friends' basement; the guido routine

(I apologize for the technical error -- this dream post was supposed to have been posted on November 29. But I somehow managed to save it as a draft, rather than publish it.)

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I had somehow gotten into the basement of an "apartment" that I knew was the apartment of my old friend R and his wife L. I was at the foot of two sets of stairs that faced each other. The stairs and the floor of the basement were made out of white tile, and the section of the basement I was in felt very bright.

I knew that neither R nor L were home. I'm not sure why I was in the house, but I didn't want R or L to see me. I probably wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible.

But now I heard footsteps walking toward the head of one of the staircases. I quickly walked around the other staircase, hiding behind one of the white basement walls. But I was wearing a winter jacket that made a lot of zippy sound as I moved. I thought my sounds had revealed my presence. I didn't want to move around and make any more noise.

The person walked down the steps and was now in the basement. The person walked around the corner of the wall I was hiding behind. I didn't move.

The person, a kind of short woman with pale skin, pale, red-brown hair, and pale, blue-green eyes, saw me. But she didn't seem very surprised by me at all. She seemed to think I was just some friend of R or L's and that I had stopped by without any previous notice.

The woman said something to me to make me feel I needed to be involved in what she was doing, which was the household laundry. I got the understanding that the woman had come here to watch the house for R and L, as if R and L had gone on vacation.

We walked over to the laundry room. The woman put some clothes in the washing machine as she told me that L was still upstairs, sleeping. The woman seemed to imply that R wasn't around. I wondered where he could be.

The washing machine was kind of strange. It had a thick, disc-like device, like a hot rod's air filter, in the center column of the drum. And there was a secondary device, like a basin, placed inside the drum, spanning the entire circumference of the drum, and maybe only two or three inches deep. I didn't know how the whole load of laundry would fit into that tiny basin.

Dream #2

I had put together some songs for the acoustic guitar. The songs were kind of upbeat, kind of heavy, but definitely meant for the acoustic guitar. I may possibly have thought of them as having an Elliott Smith style.
I was now looking for a way to publicize my songs. I was out with a group of friends, walking along a city street that looked like a Main Street in a small town but was as packed and bustling as a big city street during rush hour. But everyone out here seemed to be heading out to have fun.

I was with a group of friends. I knew that my friends had been involved, on small and large scales, with promoting and selling their performance art. I thought to myself of everything my friends had been through in order to get their work out their and to become successful artists. I wondered why I hadn't put the same effort into my life.

But I was happy to have my friends. I could, at the least, ask my friends to help me promote my work. They'd probably make fun of me for not having done what they'd done as early as they'd done it. And some of them might not help me at all. But maybe some would help me.

We were now walking toward a rock or music club that was in the basement of a building. I knew this would be a good place for me to get a gig. If I got a gig here, I could display my new set of songs. I was sure people here would like my songs. I'd probably get a record deal.

I even thought I could do it without having to ask my friends for help. If I could just hang around with the people they hung around with, then get to know the important people and make a good impression on them, I might be able to get my music out through them. I felt bad for using my friends in that way. But I didn't feel like what I would be doing would be so bad.

I imagined the basement club being a narrow space crammed with people. I was now down in the basement, which was actually a wide, crowded area with a small stage at the front. The seating area crowded all the way around the stage. The audience area almost had the smoky, hazy feel of the audience at a boxing match.

On stage were two black women. One was maybe in her twenties or thirties. The other was old enough to be the first woman's mother. She may actually have been the first woman's mother. Both women were a little heavyset, with long hair done in tight braids and pale, blue-green eyes. They both wore flowing, purple dresses.

The women, mostly the younger woman, were speaking about a trip they'd taken to Africa. The younger woman was explaining how she'd thought before the trip that her mind was really open and aware of the ways people get through hardships and succeed in spite of hardships.

But being to Africa showed the younger woman just how naive she'd been. She said that she felt like she thought white people must feel in America when she interacted with the African people in Africa.

The younger woman said that she then came back to America and felt that she was now seeing life more like a white person would than like a black person would (???). The older woman and younger woman discussed this for a bit.

The younger woman wanted to illustrate how she felt by what she'd actually told herself. She hesitated at first. But then she said, "I told myself, I'm really like a Guido now."

Everybody in the audience was a little stunned to hear the woman use this term. I didn't mind it so much. In fact, I thought it was funny.

I now noticed that my mother and brother were sitting just to my right. My mom laughed silently at the woman's statement. That eased my own tension -- I had been afraid to laugh at first, because of the audience's stunned behavior.

I now gave a genuine, but odd-sounding, back-of-the-throat whine-laugh. My laugh was so genuine and awkward that everybody laughed at it. This seemed to loosen up the tense attitude that had taken over the audience.

obama, fozzie, and goldin; ollie and romney; stubborn laundry; psychiatrist's phone; joy house

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a dark room like a mix between a living room and part of a factory. There were a number of other people in the room with me. But it also felt like I was sleeping in the room alone. I was laying on the couch, mostly covered by a blanket. The other people in the room were beyond my feet, and I never saw them.

I had been facing the back of the couch. But now I turned around. There was a window high on the wall opposite the couch. A gauzy white curtain was blowing in the breeze, occasionally letting in a clear view of the starry night outside. I could see the moon and stars. The moon was huge.

In front of the moon ran two electrical wires. Both wires had plastic nodes on them. The plastic nodes flashed red and blue, in some kind of pattern. I had a feeling that this pattern had something to do with a new digital technology.

Suddenly President Obama began speaking. He may have been in the room or somewhere just outside the window, or he may have been transmitting his voice by whatever technology the electric lines and flashing lights were using.

President Obama was speaking about the Muppets character Fozzie Bear. Fozzie may have been Baby Fozzie, from the Muppet Babies. Obama said that Fozzie had had some specific reaction to the flashing lights. Because of this reaction, Obama discerned some kind of weakness in Fozzie's character.

Obama was planning to cut Fozzie from some kind of special program Fozzie (and possibly I and the other people in the room?) was involved with. Obama said something like, "If Fozzie feels bad about this project, then let him get out of it. Get him out of the project and let him go all the way back home."

I didn't think that was what Fozzie wanted, so I decided to stand up for him. I was going to make some point on behalf of Fozzie. I stood off of the couch and walked over to some conveyor belt system along the wall just past the side of the couch where my head had been. It was now daytime, and plenty of natural light was coming in through the high window.

I had to walk up a couple of steps to get to a platform where the conveyor belt ended. From this ending the conveyor belt went up toward the back wall. The conveyor belt may have been in two sections: a kind of flat section and a really steep section. There was an opening in the right wall about two meters away from me. Apparently, stuff got shoved out from that hole and then moved down or up the conveyor belt.

Somehow, instead of talking about Fozzie Bear, Obama (wherever he was) and I got to talking about the photographer Nan Goldin. There was going to be some kind of special exhibition of photography or some other kind of art. My works of art (???) were going to be included in this exhibition. I thought that the people who ran the exhibition should definitely give some kind of credit and thanks to Nan Goldin for the influence her works had on the art world.

As I was having this conversation, I had walked down from and back up to the conveyor belt platform a couple of times. The conveyor belt was now moving tiny crumbs of bread along toward me. I knew I had to catch the bread and do something with it. But I wasn't sure what.

Obama or somebody else now told me that Nan Goldin was actually going to have a new show soon. I was really excited to hear that. I had an idea of where it would be. It seemed like it was going to be in some big museum. But it also felt like it was going to be in a gallery.

I could see some of the photos in my mind's eye. I was disappointed by them. They were all blurry photos, apparently of items in grocery stores. The backgrounds were pink and blue, like colorfully painted walls in houses. In the foreground were vegetables or fruits, like clumps of bananas or asparagus. The blurriness of the photos made the clumps look really formless.

The photos were really boring. I was really disappointed by them. I kept hoping that there would be some other photos, photos of people, which I thought Goldin was so good at.

Dream #2

I was standing before a round dining table for maybe eight or ten people. The table was in a big, empty space like a restaurant that wasn't quite open for the day. The restaurant was bright and airy, like a big window-wall somewhere in the distance was letting in a lot of natural light.

Lieutenant Colonel Oliver North was sitting at the table. He was wearing nice, business casual style clothes: khaki slacks and a soft-fabric button-up shirt with a pink-and-blue plaid pattern. North had his chair pushed back from the table. I stood almost at North's right knee, pretty much in between North and the edge of the table.

North was talking to me about the upcoming Presidential election. He was speaking to me very gently and in a friendly manner. But he was trying very hard to persuade me to vote for Mitt Romney. Everything he said had an undertone of threat to it -- not like North would hurt me or mess up my life if I didn't vote for Romney, but like he'd stop having me for a friend, or he'd stop supporting me morally, if I didn't vote for Romney.

I didn't feel like being forced to vote or forced to talk about who I was going to vote for. I told North so, even though I was afraid that telling him so would make him angry with me. North didn't seem to mind very much. He leaned forward, kind of hunched over the table, and began pushing some stuff around on the table, maybe little cubed crumbs of bread.

Dream #3

I was in a laundry room. I had some clothes in the washer. The washer seemed to be high up, like it was on a tall set of shelves. The washer was a front-loading washer. In order to get to the door of the washer, I had to stand up on a chair or a stack of baskets or something.

Something was wrong with my laundry. It seemed like the clothes weren't washing. I climbed up to the laundry machine and looked in. It may have seemed like there was no water going into the machine. Somehow, though, I managed to make it so that water was going into the machine. The clothes got wet and then started spinning around.

But now my laundry was coming out of the top of the machine! I couldn't figure out what was making this happen. I climbed higher up, possibly even climbing onto the same shelf that the laundry machine was sitting on, and looked at the top of the laundry machine.

There was some kind of hole, like a hole for pouring in laundry detergent, on the top of the machine. But the hole was really big: maybe 30 cm long and 15 cm wide. Big items of laundry, like towels and even sheets, would fly out of the hole. I had to stuff them back in. But other things would fly out. I'm not sure how, but eventually I may have stopped everything from flying out.

Dream #4

It was a bright, sunny day. I was out on a sidewalk beside a wide, busy city street. Just off to my left was a sheltered bus stop. I was heading toward the street corner, then across the street, to one of a row of brownstone buildings where my psychiatrist's office was. I may have just gotten a new psychiatrist. This may have been the session where we were going to meet each other.

But I was now on the phone. I could see my psychiatrist, a young, pretty, blonde woman, sitting at the bus stop. I could also hear her on my phone. But she wasn't talking to me. She was talking to my old psychiatrist. They were having some discussion about some logistical issue.

The new psychiatrist thought I'd be late somewhere or that I'd have trouble paying a bill or something. None of this was true, but the new psychiatrist acted as if it were true. She told my old psychiatrist that that would be no problem. It would cause a delay in our meeting today, because my psychiatrist would have to go take care of some business before she met with me. I watched my psychiatrist stand up and walk across the street, as if she were going to take care of whatever the business was.

I couldn't believe she'd walked away. There was no business to take care of, since nothing was really wrong with the logistics of our meeting. But now, it seemed, I'd be delayed in meeting with my psychiatrist. I couldn't really believe this. I continued walking to the building. I was probably telling myself that really, after all, the psychiatrist would be in the building, ready for our first session. I hadn't really seen her walking away.

Dream #5

I was walking through some neighborhood near my house, though it was a really nice neighborhood. The neighborhood felt enclosed somehow, like a sound stage for a movie. I walked past one house with a brick-and-iron fence around it. The house seemed to have window walls all along its front, so I could easily see into it. It looked like a normal suburban house, but something about it seemed really nice.

I was in really bad condition financially and emotionally, and contrasting this nice neighborhood and house with my own emotions caused me to get really upset. My knees buckled and I fell to the ground.

I now saw a sign on the brick wall of the fence. It said "JOY HOUSE." I knew the "Joy" meant the "Joy" in the name of DK the department head for a company I used to work for. I didn't know my boss lived so close to me! I ran my finger along the letters of the sign. The letters were fashioned out of something like thin metal wire, like the metal of a clothes hanger.

I wondered if I might be able to visit DK. I knew she wasn't awake yet: the inactivity of the house suggested that everybody in DK's family was still asleep. I also wondered whether it would be inappropriate for me to try to meet with DK, anyway. After all, DK had a husband and family. Nobody else in the family knew me. Maybe nobody else in the family would accept me as a friend, like DK did.

But I now found myself inside the kitchen of the house. The kitchen seemed to be a little messy. There may have been a plastic (or metal?) table-top for a baby's high-chair on the kitchen counter.

Somewhere, on the counter or the table-top, there were crumbs, possibly bread crumbs. I decided I needed to clean up the messy kitchen. I may have decided to start with these crumbs. But, instead of cleaning the crumbs, I may have decided to start eating them.

diapered and pole walking; looking for quarters

Good morning, everybody

Dream #1

I was out in some area, maybe something like a parking lot or some kind of vacant lot with a really big ditch in it -- but I'm not sure. I think I felt like it was some kind of common social area, maybe even some place like a shopping plaza.

I was now turning back from this place, heading across the street to my apartment, which was in a tall complext of red brick buildings. It was dim, like it was late afternoon, and the air was damp and quiet.

A group of young people were heading in toward the ditch area as I was heading out of it. I may suddenly have noticed something really embarrassing about myself, like I was naked, or I was only wearing a diaper.

I felt like the young people, who all had a scrawny, kind of hungry look, were looking directly at me for one moment. I worried that they would get angry at me for wearing a diaper. In fact, they turned around and followed me back to the apartments. I knew they lived there, too.

Just past the first building in the complex was a big courtyard, surrounded by all the buildings. The courtyard was mostly made of concrete. It had multiple levels, all joined by wide, shallow staircases. There may have been picnic tables and barbequeque pits in places. The whole area, as well as the stairwells and balconies of the buildings, looked pretty run down. There were a lot of young people hanging around.

The young people behind me now passed me up. I had been a little worried that they'd been following me, stalking me so they could hurt me once they'd seen I'd been wearing a diaper. Even after they passed me, I was afraid of them. I thought they were just acting like they'd stopped stalking me, but that they would keep an eye on me, for the perfect time to hurt me.

They all walked so fast. I was afraid that they were far more physically fit than I was. One of the boys, a kind of scraggly-curly haired blonde boy wearing blue jeans and a Superman t-shirt, even jumped up from the concrete of the courtyard up to a second story balcony. I couldn't quite believe it. I had looked away. But when I looked again, he was still up there.

I was afraid and jealous. I tried to convince myself that I had that level of physical strength.

I walked past the courtyard. I was now in some back area, just past the back apartment buildings. I may have been heading to my apartment. The back area was very shaded, as if some highway overpass ran right next to the apartments and blocked the sky's light.

A black boy in his mid to late teens, very skinny, wearing a baggy, white shirt and baggy, tan pants, walked up to me. He was talking to me about one thing. But I knew he was just prepping me to talk about getting me involved in something else, something that could get me in trouble, like drugs.

We walked up some concrete, steel-railed staircase off to my left. I let the boy know, in the least offensive way possible, that I wasn't really looking to get involved in anything with anybody at the moment. I was afraid that the boy would want to hurt me from now on.

I suddenly jumped high up, onto some big, metal railing, like the railing that serves as barrier poles for highway edges. There seemed to be one road to my left, a ways below me, and then either one or two roads up above me. But I was in the open light, the light of grey midday, I think. I was balancing on the pole, walking along. I was surprised that I could jump like that. And I was surprised I could balance.

Dream #2

I was in my bedroom in my apartment. I was thinking I should do laundry, even though it was a weekday, and I usually did laundry on the weekends. But I thought I didn't have any quarters for the laundry machines. I didn't want to go out just to grab change. I hoped I could just find some change in my apartment.

I knelt down in my closet and saw that on the floor, right where the back wall met the floor. I had a stack of three or four quarters. I was really happy. This, added to the quarters I already knew I had, was almost enough for the laundry. But either it still wasn't quite enough, or else I felt like I should have more quarters, just to be on the safe side.

When I looked a bit farther to my left, about 20cm from the stack of quarters, I saw one or two stray quarters. I thought this might be enough for me to do my laundry with. I went to grab the quarters, when suddenly I heard a tapping on my ceiling.