rejected body switch; pink adult diapers; little girls at the theater; gigantic domed building

Dream 1

I was probably getting my body switched with someone. I don't know where we were. I was looking up, as if I were almost lying on the ground, toward a woman or a person who had been body-switched into a female body.

The person was bald. Her eyes were rather blank. The underside of her head exposed muscles, like the skin was gone, or like the skin was fabric or material that had run out while the body was being made or reconstructed. But the muscles were flesh-colored, not red and bloody. I probably saw all of this through a tangle of close, black wired.

I was now walking around outside, probably in some big parking lot. It was a sunny day. It was probably morning. But the sunlight was golden, like in late afternoon. The asphalt was dark black, like new.

I was out ahead of some other people. I looked behind to them. Among them was a woman who looked like a cyborg -- probably with a human head but a robotic body. I knew that woman had had her body switched with mine. She'd wanted to be a man, and I'd wanted to be a woman. So we'd switched bodies. But I think her new body wasn't taking so well, and there was a bad feeling that she might die.

I turned my head and started walking forward. I had some misgivings about my new body, too. I had a weird feeling around my jawline, like my face was starting to get rejected, like the tissue was starting to die. I'd be left without a face.

Now I was noticing how difficult it was to walk. It was like the muscles or tendons all around my hips, on the front of my body, were extremely weak. It was like the muscles or tendons were made out of garbage bags. I was more and more exhausted with each step I took.

My body was probably all some kind of black metal, just like the body of the person in the distance behind me. We apparently had real, human bodies -- each other's old bodies, in fact. But the bodies were also these strange, robotic bodies.

I wondered whether my legs weren't being rejected. Were my leg tissues dying? If so, I imagined, my whole body would likely die. However, I also thought that maybe my body was just healing after the body switch. It might take time for my body to get back to normal. But I didn't really know.

I was worried. But I figured that, regardless of what the truth was, I might as well just go about my daily life as if my body weren't going to fail. After all, I didn't want it to fail. I was finally in a woman's body. I could finally live life the way I wanted to.

I got to some place, probably my office, which was a weird, thin structure, like the stairwell up to the bridge-like overpasses that take you from train platform to train platform in railway stations. The inside was very dark, like the walls were all black. The stairway was black. It was also probably made of some kind of marble or granite. A lot of people filed into the building, a stream of business people heading to and up the stairs.

By now, the people who had been walking behind me in the parking lot, who were now likely the scientists who had performed the body switch, were ahead of me, a few steps up the stairway. I knew I needed to follow them so they could monitor my progress.

But I walked only a couple steps up the stairway before I got extremely exhausted. It was so hard to walk with these legs! I didn't think my heart would be able to handle getting all the way up the steps. I really did think now that my body was doomed to fail.

I stood down at the foot of the steps again. There may have been so many business people heading up the steps that it was hard for me not to be carried by their momentum into walking up the steps. But I was trying to figure out what I should do. Should I stay down here and try to find medical help?

I decided to start walking up the steps again. I needed to stay with the scientists. And if I was going to die, I might as well just keep on going, anyway. But maybe my body was just getting back to normal. I decided that what I would do is take each step very easily and slowly, so that I wouldn't put too much strain on myself. I figured that if I couldn't even handle the strain of walking slowly up the steps, I would make a new plan.

Dream 2

I was probably in my house. It may have been a bright day, or it may have been night, and I had lights on in my house. I stood in front of a white wardrobe I have in my living room for linens and cleaning supplies.

I opened the door to the wardrobe. Apparently there were adult baby diapers inside. As soon as I saw them, I was wearing them. I was naked, except for a pink pair of adult baby diapers.

I looked at myself in a mirror that was probably fixed to the back wall of the wardrobe. I was surprised by how good I looked. My body was skinny and smoothly muscular. The adult baby diapers also made my hips look nice.

I swayed my hips back and forth in the mirror. I then turned away from the mirror, probably heading toward my bedroom. I felt so sexy, I thought I would play out some sort of fantasy in my head.

Dream 3

I was probably backstage at some play or musical performance. I had probably come to see the performance. Maybe some of my friends were in it. But I had somehow ended up backstage, like I'd needed to help with things. And now, getting all mixed up in the things happening here, I couldn't be sure whether I'd get out to my seat on time to see things, or whether I'd miss finding out that the performance had been totally canceled.

At some point there was a bald, kind of heavy, white man with thick-rimmed glasses who stood above the rest of the working crowd. He probably had a megaphone. He giving the workers direction. Things were really starting to move now. So I felt like maybe we'd wrap up with whatever we were doing and I could get out into the audience in time for the start of the show.

As the man spoke, the crowd of workers became something more like a big sea of tables with people, like at a big bar or a big awards ceremony. But it also felt like a huge cafeteria or beer garden, with long rows of tables. The light was yellow-grey-green, but very warm-feeling. Everybody seemed like they were in a good mood -- like they were all out drinking and having a good time. I figured that everybody was relaxed enough that there was no doubt I'd be on time to see the show.

I walked a bit farther. I may have heard some voices. I was basically by myself now. I saw, off to my left, a group of people at a microphone. They were all reading a script. It was like they were speaking for people who were out on stage. I realized that the show had already started. But I wasn't here to see the whole show. I was just here to see an act.

I knew now that I was pretty far backstage. I wanted to walk up as close to the stage as I could to see what act was on, to figure whether I'd have enough time to get seated for the act I'd come to see. The backstage area was enormous: a huge, white room, with occasional stage-like black wires and metal frames hanging down here and there. But overall it looked more like the interior of a gigantic Spanish mission than the backstage of a theater.

I probably felt a flash of stage lights, like I was almost to the stage. I may even have imagined myself for a brief instant as the beautiful, 1940s-style starlet up on stage.

I was now looking through some sort of railing, like heavy, classical stone railing. On the other side of the railing was something like a church. A lot of people were seated in pews. But the pews really looked like booth tables at a restaurant. There was a gigantic room filled with these booth tables.

All of these people were here for the show, which hadn't started yet, and which was to be either a church service with a sermon by a really powerful speaker or some kind of performance by a Christian performance group that would visit churches. Everybody seemed very friendly. But they were all very Christian. So I knew they wouldn't like me if they got to know my personal beliefs and inclinations.

I focused on one particular booth table. It was up in some section of tables that was elevated about four or five feet above where I was standing. It was actually like a lot or all of the table areas were elevated about the walkway areas.

The man at the table, the father (the mother was probably there, too), was tall, muscular, white, but tanned like he did a lot of outdoor activity. He wore a t-shirt, green khaki shorts, and a pink, weathered baseball cap. I knew that if he met me, he'd probably like me for a second or two then decide not to like me, maybe because of my olive skin, maybe because he could sense some kind of weirdness about my sexuality. So I tried to stay out of his field of attention altogether.

The man was calling for his daughter. I thought I'd try to help find the man's daughter, but without drawing attention to myself. I saw the man's daughter somewhere. She was a young girl, pretty and blonde. She may have been really girly, with hair in poofy ringlets and wearing an old, frilly kind of dress.

I found the little girl very attractive. So I wanted to talk to her. But I knew that if the father saw me talking to the girl he'd really be angry at me and probably find ways to make me feel bullied, by him or others, for the rest of the time that I was here. But I still wanted to help the daughter get to the father. So I knew I needed to somehow get the girl's attention, then draw her attention back to her father. The girl may also have seen me and wanted to talk to me. But she may have been too shy.

I might simply have given up on talking to and helping the little girl. I may just have seen that there was no way I could win.

The walkways now all ended in something like a close, dim elevator lobby. The lobby had dark, rich carpet and dark, polished stone walls. The elevator doors were made of polished gold or brass. There were shiny, black panels that would occasionally display messages in red, digital lettering. It was like this was a hotel. But it was also like it had a museum or something in it.

Some people, mostly mothers, sat on the floor, playing with their kids or talking as their kids played about. There was one young girl I was attracted to for some reason. She was tall, olive-skinned like me, kind of heavy, with straight black hair. She wore a purple t-shirt and black sweats. I felt like she was maybe twelve years old, though she may have been as tall as or taller than I.

I tried to avoid looking at the girl. I didn't want to creep her out, and I didn't want the mothers to know I was attracted to her. I headed straight toward the elevator.

The mothers were talking about what the kids liked to do while they were at this building. The mother said, "She" (meaning the girl in the purple shirt) "loves to go with her aunt and shuttle all the way up to the 72nd floor! They do that as many times a day as they can."

I got really dizzy. I hadn't known this building was at least 72 stories tall! I had thought it was just a theater building. I also knew I was heading up the elevator. But I didn't know where to. I was suddenly really hesitant about even getting onto the elevator. Would I have to go up to the 72nd floor? Or even higher?

I started to justify everything. Just because the building was at least 72 stories tall, that didn't mean the place I was going to had to be that high up. I obviously didn't need to worry about it. So I felt better.

But then I got worried again. I thought, If I'm in a building that's 72 stories tall, if it falls, it will definitely crush me and kill me!

I was really dizzy now. I didn't want to get onto the elevator at all. I sat down in front of the doors.

The mothers were still talking about the girl's trips to the 72nd floor. They said, "She loves to go up there because there's a toy store up there."

I thought, Wow! If there's a toy store on the 72nd floor, I might like to go up there!

I looked over to the girl now. She was laying on her back, with her knees up in the air. I could see her crotch. I was turned on. So I quickly looked away.

The daughter suddenly became interested in me. She started wriggling her way toward me, staying in a kind of seated position on the floor. The mothers could also see that I was attracted to the girl. I tried to look away from the girl, tying to keep my attraction to her inconspicuous. But since the girl was obviously coming over to me, I wasn't going to ignore her. I would talk with her or play with her. Whatever she wanted to do.

The girl was, in fact, talking to me, maybe even about the toy store. But even though she was talking, kind of innocently, as she got very close to me, she spread her legs entirely. She lifted up her crotch and pointed it straight at me. I was now really attracted to the girl.

This building was a hotel. I wanted to take the girl into the elevator and up to my room right away. But as I kept looking at the girl, with her legs spread and crotch lifted up at me, I thought I might like to just lay down on top of her right now. I may have tried to figure out if there was a way I could do that without making the mothers think I was attracted to the girl.

Dream 4

I was out walking along a large street. It was a residential street, but it felt really big, like some of the streets on the crest of steep hills in San Francisco. But I probably thought I was "home," i.e. in Denver. The sky was a deep, electric blue. The houses themselves, possibly all row houses or apartments, had beige walls. But the beige was also a deep tan color, like the sunlight was soaking deep into everything and turning it into a much deeper, more electric color.

I was walking in one direction (either east or west). I knew I was heading away from downtown, likely away from downtown Denver. But in the distance I saw an enormous building with a cupola, like the Capitol building.

I knew the building couldn't be the Capitol. I was heading in the opposite direction. But I couldn't figure out what other building it could be. I was a bit worried and confused at first. How could I be seeing something I was supposed to be headed away from? But my mind was a little more at ease when I told myself the building simply couldn't be the Capitol.

The building was off in the distance, behind blocks and blocks of row houses or apartment buildings. But it was gigantic enough, still, to loom over all of them. The building was made of stone, like massy, muted stone. But it was blue, not grey. That was very interesting to me. Also, the dome, instead of being gold, was some strange kind of iridescent purple. It was so strange. I really wanted to see it up close!

I may have started telling myself that that building was in a different town, maybe even Austin, Texas. I may have told myself that I was actually walking into another town.

Some kids may have crossed the enormous street. They were a big school group, probably of early elementary school kids. They may all or mostly have been Hispanic. I had continued walking forward, so by the time they and their teachers had crossed the big street, they were walking behind me.

As we approached another intersection, I heard the kids speaking, either in Spanish, Japanese, or both Spanish and Japanese. I may have responded to something they'd said in Japanese as I'd passed them as they were still crossing the big street. They may have been impressed that I'd understood them. So they started talking about me, only indirectly, kind of curious whether I could still understand them.

As we crossed the intersection (the road we crossed was small, like a neighborhood road, not like the huge road on our right), I thought I'd say something to the kids to prove I could speak Japanese. I searched my mind for something to say. It was hard to figure out the words.

Then I turned around as I approached the opposite curb. I continued walking, though backwards, so I could keep facing the kids. As I started speaking, I noticed that my mouth was full of food. This would make it hard for me to speak and hard for the kids to understand me.

I said, "Genki desu ka?" The kids may have acknowledged me a little.

As I turned around and started walking forward again, one of the kids said, in English, "That means, 'I am very well.'"

I was pretty sure that that wasn't what I had said. But at least I had somewhat proven to the kids that I could speak their language.

In the distance, and down a slope that we had now approached, I saw a big, obelisk-like monument. It was in a small patch of drying, dead lawn that was bordered by a heavy, grey, stone fence. I felt like the big monument might have something to do with the gigantic, purple-domed building in the distance. So I really, really wanted to see it. It would help me figure out where I really was.

Suddenly I was flying over the road and down toward the monument. Some of the kids remarked in English that I should keep on flying and get to the monument quicker because it was a really interesting spot.

I flew over the plot of land that the monument was in. An old woman was out walking two animals, possibly a dog and a sheep. I was trying to land. But it seemed like anyway I would land would basically lead to me landing on and killing the sheep.

There were some other people near the monument -- maybe residents and some tourists. At least one woman remarked on my difficult situation. She could tell that I didn't want to kill the sheep. Yet she could see that if I landed, I'd likely kill the sheep and make it look like I had meant to do so.

I floated up and over toward the monument. I was in some weird state right now -- not quite landing, but no longer really able to fly. But I also had a hard time directing my motion at all. I could tell there was some sort of plaque, either on the monument or on a staircase leading up to the monument. I was trying to get to the plaque so I could read it and figure out where I was.

I may eventually have bobbed and floated my way over to the plaque, wherever it was. But I was still so bad at guiding myself that I was just facing away from the plaque! I couldn't turn myself around so I could actually read it!

I may possibly at this point have been carried away, as if by a gust of wind, toward the gigantic, purple-domed building. I may have resigned myself to my condition by now. I figured I'd learn where I really was soon enough. I may still have thought I was in Austin. But I may also have thought I was in some Mexican or Latin American city.

At some point I may have seen the huge building again, as if I were floating in the sky above it, though it was still in the distance. But I may have seen above it an image of a gigantic puff of popcorn and a gigantic image of one of the Jeff Koons balloon animal sculptures.

liquefied soldiers; little girl and mannequin

Dream 1

I was possibly part of some group like a military group that was fighting some kind of alien or monster. Or I may have been just a normal person who had been drawn into fighting these beings by necessity. I may have had a machine gun or something like a gun: a weapon that would possibly destroy whatever creatures we were fighting.

I believe that the aliens worked by taking over a human body. They would basically liquefy the body. The liquefied humans may afterward have appeared in their human form again, though they would now be the aliens. But they may also have disappeared altogether.

I stood outside, in some place like a hilly area, like in a town, during the daytime. But the place felt trashed. There were probably cardboard boxes everywhere. But there were also probably blankets and other kinds of bedding everywhere. There may also have been cradles and other items from a nursery.

I stood under some kind of structure -- like just a big piece of wood hanging over the place where I was standing -- a blanket-strewn street or something like that. The area I was in was completely deserted. I'd come here with a group of folks. But apparently they were all now dead. I hadn't known it until now. I realized they'd all been liquefied and had disappeared.

Now two, or maybe three, soldiers entered my field of view. They probably hadn't been a part of the group I'd been with. But now it was like I'd been a part of their group the entire time. But it was also like they were a new group and they'd seen the awful way I'd worked with my previous group.

I felt like this new group of soldiers thought I'd purposely let my old group all get liquefied. I may also have felt like they thought I'd just been so incompetent or new to things that I'd clumsily let my whole group get liquefied. I tried to prove myself to the new group of soldiers by telling them about work positions I'd had in the past.

As I spoke with the soldiers, our position changed. At first we were standing under a structure that looked like a bunk bed -- as if we were somehow all standing on the bottom bunk, which was big enough to hold all of us, and which was tall enough for all of us to stand up without hitting our heads on the underside of the top bunk. But then it was like we were all sitting or laying on the top bunk, though we had to slouch really low, as the ceiling of the room we were in was so close, sloped somehow like the ceiling of a commercial airliner. And then it was like we were in some sort of military aircraft.

As I spoke with the soldiers, it was also less like I was just telling them things of my own accord and more like I was being asked things. There was a female soldier who seemed to sympathize with me. The other two (?) soldiers, at least one of them male, didn't seem to care much about me one way or the other. But the female soldier wanted to ask me questions to figure out what I'd really done in my life, to prove to herself, me, and the other soldiers that I could do my job and protect them against getting liquefied.

As I continued talking, the soldiers now may all have been on the other side of the bed, standing down on the floor. We may have been inside some large military aircraft. Or we may have been inside some large building, like a military aircraft hangar. I may still have been sitting on the top bunk of the bunk bed, which may have been elevated quite a ways above the soldiers.

 Dream 2

A pretty little girl was on a bed. I was probably taking sexy photos of her. She was cute, blonde. She probably wore some skimpy, white clothing, almost like underwear or lingerie. The bed was clothed in a bunch of white sheets and maybe white blankets, which were all rumpled up on the bed. The room was all white, with some bright, gentle daylight coming in through a window.

The little girl and I spoke as I took photos of her. But I'm not sure what we spoke about. I may have been telling her how to pose in order to look sexier. But I may also have been talking to her about some random stuff, to kind of give her confidence in my past experience, so that she'd feel assured that I could take pictures of her that would look sexy and not stupid or boring.

There was now a white mannequin in bed with the little girl. The mannequin was of a full-grown woman, in the typical model-thin style. The mannequin may have had "hair" made out of some orange material, possibly orange tulle, possibly some sort of organic or faux-organic material, like orange faux branches and blossoms, or branches with orange-colored blossoms on them.

The mannequin was most likely inanimate. But it also changed its position. It was in at least two positions: a seated or kneeling position, and a sexy crawling position. The little girl would weave and writhe in a sexy way around the mannequin's body. As she did so, I directed her, again, possibly by just talking to her about my past experience, or talking to her about stuff that happened in my or maybe her day-to-day life.

At one point the little girl emerged from behind the mannequin, but also out from under a comfy, white blanket. At this point I felt like the little girl would start making some really sexy poses. So I tried to give her some really good direction that would make her feel secure that I knew what I was talking about.

The mannequin was now stretched out in her slinky, sexy crawl. I was trying to imagine the best way to tell the little girl to get underneath the mannequin, so it looked like the two of them were laying with each other. But I might not have been able to find the right words to say.

At this point it may all have seemed imaginary to me, like I wasn't really seeing any of this, and that I was just trying really hard to retain my memory of it and to keep that memory moving forward so I could make the little girl and the mannequin do the sexy poses I'd been aiming to see.

bad cosmic aim; wrong salute

Dream 1

I somehow blasted up away from the earth and into outer space. I was probably blasting through space at a high speed. I probably ended up flying into some really colorful area, like a nebula of rainbows.

But then something happened. I may have decided to turn around. Or I may have lost my momentum -- as if somehow gravity was still working and I'd kind of hit the top of my arc and was now coming back down.

I was now rocketing back toward the earth. The earth was surrounded by rainbow clouds like the nebulae I'd just rocketed into. As I got closer to the earth, the clouds dissipated a bit, but never totally. The earth itself looked like a globe full of cities. The closer I got, the more the earth just looked like a network of lit up cities at night.

I was speeding toward the earth. I felt like I was being pretty strongly pulled. But I also knew that I had to steer myself correctly if I wanted to get home. I steered sharply as I approached the earth. I could probably see Colorado, as if it were on a map.

I finally landed. I lay face down on the floor of a gigantic room. The floor was the map of a section of the United States. I pushed myself up. I saw that I had landed in Colorado, though I had landed a bit southwest of my hometown of Denver.

I pushed myself up on my arms and looked off to my right. I told the person standing way out there -- maybe my mom? -- that I had gotten close but hadn't hit the target.

Dream 2

I was in some sort of room. It felt sort of crowded, like I was standing in between two rows of folding tables with tons of stuff on them -- maybe like at a comic book convention, except that all of the stuff felt like it was packed up. Off behind me was a doorway, maybe to something like a fake pyramid, like in a museum exhibit.

A young guy was facing me. We had probably just finished up a conversation. I was hoping to get the guy's approval. I was a little afraid that I would look stupid or ill-informed in front of him. He was white, clean, well-groomed, like a young professional just out of college.

To say goodbye to the guy I backed away from him a few steps, crossed my arms over my chest, said, "Wakanda forever," and lay down on the ground.

The guy walked past me. He somehow tapped or hit my arms, maybe with his feet, but probably with his hands. He pushed my arms, still crossed in an x, off my chest and over to my right side. He said that I'd mistakenly made a gesture toward him that was in support of black people. Crossing my arms off to the right, however, was a gesture in support of white people. And that was what the man had wanted to see.

The man walked into the doorway. I now understood that the man was a white supremacist. I was afraid that he'd want to kill me, now that I'd made a gesture in support of black people. I thought I could make the gesture in support of white people the next time I saw him. Maybe that would make him less angry toward me. But I knew I couldn't do that, either. I was at a loss. I felt like I couldn't do anything at all.

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.

brother runs faster than i

Dream 1

It was a golden afternoon. I was out with my little brother, walking along a path bordered by thin strips of lawn, possibly near some kind of suburban shopping center. Some thick, brown leafs occasionally dotted the lawn. The lawn and path probably had a kind of busy road next to it.

My brother were walking at a relaxed pace. Then we realized we needed to get somewhere. So I started running. My brother started running, too. He pulled ahead of me. I kind of got the feeling that he felt like I had been trying to run faster than him, so he needed to run faster than me.

We stopped running. Then we ended up across a street. We needed to cross the street -- which basically put us back near the shopping center area, just on another side of it.

Again, I felt that we needed to move quickly, to get across the street before more cars came, but also to get wherever we needed to go. So I started to run across the street. My brother ran up from behind me and passed me. He didn't look like my brother. He was tall, pale, with a short haircut. He wore a blue sweatshirt and something like grey long johns.

We were across the street. There was no path now. The space between the shopping center's back wall (or maybe just a big brick wall for a gated community or something?) was now all lawn, dotted by thick, brown leafs.

My brother was still running, a few meters ahead of me. I figured I would keep running and try to keep up with him. I wasn't sure how well I'd do. I was already winded. But I figured I'd keep running as long as I could.

But now my brother stopped running. I jogged the rest of the way to catch up with him.

Quick message

Hello everybody,

I am back after a five-year hiatus. I would like to start entering my dreams in my dream journal again. We'll see whether I manage to do this.

Thank you, and enjoy.

Preemie