemed, at this prompting, quickly to have jumped into this altered state. I had taken quite a while in getting to it. I stood up and ran toward the stage. (Actually, I must have flown toward the stage without thinking of it -- I was going over the heads of the crowd and not using one of the walkways.)

I reached the stage and approached the back of the stage, which was a solid wall. As I approached the wall, it opened up, like an eye would open, and let me out into an area like an alleyway in a big city. There was a long, warehouse-like building off to my right. I knew I could fly, so I got a running start, then began flying up along the building.

I may have planned to fly over the building. But for some reason I landed. I may not have had the ability to fly anymore. I began running along the building, possibly (not really sure) because I thought that once I reached the end of the building I'd have the momentum to fly again. But I kept running and running, never reaching the end of the building.

All around the building was complete darkness, and all around me was fog. I saw through this darkness and fog as if I were running with a headlight guiding my path. I was starting to wonder whether I'd just keep running like this forever and ever. I thought to myself, What's going on? I'm getting nowhere!

Suddenly a hand grabbed my left arm. A voice said, "Dude! You are getting somewhere! You have to calm down your thoughts and uncloud your vision." The voice may have told me to "pull down my shades," as if I were wearing sunglasses or some special kind of eyeglasses.

I reached up to my eyes and pulled down my shades -- oddly enough, I think I pulled them down over my eyes instead of under them. My vision sparkled with slow, white gleams for a moment. As the gleams dispersed, my eyes felt a bit of strain, like I was trying really hard to keep my eyes open while I was tired.

My vision slowly cleared, and I could see that I was in a long driving tunnel, like the Holland Tunnel in New York. But the tunnel may have been kind of narrow, and there were a lot of people out walking around in it. The man and I were actually in a car. I was driving and the man was in the passenger seat.

The car was driving slow and the people were moving slow. But the people would often suddenly walk straight across the tunnel, or they would randomly swerve into the center of the tunnel. I would have to react quickly to avoid hitting the people, even though both their and my actions were so slow. The man said, "See? When you were driving blindly, you risked hitting all these people. You need to stay aware of where you really are, or else you're going to hurt someone."

At this point my consciousness may have faded into some kind of "real life scenario." I don't really remember what it was, though.

But as the "real life scenario" ended -- possibly with my not having done a good job and fighting to get out of the scenario! -- my vision faded, again through the sparkles, into the tunnel. Again the people in the tunnel seemed would get in the way of my car and I'd have to react quickly to avoid hitting them.

But my car slowly faded away, and I found myself out walking among the people. The slow motion suddenly cleared away. When the slow motion cleared, the people in the tunnel also changed a little bit. The tunnel itself also became narrower and smaller, kind of like a footpath tunnel, or even a hallway. The atmosphere, which before had felt so slow and sticky, now felt clear and normal. But most of the people were walking around in a complete daze, like they were on some other world.

I began recognizing people. I knew that I'd known them from the audience I'd been in before I'd made the jump through the stage wall. But none of these people were from my college days. One may possibly have been a girl from the neighborhood I'd lived in before going to college.

I realized that we had all actually been part of some experiment, maybe a government experiment, on psychic people. We were all brought together and then drugged into a state where we would perform our psychic abilities -- mostly out-of-body type abilities. During the experiences, I realized, if we had the ability to see each other for who we really were, we'd recognize each other from the past experiences. But we were so drugged during the experiences that once we woke up, we'd all forget each other.

I hoped to push past this somehow and hold onto my recognition of some of these people. The girl from my old neighborhood seemed to be a little more awake than the others. So I said, "Hey," as she walked past. There was a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. But she kept walking. Another woman, maybe a heavyset Hispanic woman, also seemed to be a little awake. So I tried to get her attention. But she also only slightly recognized me. So I kept walking.

I knew that I was still in full control of my psychic abilities and my consciousness. So I decided to get out of this place before the government could take it away again. There was a door out of the hallway right in front of me. I simply opened it. I could see the night sky, and the hint of some big, hospital-like building (of which this hallway must have been a part) outside the door.

I was about to leave, but a heavy hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. It was a big, fat, black man in a police uniform. He said, "Uh-uh, sir. You aren't going anywhere."

I figured I would still try to escape. But as I tried to back toward the door, the officer pulled out a (purple plastic?) revolver and shot at me. The officer may have hit me with a tranquilizer dart. I knew the officer was trying to sedate me, so he could end my process, erase my memory, and set me back into my normal environment, unaware of what I'd been through.

But I refused to be taken down so easily. I said, "Oh, fuck that bull shit!" I somehow managed to overpower the officer. Either by using my strength (LOL!) or by using psychic powers, I managed to make the officer twist the revolver in toward his own stomach.

I made the officer shoot himself in the stomach with a tranquilizer dart. As the officer did this, he cried, "Oh, dear god, no." He passed out and slumped to the ground. I was holding the tranquilizer gun.

I ran out into the night. Beyond the hospital-like building was a hilly lawn that seemed to be lit by large, stadium-style lights. I seemed to have come out of a door inside of or near some black, tarp-like or tent-like structure, the front of which was flapping back and forth a little. In the distance were a couple workers. I had a bad feeling that they were security officers or that, if they saw me, they'd call security workers to capture me.

I continued running. I was afraid that the tranquilizer -- I wasn't sure whether it had hit me -- was going to take effect and make me pass out very soon. I wanted to keep running, either until I escaped or until the tranquilizer made me pass out. I thought that I could, at the very least, get far away from the building and hide myself somewhere.

I ran toward the top of a hill where there stood a tree with a wide canopy. I ran between the tree, which was on my left, and a fence, which was on my right. On the other side of the fence there seemed to be a densely wooded area. I was still carrying the tranquilizer gun. I threw the gun over the fence, apparently thinking that by doing so I would eliminate the evidence that I had shot the officer with it.

Only a moment after throwing the gun over the fence, I began flying. I slowly floated up over the fence and then up into the thin branches of the densely wooded area. The branches began changing color, becoming pinkish or pinkish-orange.

There seemed to be a place among these strangely colored branches where I could rest, possibly even let myself pass out, and not be detected by the security officers. The place seemed somehow to be disappointing to me, like it was a shabby tree house or a dwelling built by a bunch of dirty monkeys. I didn't really want to be here. But I had no choice. There was nowhere else for me to go.

As soon as I set myself down on the planks that made up the floor of this place, the place changed. First it changed into some kind of living room or entertainment room that seemed to be on a balcony-like floor in a big house. I could see over the balcony ledge to another living room-like area on the floor below.

The view then, while keeping its location steady, became cartoon-like, like flat, thick-lined cartoons such as Dexter's Laboratory. Some cartoon characters actually came into my view. They were all short, little characters, like Dexter. They were also childlike, somehow.

There was some adult woman on the floor below, a kind of guardian to these cartoon characters. The woman may have been real, not cartoon. The cartoon characters were all warning me to be quiet, so that I didn't wake up the woman. If the woman woke up and found out I was hiding here, she'd probably get really angry.

cleaning for mom; ornate room; program access; phone memory; politeness doesn't pay

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was at my family's house. I had just finished taking care of some task, possibly with my brother-in-law. Now we were heading back into the living room. It may have been night. The living room was cluttered. The only light in the room was an incandescent light bulb somewhere, maybe on a shadeless lamp on a table.


My mom and possibly a couple other family members all sat in a cirlce amid the piles and piles of clutter. My brother-in-law and I sat down with everybody. I think my mom was having us get ready to move a couple of heavy objects for her. We were ready to do this.


But now my mom said, "I'm glad you guys are here. Because we have a lot of stuff to go through and clean out. In fact, we could be here for days and days, cleaning out the stuff I have."


I got angry. I stood up and said, "Well, it's fine that you want us to help you clean stuff and move stuff. But I can't devote all my time to cleaning your stuff. I didn't just come here to do that. I came here to study, too."


I stood up to move something that needed to be moved. I felt bad after having been so angry with my mom. I had actually come back to my hometown because I was out of money. My mom had helped me get back home. Now I was telling her I couldn't help her with things?


As I walked over to the object I was supposed to move, an air hockey table, my mom told me, "We used to live on an Air Force base. When we lived out on the base, everything was a lot easier, and you had a lot better outlook on life. Do you remember that?"


I lifted up the air hockey table and shifted it either to the left or the right, about the length of the table. As soon as I shifted it, daylight flooded into the living room. The living room looked a lot bigger, almost as if it were a workshop or a warehouse. I turned around and walked through the living room. I probably walked past my mom, even though I was still probably talking to her and probably helping her out with things.


Dream #2


An ornate room, like a room in a palace. Every surface of the room had a blue marble kind of texture, like either a cream color or a light blue color veined with a darker blue. Everything was also edged or lined with gold in ornate designs. But some of the furniture seemed to be attached to the walls and the ceiling, so that I could see the tops of stools or dressers facing me from the wall before me and the ceiling.


Dream #3


I was in some big room like a big garage. But the walls seemed to be covered in a billowing, white fabric, like something out of a photographer's studio, and the light was a very suffused, gentle incandescent. There were rows of tall metal tables, like tables in a workshop. There were probably three or four rows, divided into two aisles. Each table had two computers on it. These computers were workstations for specific people.


I went to my workstation. But my computer wasn't working. A tall, pale, skinny, white man walked up to my workstation. The man told me that it was bad news that my computer wasn't working. I was doing something of some importance to the government. Somebody knew what kind of work I was doing. So if my computer wasn't working, it was likely that the people trying to stop my work hacked into my system and shut the system down. But I needed to keep doing the work. It couldn't stop now.


The man got onto my workstation. He may have told  me that the problem was with an energy level in my workstation. Because something was weird with the energy level, I was no longer being given access to my workstation.


But the man had managed to set me up on some kind of a backdoor system. The regular system, I believe, required me to have a certain amount of energy so I could run all the programs on my workstation. This system, on the other hand, allowed me to log in to single programs. The system was just a list of the programs I would usually run. I would click on the program name. A drop down menu would appear. I would go from there to run my program.


Something didn't seem entirely good about this. I felt like I needed to have the regular system back up and running as soon as possible. I felt like if I continued using the setup I was currently using, whatever network my workstation was linked into would identify my activity in a strange way, destroying my regular system as I knew it, or else that I would eventually be denied access to this backdoor system as well.


Dream #4

My cell phone told me that I could no longer put any additional items onto the memory. The memory was so close to full that the phone could no longer even run the functions of programs that would store things in its memory. I really couldn't do anything on my phone. The phone didn't have enough memory to run any processes.

Dream #5

I was possibly in a bowling alley. I was with a large group of people, mostly kids. It may have been like we had taken these kids on a field trip. But now we were getting ready to leave.

As people were milling around, maybe doing stuff like putting on their jackets (it must have been winter), my sister stood before me. Behind her was a little partition, like she was standing before some segment of wall cornering off from a hallway. We stood in a greenish grey fluorescent light. Behind my sister, I could see the bowling alleys and all the kids.

My sister said, "I have a feeling you're having trouble with money. And I want to let you know that if you need help with money, all you have to do is ask. We're willing to help you."

I had a feeling I was in trouble with money, too. But I didn't want to bother my sister with the details. So I just told my sister thanks, and that I was alright.

We were all now walking down a hallway kind of like an office hallway, except that it was really dim. The only light was natural light coming from a front window wall in the far distance. We stopped so a group of people could do something, I'm not sure what, possibly use the restroom.

I stood in the hallway with a twelve-year-old girl. The girl had golden tan skin, blue eyes, and shoulder-length, brown-blonde hair. She only came up to the middle of my chest. She wore a big, puffy black jacket that made her look overweight. On the wall behind the girl was some framed photo, probably an Impressionist-style painting, in heavy browns, blacks, and greens, of a figure who looked kind of like Emile Zola.

The girl was kind of flirting with me. I liked it. I was flattered. The girl flirtatiously asked me something about what our relationship might be like in five years, when she was seventeen. In one sense, she may just have been implying that she was hoping she'd be able to take care of my by that time. In another sense, she was just wondering whether I would let her get romantic with me.

I tried to steer her off from worrying about that argument. I flattened my hand on the crown of her head, then lifted the flattened hand up in the air until it went about two or three inches above the crown of my head. This was supposed to illustrate to the girl how, in five years, she would be taller than I. She might still like me, but she wouldn't think I was attractive. So she shouldn't worry right now about whether she thought I was attractive.

We all started walking again. We headed toward the exit of this building, which was now definitely like an office building. In fact, we had all come here for some reason almost totally related to me. It was like I had come here to interview for a job or to find assistance regarding a job that I had or was looking for. Others in the group may have been doing the same thing here. Everything had been taken care of. So we were leaving.

But as almost everybody else had gone out the front door -- a big, heavy, wooden door, kind of like for a Mexican restaurant with a mission-like decor -- a woman came into the foyer and stopped me. She was a bit taller than I, olive skinned, with frizzy, black hair and brown eyes with a lot of mascara.

The woman told me, "I'm friends with SG, someone you used to work for. I called him up to tell him you were here. I was really excited you were here. But SG told me that you need to tell both me and him everything that made you leave your last job. We want to know what made the situation so bad that you couldn't stay there anymore. You're too valuable to us, SG said, and we can't afford to lose you."

The woman also said that SG had told her that I have a bad habit of not speaking up when things are going bad at the workplace. He'd said that I needed to talk to him whenever something bad started happening, so he could figure out how to take care of things for me.

My view faded out of the building, as if I had looked out the door -- not walked out of it -- and into a blinding white light. The view now changed into a yellow slip with computer-printed writing on it, almost like the copy portion of a bill or a deposit slip. But it was a letter, or, actually, something more like an email (in telegram form?) from SG.

SG's message said something like, "There is a point when you can have too much politeness. Sometimes it doesn't pay to be polite." This was in reference to my bad habit of always acting like things were going well when they really weren't. SG was telling me that I needed to tell him about the bad things, as soon as they happened, from now on.