Dream 1
It was a bright, sunny day was out on a huge highway, possibly just floating over the highway, or possibly in some sort of floating vehicle that was just like the chassis of a car, but with no wheels, just floating over the highway. There may have been other gigantic highways in the distance, winding over and under the one I floated along.
I may have had an image in my head of a local politician, JP, with whom I may have been scheduled to have some sort of conversation. I may also have seen or imagined the image of JP on some sort of small screen, like a TV screen that was set into the dashboard of some vehicle I was imagining.
Now that I'd seen/imagined this image of JP, I knew I really needed to start driving. Suddenly a shell of a vehicle snapped down around the chassis-like vehicle I was floating in. The shell of the vehicle may have been either silver or black. It may have looked like the body of a nice car, maybe a Mercedes, except just a little bit more flattened out, rounded out, and futuristic. And the car was still a floating car.
It was now like I was racing another car, possibly even the car owned by JP. If I drove the black car, JP drove the silver car, and vice versa. But it may also have been like I was simply following the other car, which may have been driven by JP, but was more likely driven by one of his staff members, so I could get to the meeting with JP. But it may also have been like I was simply aware of the car's existence, like I was somehow following some path it may once have taken, so I could get to the meeting with JP.
I sped up and was going down the highway really quickly. The highway had been in some sort of shallowly ascending, plateau-like stretch of arc. But now I turned a sharp left, and the highway started descending somewhat steeply.
At this point I lost control of the vehicle. It just kind of slowly veered down the ramp of highway, down to something like an intersection on a regular stretch of road. The crossing of the intersection was another highway-like road. High above the intersection, maybe 30 meters up, was another gigantic arc of highway. And beyond the intersection were blocks of warehouses or small factory buildings, some of them made of red brick.
The car slumped to a stop, possibly dropping from its hovering position down to the ground, on the left corner of the street. I may have called someone to pick me up or to help the car get started back up. I may also have been wondering how long it would now take me to get to the meeting. If I had to walk it would take me forever.
I probably also thought that JP would now think I was totally unreliable and not worth paying attention to. I couldn't even keep my car in shape long enough to get to this one single meeting on time. Maybe I wouldn't even get there at all!
Monday, June 25, 2018
Friday, June 22, 2018
not-so-sharp-dressed man
Dream 1
I was probably in front of a mirror in some room that looked like a changing room with a bed in it. Some of the sheets may have lain sloppily off the bed, even spilling down onto the floor. The bed may also have been set up on a platform, like a display platform for a department store.
I was changing into some new clothes. I was putting on baby blue slacks and a baby blue button-up shirt. The breast pocket and the collar, and maybe other parts, of the shirt were lined with some rainbow-striped fabric.
At first I thought I looked good: very stylish and unique. But then I started to wonder about the shirt. It seemed kind of big, and I wasn't sure whether I should tuck it in or leave it untucked. I thought that it must be the style of shirt that you leave untucked. But I also thought that it looked sloppy untucked. But I thought that if I tucked it in to look less sloppy, it would look all huge and fat, which would be just as bad.
But I hadn't put on my slacks all the way yet. I thought that I'd want to at least wait and see how I looked with my slacks all the way pulled up and buttoned before I decided whether I needed to tuck in my shirt.
But when I looked at myself in the mirror with my baby blue slacks and shirt I thought I looked sort of awful. The blue was so bright and garish that I looked sort of hilarious. I may have noticed that the material of the slacks and shirt was like some kind of thin velvet.
I may have thought that I needed to change out of this outfit. But I may have wondered if I had anything else to change into. I had changed so I would look nice. And this was the outfit I had chosen. Were there any other outfits? Should I just go with this one? Was I just wasting my time worrying about outfits at this point? Had I wasted my time altogether by getting into this outfit?
I was probably in front of a mirror in some room that looked like a changing room with a bed in it. Some of the sheets may have lain sloppily off the bed, even spilling down onto the floor. The bed may also have been set up on a platform, like a display platform for a department store.
I was changing into some new clothes. I was putting on baby blue slacks and a baby blue button-up shirt. The breast pocket and the collar, and maybe other parts, of the shirt were lined with some rainbow-striped fabric.
At first I thought I looked good: very stylish and unique. But then I started to wonder about the shirt. It seemed kind of big, and I wasn't sure whether I should tuck it in or leave it untucked. I thought that it must be the style of shirt that you leave untucked. But I also thought that it looked sloppy untucked. But I thought that if I tucked it in to look less sloppy, it would look all huge and fat, which would be just as bad.
But I hadn't put on my slacks all the way yet. I thought that I'd want to at least wait and see how I looked with my slacks all the way pulled up and buttoned before I decided whether I needed to tuck in my shirt.
But when I looked at myself in the mirror with my baby blue slacks and shirt I thought I looked sort of awful. The blue was so bright and garish that I looked sort of hilarious. I may have noticed that the material of the slacks and shirt was like some kind of thin velvet.
I may have thought that I needed to change out of this outfit. But I may have wondered if I had anything else to change into. I had changed so I would look nice. And this was the outfit I had chosen. Were there any other outfits? Should I just go with this one? Was I just wasting my time worrying about outfits at this point? Had I wasted my time altogether by getting into this outfit?
Wednesday, June 20, 2018
the mystery of the broken vase
Dream 1
A view looking across a street. I'm not sure if I was physically there or if I just sort of had a floating view of the scene. The street was the street in front of the property my mom's boyfriend JT lived at while I was growing up.
My view floated across the street, first toward a couple of people, maybe a mother and a son wrapped up in a blanket, who sat in some tall grass near a small irrigation ditch. But then it floated off toward the right, perhaps like it was following the irrigation ditch along the road.
As my view floated across the street, I could hear (and maybe see, somewhere else), Donald Trump talking about some mystery. Apparently the mystery ended with a shattered vase. The vase was made of some green-painted porcelain that was lined either with gold or with gold-painted porcelain.
Donald Trump said, maybe to TV reporters or some audience being filmed for TV, that he didn't understand what people's problem with his presidency was. After all, he was giving them all kinds of exciting mysteries, like the mystery of the broken vase, wasn't he?
As my view floated along the ditch, I thought to myself that, yeah, the broken vase mystery was fine. The broken vase was kind of interesting in itself. And it was harmless. And maybe if things just stayed at stuff like a broken vase mystery, people would have fun with Trump's presidency. But he was actually ruining lives. And there was no good perspective from which to look at that fact.
A view looking across a street. I'm not sure if I was physically there or if I just sort of had a floating view of the scene. The street was the street in front of the property my mom's boyfriend JT lived at while I was growing up.
My view floated across the street, first toward a couple of people, maybe a mother and a son wrapped up in a blanket, who sat in some tall grass near a small irrigation ditch. But then it floated off toward the right, perhaps like it was following the irrigation ditch along the road.
As my view floated across the street, I could hear (and maybe see, somewhere else), Donald Trump talking about some mystery. Apparently the mystery ended with a shattered vase. The vase was made of some green-painted porcelain that was lined either with gold or with gold-painted porcelain.
Donald Trump said, maybe to TV reporters or some audience being filmed for TV, that he didn't understand what people's problem with his presidency was. After all, he was giving them all kinds of exciting mysteries, like the mystery of the broken vase, wasn't he?
As my view floated along the ditch, I thought to myself that, yeah, the broken vase mystery was fine. The broken vase was kind of interesting in itself. And it was harmless. And maybe if things just stayed at stuff like a broken vase mystery, people would have fun with Trump's presidency. But he was actually ruining lives. And there was no good perspective from which to look at that fact.
Tuesday, June 19, 2018
wrong way in circles; mom on a limb; grocery theater
Dream 1
I was out on a road, probably in a mountain town, like a residential neighborhood in a forest. I was probably trying to get somewhere fast. I was probably in a car, though I may possibly have been on foot, running. The road may have had a few other cars on it.
I knew the road I was on was a big circle, like some kind of circle made specifically for whatever residential community had been developed out here. I had probably been traveling along the road clockwise at first. But now I was going counterclockwise. I was trying to take the quickest way to get off of this circle and onto the main highway, so I could get wherever I was going quickly.
But just as I was approaching the base of the circle, where the forest became a lot less dense, and where there were more houses, and maybe even something like a strip mall or shopping center, I realized that the road had recently been turned from a two-way to a one-way street. So, even though I was now relatively close to the main highway, I would now have to turn around and go clockwise, almost the entire length of the circle, to get to where I could legally get onto the main highway.
I was discouraged. I may already have felt like I was late. And now I'd lost even more time and would have to spend even more time getting myself in the right direction. I probably felt like I had basically failed at getting wherever I was supposed to be. But I turned around, anyway, and started heading clockwise on the circular road.
Dream 2
I was outside, in front of a tall house. It was probably early evening, just after sunset. The atmosphere was a dim, cool blue.
I could see over the roof and behind the house. I may actually somehow have been floating above the roof. The roof was probably flat, though tiered, and maybe made out of some kind of silvery or white material. There was a big tree, maybe like a London Plane Tree, just behind the house, so that the top of the tree's canopy went above the roof, and maybe even touched the roof a little.
My mom was on the roof, probably with a couple other people, probably including her old friend, TH. Everybody was spaced widely apart on the roof. But they all seemed to be walking toward the canopy of the tree.
My mom was really close to the tree. She was, in fact, going to walk along the limbs of the tree. Even though the tree was completely barren of leafs, it had a few big, round globes of fruit, maybe like Osage-orange fruit, hanging from the limbs and branches. My mom was going to pick the fruit. We may have thought of the fruit as pears.
I didn't want my mom out climbing these tree limbs. My mom thought the limbs were sturdy. But I knew they were weak. They were also really high in the air. I was certain that if my mom went out on the limbs, the limbs would break, and my mom would fall to her death. I could see that TH, who was kind of big and heavy, was also planning to climb the tree. I knew for sure that if both my mom and TH were on the tree, the tree would break and send my mom crashing to the ground.
I yelled at my mom not to climb the tree. But she already seemed to be doing it. She seemed to be fine. But she hadn't gotten to the really narrow limbs yet. She called for me to help her pick the fruit. But I wasn't going to encourage her to climb the tree by going out there as well.
I wasn't going to stick around to watch this. I yelled at my mom that I was going to go to the movie theater and watch a movie. I could see, from my floating viewpoint, myself walking down the block (sort of like the block we used to live on when I was in high school).
My mom called after me, somehow implying -- not with anything she said, but more like with the tone of her voice -- that if I didn't come back she'd actually try to fall from the tree and die. But I could see myself still walking away -- my view looking down on myself while it still floated in front of the house, just above the roof.
I thought to myself that I wasn't going to let my mom stop me. I told myself to face the possibility that when I got back home I would find the tree canopy broken and my mom dead on the ground. If that's what I found when I arrived back home, I'd just have to accept it. I wouldn't let myself feel guilty about my mom's choices, even if she'd made them expressly to spite me.
Dream 3
I was at a movie theater, probably with either my family or some friends. We stood in line at the ticket booth, which was in a small lobby at the front of the building. The lobby mostly had window-walls that looked out onto a sidewalk and parking lot, which was probably part of some strip mall.
There was something weird about the situation, like maybe we were coming to see the movie at an odd time of day, like ten o'clock in the morning, when the movie theater would normally not be open; or like we were here at a normal time of day, but maybe on a strange day when the movie theater would usually be closed; or maybe even like we had come to the theater when it was under construction, but we were being allowed to go in anyway, for a special screening or something.
I may have been myself, but I may have been really short, like I was a child. I may only have come up to the waist of my friends/family and all the other people in line. Or I may have been my normal height, just about the same height as everybody else, but the ticket booth or counter may have been really tall.
Nevertheless, I was also sort of like the leader of my group for this event. I knew everything that was going on with this unique situation and was helping everybody else through it. But everybody else may also have been a little skeptical of the situation, or at least of my ability to handle it. But I tried not to notice their skepticism.
The woman at the ticket booth may have started telling me about something bad that had happened here. The night before, someone had busted one of the windows that fronted the main lobby, right near the far end of the main lobby, and had gotten into the lobby and either vandalized or stolen something of high value. The woman explained that now the theater would be mostly concerned with fixing that issue, not with screening movies.
But we were here for a special screening, and the woman let us in. I may have felt bad. I was really excited to see this special screening. And I knew that now the screening would probably not look so great, as the projector folks wouldn't be very focused on the screening. But I hoped they would be focused on the screening, even though I knew that hope was kind of selfish.
My family/friends and I walked into the main lobby, which was wide and long, with tall ceilings, like a big lobby for a large hotel or even a convention center.
As we walked in, a few Hispanic ladies were walking in front of us. One of them chuckled boastingly that she'd gotten a good deal out of the movie theater. Apparently her company had been assigned to fix whatever the problem was. And she'd made a good $150 (?) off of the project.
It may even somehow have been implied that the woman's friends or company had made the problem themselves, so they could profit off of it. I thought that was kind of shady and underhanded. But I didn't say anything. I felt like the woman may have said all of this in front of me so I would hear her and criticize her. She wanted to start a fight with me. So I'd just ignore her and hope she'd leave me alone.
I, the Hispanic ladies, and probably my family/friends were all now at the end of some long black bench that backed against the wall, which was lined with black-painted metal lockers, like high school lockers, all the way to the long, black counter of the concession stand. We all may have had to do something like take off our shoes, as well as maybe put something on that looked like virtual reality goggles or weird, visor-like sunglasses, before we headed into the movies.
We finished whatever we had to do and walked past the wall and into a dark, black-walled hallway. My family/friends were now like an Hispanic family.
Almost immediately, the hallway became like the hallway for a small mall. We were all headed to our specific theater. But eventually we may have forgotten about the theater altogether.
The mall corridor was crowded, busy, and lively. I kept looking at all the storefronts. We passed one storefront which was actually a grocery store that had just gone out of business. The storefront gave a full view of the store. The entire floor was emptied out. But all along the three walls, the shelves (and maybe refrigeration walls and meat counters) were filled with items. There were handmade signs near the tops of the walls, advertising 15% to 20% off on a lot of items.
I was with a lot of young, Hispanic girls. One of the girls giggled and said how stupid it was for the grocery store to be advertising such a big sale on their items, especially as they were closing. But I couldn't figure out why it was bad to advertise the sale. Was it because all the goods had already gone bad?
I looked away from the storefront. The mall hallway was now the inside of a big grocery store, maybe like a Super Walmart or Super Target. There were a lot of people in here, too, though this place may also have been sort of hollowed out, like it was going out of business and shelves were just being removed as all the inventory on the shelves was being bought. However, my group and I may have been looking for the checkout area, so we could buy whatever we were looking for (maybe like it was just waiting for us at the checkout stand???) and leave.
I was out on a road, probably in a mountain town, like a residential neighborhood in a forest. I was probably trying to get somewhere fast. I was probably in a car, though I may possibly have been on foot, running. The road may have had a few other cars on it.
I knew the road I was on was a big circle, like some kind of circle made specifically for whatever residential community had been developed out here. I had probably been traveling along the road clockwise at first. But now I was going counterclockwise. I was trying to take the quickest way to get off of this circle and onto the main highway, so I could get wherever I was going quickly.
But just as I was approaching the base of the circle, where the forest became a lot less dense, and where there were more houses, and maybe even something like a strip mall or shopping center, I realized that the road had recently been turned from a two-way to a one-way street. So, even though I was now relatively close to the main highway, I would now have to turn around and go clockwise, almost the entire length of the circle, to get to where I could legally get onto the main highway.
I was discouraged. I may already have felt like I was late. And now I'd lost even more time and would have to spend even more time getting myself in the right direction. I probably felt like I had basically failed at getting wherever I was supposed to be. But I turned around, anyway, and started heading clockwise on the circular road.
Dream 2
I was outside, in front of a tall house. It was probably early evening, just after sunset. The atmosphere was a dim, cool blue.
I could see over the roof and behind the house. I may actually somehow have been floating above the roof. The roof was probably flat, though tiered, and maybe made out of some kind of silvery or white material. There was a big tree, maybe like a London Plane Tree, just behind the house, so that the top of the tree's canopy went above the roof, and maybe even touched the roof a little.
My mom was on the roof, probably with a couple other people, probably including her old friend, TH. Everybody was spaced widely apart on the roof. But they all seemed to be walking toward the canopy of the tree.
My mom was really close to the tree. She was, in fact, going to walk along the limbs of the tree. Even though the tree was completely barren of leafs, it had a few big, round globes of fruit, maybe like Osage-orange fruit, hanging from the limbs and branches. My mom was going to pick the fruit. We may have thought of the fruit as pears.
I didn't want my mom out climbing these tree limbs. My mom thought the limbs were sturdy. But I knew they were weak. They were also really high in the air. I was certain that if my mom went out on the limbs, the limbs would break, and my mom would fall to her death. I could see that TH, who was kind of big and heavy, was also planning to climb the tree. I knew for sure that if both my mom and TH were on the tree, the tree would break and send my mom crashing to the ground.
I yelled at my mom not to climb the tree. But she already seemed to be doing it. She seemed to be fine. But she hadn't gotten to the really narrow limbs yet. She called for me to help her pick the fruit. But I wasn't going to encourage her to climb the tree by going out there as well.
I wasn't going to stick around to watch this. I yelled at my mom that I was going to go to the movie theater and watch a movie. I could see, from my floating viewpoint, myself walking down the block (sort of like the block we used to live on when I was in high school).
My mom called after me, somehow implying -- not with anything she said, but more like with the tone of her voice -- that if I didn't come back she'd actually try to fall from the tree and die. But I could see myself still walking away -- my view looking down on myself while it still floated in front of the house, just above the roof.
I thought to myself that I wasn't going to let my mom stop me. I told myself to face the possibility that when I got back home I would find the tree canopy broken and my mom dead on the ground. If that's what I found when I arrived back home, I'd just have to accept it. I wouldn't let myself feel guilty about my mom's choices, even if she'd made them expressly to spite me.
Dream 3
I was at a movie theater, probably with either my family or some friends. We stood in line at the ticket booth, which was in a small lobby at the front of the building. The lobby mostly had window-walls that looked out onto a sidewalk and parking lot, which was probably part of some strip mall.
There was something weird about the situation, like maybe we were coming to see the movie at an odd time of day, like ten o'clock in the morning, when the movie theater would normally not be open; or like we were here at a normal time of day, but maybe on a strange day when the movie theater would usually be closed; or maybe even like we had come to the theater when it was under construction, but we were being allowed to go in anyway, for a special screening or something.
I may have been myself, but I may have been really short, like I was a child. I may only have come up to the waist of my friends/family and all the other people in line. Or I may have been my normal height, just about the same height as everybody else, but the ticket booth or counter may have been really tall.
Nevertheless, I was also sort of like the leader of my group for this event. I knew everything that was going on with this unique situation and was helping everybody else through it. But everybody else may also have been a little skeptical of the situation, or at least of my ability to handle it. But I tried not to notice their skepticism.
The woman at the ticket booth may have started telling me about something bad that had happened here. The night before, someone had busted one of the windows that fronted the main lobby, right near the far end of the main lobby, and had gotten into the lobby and either vandalized or stolen something of high value. The woman explained that now the theater would be mostly concerned with fixing that issue, not with screening movies.
But we were here for a special screening, and the woman let us in. I may have felt bad. I was really excited to see this special screening. And I knew that now the screening would probably not look so great, as the projector folks wouldn't be very focused on the screening. But I hoped they would be focused on the screening, even though I knew that hope was kind of selfish.
My family/friends and I walked into the main lobby, which was wide and long, with tall ceilings, like a big lobby for a large hotel or even a convention center.
As we walked in, a few Hispanic ladies were walking in front of us. One of them chuckled boastingly that she'd gotten a good deal out of the movie theater. Apparently her company had been assigned to fix whatever the problem was. And she'd made a good $150 (?) off of the project.
It may even somehow have been implied that the woman's friends or company had made the problem themselves, so they could profit off of it. I thought that was kind of shady and underhanded. But I didn't say anything. I felt like the woman may have said all of this in front of me so I would hear her and criticize her. She wanted to start a fight with me. So I'd just ignore her and hope she'd leave me alone.
I, the Hispanic ladies, and probably my family/friends were all now at the end of some long black bench that backed against the wall, which was lined with black-painted metal lockers, like high school lockers, all the way to the long, black counter of the concession stand. We all may have had to do something like take off our shoes, as well as maybe put something on that looked like virtual reality goggles or weird, visor-like sunglasses, before we headed into the movies.
We finished whatever we had to do and walked past the wall and into a dark, black-walled hallway. My family/friends were now like an Hispanic family.
Almost immediately, the hallway became like the hallway for a small mall. We were all headed to our specific theater. But eventually we may have forgotten about the theater altogether.
The mall corridor was crowded, busy, and lively. I kept looking at all the storefronts. We passed one storefront which was actually a grocery store that had just gone out of business. The storefront gave a full view of the store. The entire floor was emptied out. But all along the three walls, the shelves (and maybe refrigeration walls and meat counters) were filled with items. There were handmade signs near the tops of the walls, advertising 15% to 20% off on a lot of items.
I was with a lot of young, Hispanic girls. One of the girls giggled and said how stupid it was for the grocery store to be advertising such a big sale on their items, especially as they were closing. But I couldn't figure out why it was bad to advertise the sale. Was it because all the goods had already gone bad?
I looked away from the storefront. The mall hallway was now the inside of a big grocery store, maybe like a Super Walmart or Super Target. There were a lot of people in here, too, though this place may also have been sort of hollowed out, like it was going out of business and shelves were just being removed as all the inventory on the shelves was being bought. However, my group and I may have been looking for the checkout area, so we could buy whatever we were looking for (maybe like it was just waiting for us at the checkout stand???) and leave.
Monday, June 18, 2018
the cornell experiment
Dream 1
I had come into an office, probably as a temporary receptionist or something. I sat down at some cubicle. It was the beginning of the day. The office floor was dim, like there were no lights on, but blue daylight was coming through some window walls in the distance, and maybe from some window-walled alcove behind me.
I may have felt a little impatient that it was just the beginning of the day. I may already have felt annoyed at having to sit at this cubicle desk all day long, doing nothing and probably being treated nicely but sort of condescendingly by the other people in the office.
I was probably myself. But I may also either have been a really sexy, girly woman wearing sexy office girl clothes without really noticing it. I may also simply have been wearing the sexy office girl clothes without noticing it. Or I may have been wearing some scrapped-out girl clothes (the ones I sometimes wear for my masturbation fantasies in waking life) without noticing it.
I was probably thinking about the path my professional life had taken. I was disappointed with myself. I had worked a lot and done a lot of great things. But somehow I'd thrown it all away and was back at the start again, working as a temporary receptionist. I may have wondered if there wasn't some quick way I could get myself back to where I'd been.
I looked off to my left. Beyond some glass walls was another room that may have looked like a library or a set of book stacks. I probably felt like whatever was in those books related to some kind of strong interest I'd had in my previous professional work. I decided to go there, so I could look into my old professional interests, just for my own sake.
As I walked into the room, I saw, beyond a few rows of bookshelves, MM, someone from one of the first professional positions to start my serious career life (back in 2005), sitting at something like a microfiche machine. MM looked up from her machine and saw me, too.
I maybe walked behind one of the bookshelves, possibly thoughtlessly, but possibly on purpose. I may have seen a desk, like a receptionist's desk, that I thought I needed to sit at. It was like my job now took place in this room instead of the other room.
MM called out to some other folks. She said she'd spotted me. She told the people that they should follow me and try to get me involved in whatever project they were working on. She said I was the kind of person that, once people had me on their team, they would just start winning all the time.
But I was now laying in a bed in between one of the book stacks and a window wall looking into the other office area. I wasn't wearing a shirt. And the only thing I wore around my lower body was a skirt-like item of clothing I use for my masturbation fantasies in waking life and maybe a pair of panties.
I hoped neither MM nor the people she was calling to would pursue me. I didn't want them to see me like this. I especially didn't want MM to see me like this, as I was pretty sure she'd been romantically attracted to me when we'd worked together.
Two men came in through a glass door and stood beside the bed. It was like this space -- still almost the exact same office/library space it had been before -- was now either my bedroom or some hospital room. The men may have looked like stereotypical detectives from a 1940s movie.
I was embarrassed to have the men here, because of the shameful way I was dressed. But the men also seemed menacing, like they were part of some weird governmental group that was just taking people away from their lives for reasons nobody understood.
Once the men were at the head of the bed (it may really have felt like a hospital bed, with an elevated head, at this point), they were both suddenly under dark blue (like a dull, navy blue, but with just a tinge of a dark, forest green to the blue) blankets. The sight of these men just standing stock-still was creepy and unsettling. The men intended it to be so.
The men were now both out from under the blankets. But they stood in some weird position, like one of them had manage to get behind the headboard of my bed (which was now like a regular bed, in a low, wooden frame with a bookshelf-like headboard), while the other one stood close to the first one, but just beside the bed.
The man behind the bed was carrying a license plate or some kind of stiff piece of paper that looked like a license plate. He may possibly have been carrying this thing the whole time. The "license plate" indicated that it came from Cornell, i.e. the university, as if the university were a place you could reside in, like a state, and get a license plate from.
The two men may have taken turns telling me about a project they were working on. It was called something like COM, or Cornell-COM, or Cornell-MOC. It may possibly have been some sort of military project or government project in cooperation with Cornell. Or it may have been a project that Cornell was working on alone that seemed a lot like it would or should be a government or military project.
The project may have sounded interesting to me. But I wasn't quite sure I wanted to be a part of it. I actually wasn't sure what my involvement was supposed to be. I felt like these guys may have been trying to lure me into a situation where I'd actually be tortured by them as part of some twisted government or university experiment.
But even if I had completely trusted the men and their program, I still wasn't sure I'd want to join. If I joined I'd have to go with the men right now. But I knew I wouldn't want to do that. As soon as I got out of bed they'd see that the only clothing I was wearing was a tattered skirt I used to masturbate in and maybe a pair of equally worn-out panties.
I had come into an office, probably as a temporary receptionist or something. I sat down at some cubicle. It was the beginning of the day. The office floor was dim, like there were no lights on, but blue daylight was coming through some window walls in the distance, and maybe from some window-walled alcove behind me.
I may have felt a little impatient that it was just the beginning of the day. I may already have felt annoyed at having to sit at this cubicle desk all day long, doing nothing and probably being treated nicely but sort of condescendingly by the other people in the office.
I was probably myself. But I may also either have been a really sexy, girly woman wearing sexy office girl clothes without really noticing it. I may also simply have been wearing the sexy office girl clothes without noticing it. Or I may have been wearing some scrapped-out girl clothes (the ones I sometimes wear for my masturbation fantasies in waking life) without noticing it.
I was probably thinking about the path my professional life had taken. I was disappointed with myself. I had worked a lot and done a lot of great things. But somehow I'd thrown it all away and was back at the start again, working as a temporary receptionist. I may have wondered if there wasn't some quick way I could get myself back to where I'd been.
I looked off to my left. Beyond some glass walls was another room that may have looked like a library or a set of book stacks. I probably felt like whatever was in those books related to some kind of strong interest I'd had in my previous professional work. I decided to go there, so I could look into my old professional interests, just for my own sake.
As I walked into the room, I saw, beyond a few rows of bookshelves, MM, someone from one of the first professional positions to start my serious career life (back in 2005), sitting at something like a microfiche machine. MM looked up from her machine and saw me, too.
I maybe walked behind one of the bookshelves, possibly thoughtlessly, but possibly on purpose. I may have seen a desk, like a receptionist's desk, that I thought I needed to sit at. It was like my job now took place in this room instead of the other room.
MM called out to some other folks. She said she'd spotted me. She told the people that they should follow me and try to get me involved in whatever project they were working on. She said I was the kind of person that, once people had me on their team, they would just start winning all the time.
But I was now laying in a bed in between one of the book stacks and a window wall looking into the other office area. I wasn't wearing a shirt. And the only thing I wore around my lower body was a skirt-like item of clothing I use for my masturbation fantasies in waking life and maybe a pair of panties.
I hoped neither MM nor the people she was calling to would pursue me. I didn't want them to see me like this. I especially didn't want MM to see me like this, as I was pretty sure she'd been romantically attracted to me when we'd worked together.
Two men came in through a glass door and stood beside the bed. It was like this space -- still almost the exact same office/library space it had been before -- was now either my bedroom or some hospital room. The men may have looked like stereotypical detectives from a 1940s movie.
I was embarrassed to have the men here, because of the shameful way I was dressed. But the men also seemed menacing, like they were part of some weird governmental group that was just taking people away from their lives for reasons nobody understood.
Once the men were at the head of the bed (it may really have felt like a hospital bed, with an elevated head, at this point), they were both suddenly under dark blue (like a dull, navy blue, but with just a tinge of a dark, forest green to the blue) blankets. The sight of these men just standing stock-still was creepy and unsettling. The men intended it to be so.
The men were now both out from under the blankets. But they stood in some weird position, like one of them had manage to get behind the headboard of my bed (which was now like a regular bed, in a low, wooden frame with a bookshelf-like headboard), while the other one stood close to the first one, but just beside the bed.
The man behind the bed was carrying a license plate or some kind of stiff piece of paper that looked like a license plate. He may possibly have been carrying this thing the whole time. The "license plate" indicated that it came from Cornell, i.e. the university, as if the university were a place you could reside in, like a state, and get a license plate from.
The two men may have taken turns telling me about a project they were working on. It was called something like COM, or Cornell-COM, or Cornell-MOC. It may possibly have been some sort of military project or government project in cooperation with Cornell. Or it may have been a project that Cornell was working on alone that seemed a lot like it would or should be a government or military project.
The project may have sounded interesting to me. But I wasn't quite sure I wanted to be a part of it. I actually wasn't sure what my involvement was supposed to be. I felt like these guys may have been trying to lure me into a situation where I'd actually be tortured by them as part of some twisted government or university experiment.
But even if I had completely trusted the men and their program, I still wasn't sure I'd want to join. If I joined I'd have to go with the men right now. But I knew I wouldn't want to do that. As soon as I got out of bed they'd see that the only clothing I was wearing was a tattered skirt I used to masturbate in and maybe a pair of equally worn-out panties.
they were still watching me; disappointing van ride
These dreams are from two nights ago. But I got really busy yesterday morning and couldn't post them.
Dream 1
I was in some kind of mountain area with a group of people. We were all working together on some project, probably to do something like destroy or avoid an evil force.
But all the people I was with didn't believe anything I said about how we needed to get things done. Some of them may even have been antagonistic toward me, trying to stop the things I said needed to get done from getting done, and maybe even trying to get me removed from the group, if not even killed altogether.
But at some point, probably as we headed down some grassy slope into a grassy valley, the evil force caught up with us. I, and maybe another group of people that had come from some other place, fought off the evil force.
But as we fought off and destroyed the evil force, all the people I was with were revealed to be bad, too. They all fell down some deep crevice at the edge of the grassy valley. Some of them may have tried to pull me down as well.
As I watched the people fall down the pit (I don't know if they really fell: their faces may have stayed frozen in one spot a few meters down the pit), I couldn't help feeling a little smug. These people had tried to destroy me for so long. And I knew I should have felt bad that they were dying now. But I kind of felt happy.
I may have felt a little strange about being happy that my teammates had all died. I felt like if they knew I was happy, they'd try to make something bad happen to me. I tried to hide my happiness.
As I was walking away from the crevice, I came to understand that there was some new problem that had to be taken care of. I walked through the valley and up another grassy slope, which was probably bordered along the right side with a rocky outcropping. I walked with a group of people, though we were all scattered out pretty widely along the valley and slope. I may have asked (maybe by my thoughts) one of the people I was walking with what sort of problem we had to face now.
As I walked up the slope, the setting shifted into some kind of office building. The lighting was sort of grey-green-blue, like a representation of fluorescent lights in some edgy sci-fi movie. I walked through a lobby and then up some sort of ramped area. And even though this ramped area went up along the floors of the building, I was probably trying to find an elevator to go up.
I was probably being followed by a group of guys, maybe like mafia guys, or maybe just a bunch of trouble-making guys. The guys were all a bit older, maybe in their thirties. They were all olive-skinned. And they all wore dark suits. I was trying not to head into an elevator while I felt like they had their eyes on me, because I didn't want them to know where I was going.
I somehow ended up in a hospital room. My mom was on the bed. It was pretty clear she was going to die. She started telling me about her foster kids. She was really proud of how well she'd taken care of them. And she felt like they had turned out to be really good kids. I agreed.
My view drifted away from my mom and toward some other place within this hospital/office building. As it did I started to feel really sad. It wasn't just that my mom was dying. It was that I felt like she deserved so much more out of life. She deserved a lot of success. And she even deserved to stay alive to see her foster kids be successful. So it just didn't feel fair to me that she had to die.
I was heading up to some conference room to meet my mom. I walked up a ramped hallway with glass walls. The glass walls of the hallway gave a view through the glass walls of the conference room. So as I ascended, I could see, at an angle, more and more of the conference room.
I saw my mom, probably in some kind of peach gown like a hospital gown, sitting in a center chair on the long side of a conference table. I then saw the bunch of guys who had been following me walk into the room. They all looked down at me and laughed. They wanted to convey to me that they'd known I was going to meet my mom here and that they had come ahead of me to make both me and my mom miserable.
I entered the room. There was an older man sitting at the table, probably across from my mom. The man looked weird. He, too, may have been wearing a hospital gown. He was bald, with a kind of withered and shriveled face. He may have worn some kind of strange, gauzy covering over his head. And his body was all round. But at the same time, he may have been like the head of the mafia that the younger guys were a part of.
The guys were already starting to be a bother. And almost instantly I was enraged. I tried to keep my temper. I didn't want to make the mafia boss mad at me. But I began picking up all the guys and throwing them down at the floor so I would smash their heads into the floor. I was probably either killing or gravely injuring these guys. But I still thought I was keeping up a good appearance before the mafia boss, so he wouldn't try to retaliate against me.
At some point, the mafia boss asked my mom about the guys. My mom said, in an almost mafioso voice herself, that she wanted all the guys out of the room. The mafia boss told the guys to get out. The guys all left. But they kind of looked after me as they left the room, to let me know that they'd still find a way to get at me.
I watched after the guys. My view kind of tracked them as they left the room and walked down another ramped hallway. The guys headed downward, but kept their faces turned up toward me, to let me know they were still watching me.
I looked away from the guys. I looked back toward the conference room. But my view had wandered downward, maybe through the ramped hallway?, so that I was maybe a floor or more from the conference room. I might have seen or gotten the sense from my weird angle that my mom and the mafia boss were talking by themselves about whatever business we'd arranged to discuss.
Dream 2
I stood next to a maroon minivan. Someone, maybe an older woman, was in the driver's seat. My mom approached the van, then sat into the front passenger seat. She closed her door. The window was rolled down. The back door of the van may still have been open. Some kids may have been sitting in the backseat.
My mom told me something about how she needed to catch a ride in this van. The van was hers. But she was also having someone drive her somewhere in it, like the van was actually the other person's and not hers.
My mom was saying how she needed to have a ride somewhere, just in case her van broke down. But it was like her van was already broken down and she needed either to go pick it up or go pick up some cheap replacement car she'd bought. But it may also, or instead, have been like she was being driven to her van, and she knew her van was about to die, but she wanted to drive it until it totally died, so she could then go buy another cheap vehicle.
I was probably mad at my mom for not taking care of her cars. I was probably supposed to get in the backseat of the van so I could go wherever everybody was going. But I didn't want to get into the van. I didn't want to have to depend on someone else for a ride. And I didn't want to put my mom in a position of power while she was demonstrating she was doing something I found so disappointing.
Dream 1
I was in some kind of mountain area with a group of people. We were all working together on some project, probably to do something like destroy or avoid an evil force.
But all the people I was with didn't believe anything I said about how we needed to get things done. Some of them may even have been antagonistic toward me, trying to stop the things I said needed to get done from getting done, and maybe even trying to get me removed from the group, if not even killed altogether.
But at some point, probably as we headed down some grassy slope into a grassy valley, the evil force caught up with us. I, and maybe another group of people that had come from some other place, fought off the evil force.
But as we fought off and destroyed the evil force, all the people I was with were revealed to be bad, too. They all fell down some deep crevice at the edge of the grassy valley. Some of them may have tried to pull me down as well.
As I watched the people fall down the pit (I don't know if they really fell: their faces may have stayed frozen in one spot a few meters down the pit), I couldn't help feeling a little smug. These people had tried to destroy me for so long. And I knew I should have felt bad that they were dying now. But I kind of felt happy.
I may have felt a little strange about being happy that my teammates had all died. I felt like if they knew I was happy, they'd try to make something bad happen to me. I tried to hide my happiness.
As I was walking away from the crevice, I came to understand that there was some new problem that had to be taken care of. I walked through the valley and up another grassy slope, which was probably bordered along the right side with a rocky outcropping. I walked with a group of people, though we were all scattered out pretty widely along the valley and slope. I may have asked (maybe by my thoughts) one of the people I was walking with what sort of problem we had to face now.
As I walked up the slope, the setting shifted into some kind of office building. The lighting was sort of grey-green-blue, like a representation of fluorescent lights in some edgy sci-fi movie. I walked through a lobby and then up some sort of ramped area. And even though this ramped area went up along the floors of the building, I was probably trying to find an elevator to go up.
I was probably being followed by a group of guys, maybe like mafia guys, or maybe just a bunch of trouble-making guys. The guys were all a bit older, maybe in their thirties. They were all olive-skinned. And they all wore dark suits. I was trying not to head into an elevator while I felt like they had their eyes on me, because I didn't want them to know where I was going.
I somehow ended up in a hospital room. My mom was on the bed. It was pretty clear she was going to die. She started telling me about her foster kids. She was really proud of how well she'd taken care of them. And she felt like they had turned out to be really good kids. I agreed.
My view drifted away from my mom and toward some other place within this hospital/office building. As it did I started to feel really sad. It wasn't just that my mom was dying. It was that I felt like she deserved so much more out of life. She deserved a lot of success. And she even deserved to stay alive to see her foster kids be successful. So it just didn't feel fair to me that she had to die.
I was heading up to some conference room to meet my mom. I walked up a ramped hallway with glass walls. The glass walls of the hallway gave a view through the glass walls of the conference room. So as I ascended, I could see, at an angle, more and more of the conference room.
I saw my mom, probably in some kind of peach gown like a hospital gown, sitting in a center chair on the long side of a conference table. I then saw the bunch of guys who had been following me walk into the room. They all looked down at me and laughed. They wanted to convey to me that they'd known I was going to meet my mom here and that they had come ahead of me to make both me and my mom miserable.
I entered the room. There was an older man sitting at the table, probably across from my mom. The man looked weird. He, too, may have been wearing a hospital gown. He was bald, with a kind of withered and shriveled face. He may have worn some kind of strange, gauzy covering over his head. And his body was all round. But at the same time, he may have been like the head of the mafia that the younger guys were a part of.
The guys were already starting to be a bother. And almost instantly I was enraged. I tried to keep my temper. I didn't want to make the mafia boss mad at me. But I began picking up all the guys and throwing them down at the floor so I would smash their heads into the floor. I was probably either killing or gravely injuring these guys. But I still thought I was keeping up a good appearance before the mafia boss, so he wouldn't try to retaliate against me.
At some point, the mafia boss asked my mom about the guys. My mom said, in an almost mafioso voice herself, that she wanted all the guys out of the room. The mafia boss told the guys to get out. The guys all left. But they kind of looked after me as they left the room, to let me know that they'd still find a way to get at me.
I watched after the guys. My view kind of tracked them as they left the room and walked down another ramped hallway. The guys headed downward, but kept their faces turned up toward me, to let me know they were still watching me.
I looked away from the guys. I looked back toward the conference room. But my view had wandered downward, maybe through the ramped hallway?, so that I was maybe a floor or more from the conference room. I might have seen or gotten the sense from my weird angle that my mom and the mafia boss were talking by themselves about whatever business we'd arranged to discuss.
Dream 2
I stood next to a maroon minivan. Someone, maybe an older woman, was in the driver's seat. My mom approached the van, then sat into the front passenger seat. She closed her door. The window was rolled down. The back door of the van may still have been open. Some kids may have been sitting in the backseat.
My mom told me something about how she needed to catch a ride in this van. The van was hers. But she was also having someone drive her somewhere in it, like the van was actually the other person's and not hers.
My mom was saying how she needed to have a ride somewhere, just in case her van broke down. But it was like her van was already broken down and she needed either to go pick it up or go pick up some cheap replacement car she'd bought. But it may also, or instead, have been like she was being driven to her van, and she knew her van was about to die, but she wanted to drive it until it totally died, so she could then go buy another cheap vehicle.
I was probably mad at my mom for not taking care of her cars. I was probably supposed to get in the backseat of the van so I could go wherever everybody was going. But I didn't want to get into the van. I didn't want to have to depend on someone else for a ride. And I didn't want to put my mom in a position of power while she was demonstrating she was doing something I found so disappointing.
Friday, June 15, 2018
long sales presentations; criminal heroes
Dream 1
I was in a big, open room, maybe something like a preschool classroom mixed with an office floor. Some of the stuff in the room, like maybe the carpets and some of the furniture, was brightly multicolored, like in a preschool classroom. But the lighting was pale fluorescent, and there were office machines and some drab- or pale-colored office furnishings around, too.
I stood against a wall with two other people: a coworker who may have been a friend, and my old boss and mentor AB. One of the two, probably AB, may have been sitting against the wall, directly to my right/in front of me (I think my right shoulder leaned against the wall) on a high chair, like a baby's mealtime highchair without the table-like front. The other person may have been standing to AB's right or sitting, maybe on a filing cabinet or something.
This was some kind of company. And AB had come in just to see how everything was going, just because he cared about the people here, not because he had anything to do with the operations of the company.
My coworker probably said that things were going well. And I agreed. I only felt one thing was wrong, which was that some of the salespeople were always insisting on giving really long sales presentations. They were boring as hell, and I felt like it negatively impacted sales. But it may also have been something either that I no longer had to deal with, as I was in a separated position now, or that had naturally kind of stopped happening a while ago.
But I still wanted to complain about this, apparently. And I tried to say it. But maybe I didn't say it the right way. AB listened to me, but didn't quite get what I'd said. He said either that he didn't think salespeople doing long presentations was a bad thing, or that he would teach me later on how to do long sales presentations, because he now apparently thought that's what I wanted to do.
This whole issue, which I'd previously brought up only in an attempt to bring up some problem, so I wasn't acting like everything was perfect, now became for me some dire attempt to prove to AB that something actually was wrong with the company.
I now managed to pull AB around a corner, into a long, unlit hallway cluttered along the walls with office machines and furniture, and at the end of which was another huge, fluorescent-lit room, this one full of cubicles.
I had pulled AB pretty close and was speaking in a low voice, like I was trying to convey a really important and dire secret about the company. I was writing on some piece of paper with some printed out lines or grids on it. The paper may have been taped to the wall.
I tried to explain again to AB how bad it had been for sales that the salespeople always insisted on giving long sales presentations. But AB only said that he understood, and that he would teach me as soon as he could how to give long sales presentations. He even seemed to indicate that he would talk to management, to make sure that everybody started giving much longer sales presentations from now on.
I was now totally upset and worried. But AB walked back out into the preschool-like room, just a meter or so away from the entrance to the unlit hallway. I followed him.
All the way across the room, one of my recent acquaintances, KW, walked in, from the left corner of the room. He stood in front of a low set of bookshelves, like children's bookshelves.
AB saw KW and waved to get his attention. KW waved back. I could tell that AB liked KW a lot. But now I remembered that KW was the person who had given the really long sales presentations.
But now I also remembered that KW had actually stopped giving the really long sales presentations quite some time ago. But I had let myself get so caught up in trying to explain a situation that had already passed that I had made it sound like it was still a big problem.
I now started to worry about whether AB would go complain to KW or about KW because I had said his sales presentations were too long. I, like AB, liked KW. In fact, I'd just made friends with him. I thought it would be really stupid of me if I had just gone to such pains to discuss an old problem that I would now make KW think I didn't like him.
I may have thought that I should now start talking to AB about how the problem with long sales presentations really didn't exist. But I may possibly have hesitated about doing that. I'd seen how complaining about the long sales presentations had backfired on me. I may possibly now have been afraid that saying anything else would backfire on me even worse.
Dream 2
There may have been a news report that two gay activists in town had been assassinated. The news spoke about how they'd been assassinated. But then the news immediately started talking about how the activists were criminals. The news had probably implied they'd been involved in some sort of extortion activity. Where only a short while ago the two gay activists had been positioned as heroes, they were now being positioned as villains who'd deserved to die.
I couldn't quite believe what the news was saying. Yet I couldn't totally discount it. If it was true, I would be really disappointed. But it seemed a little too convenient, given how, I felt, sentiment was changing and shifting against gays recently, that these two gay activists should be assassinated and that immediately thereafter the news should start positioning them as criminals. It only seemed to fit in with what I thought were ill-intentioned trends.
I may have seen an image, like on a television, of a crowd of people all clamoring to get into some sort of mass-transit vehicle like a trolley on a pale-grey asphalt or concrete street. The trolley-like vehicle (hooked to overhead wires, running on a track, etc.) was painted white. There was a huge crowd all around the trolley. But the sidewalks nearby were also crowded, like this was in some huge, busy town. The imagery was all blurry, like a modern image trying to mimic the wavy, distorted quality of 1980s color TV.
I was in a big, open room, maybe something like a preschool classroom mixed with an office floor. Some of the stuff in the room, like maybe the carpets and some of the furniture, was brightly multicolored, like in a preschool classroom. But the lighting was pale fluorescent, and there were office machines and some drab- or pale-colored office furnishings around, too.
I stood against a wall with two other people: a coworker who may have been a friend, and my old boss and mentor AB. One of the two, probably AB, may have been sitting against the wall, directly to my right/in front of me (I think my right shoulder leaned against the wall) on a high chair, like a baby's mealtime highchair without the table-like front. The other person may have been standing to AB's right or sitting, maybe on a filing cabinet or something.
This was some kind of company. And AB had come in just to see how everything was going, just because he cared about the people here, not because he had anything to do with the operations of the company.
My coworker probably said that things were going well. And I agreed. I only felt one thing was wrong, which was that some of the salespeople were always insisting on giving really long sales presentations. They were boring as hell, and I felt like it negatively impacted sales. But it may also have been something either that I no longer had to deal with, as I was in a separated position now, or that had naturally kind of stopped happening a while ago.
But I still wanted to complain about this, apparently. And I tried to say it. But maybe I didn't say it the right way. AB listened to me, but didn't quite get what I'd said. He said either that he didn't think salespeople doing long presentations was a bad thing, or that he would teach me later on how to do long sales presentations, because he now apparently thought that's what I wanted to do.
This whole issue, which I'd previously brought up only in an attempt to bring up some problem, so I wasn't acting like everything was perfect, now became for me some dire attempt to prove to AB that something actually was wrong with the company.
I now managed to pull AB around a corner, into a long, unlit hallway cluttered along the walls with office machines and furniture, and at the end of which was another huge, fluorescent-lit room, this one full of cubicles.
I had pulled AB pretty close and was speaking in a low voice, like I was trying to convey a really important and dire secret about the company. I was writing on some piece of paper with some printed out lines or grids on it. The paper may have been taped to the wall.
I tried to explain again to AB how bad it had been for sales that the salespeople always insisted on giving long sales presentations. But AB only said that he understood, and that he would teach me as soon as he could how to give long sales presentations. He even seemed to indicate that he would talk to management, to make sure that everybody started giving much longer sales presentations from now on.
I was now totally upset and worried. But AB walked back out into the preschool-like room, just a meter or so away from the entrance to the unlit hallway. I followed him.
All the way across the room, one of my recent acquaintances, KW, walked in, from the left corner of the room. He stood in front of a low set of bookshelves, like children's bookshelves.
AB saw KW and waved to get his attention. KW waved back. I could tell that AB liked KW a lot. But now I remembered that KW was the person who had given the really long sales presentations.
But now I also remembered that KW had actually stopped giving the really long sales presentations quite some time ago. But I had let myself get so caught up in trying to explain a situation that had already passed that I had made it sound like it was still a big problem.
I now started to worry about whether AB would go complain to KW or about KW because I had said his sales presentations were too long. I, like AB, liked KW. In fact, I'd just made friends with him. I thought it would be really stupid of me if I had just gone to such pains to discuss an old problem that I would now make KW think I didn't like him.
I may have thought that I should now start talking to AB about how the problem with long sales presentations really didn't exist. But I may possibly have hesitated about doing that. I'd seen how complaining about the long sales presentations had backfired on me. I may possibly now have been afraid that saying anything else would backfire on me even worse.
Dream 2
There may have been a news report that two gay activists in town had been assassinated. The news spoke about how they'd been assassinated. But then the news immediately started talking about how the activists were criminals. The news had probably implied they'd been involved in some sort of extortion activity. Where only a short while ago the two gay activists had been positioned as heroes, they were now being positioned as villains who'd deserved to die.
I couldn't quite believe what the news was saying. Yet I couldn't totally discount it. If it was true, I would be really disappointed. But it seemed a little too convenient, given how, I felt, sentiment was changing and shifting against gays recently, that these two gay activists should be assassinated and that immediately thereafter the news should start positioning them as criminals. It only seemed to fit in with what I thought were ill-intentioned trends.
I may have seen an image, like on a television, of a crowd of people all clamoring to get into some sort of mass-transit vehicle like a trolley on a pale-grey asphalt or concrete street. The trolley-like vehicle (hooked to overhead wires, running on a track, etc.) was painted white. There was a huge crowd all around the trolley. But the sidewalks nearby were also crowded, like this was in some huge, busy town. The imagery was all blurry, like a modern image trying to mimic the wavy, distorted quality of 1980s color TV.
Thursday, June 14, 2018
the women in red and blue
Dream 1
I was in a nice-looking restaurant. The restaurant was softly lit but not dim. I was in a narrow room that had kind of slim, wooden tables along the walls.
I walked up the narrow aisle between the tables, toward a tall, attractive blonde woman. The woman wore a red dress that may have been made of vinyl. The dress had a section along the midriff made of clear vinyl.
The woman said something and then either pulled her dress up (at the clear vinyl part?) or down, so that her breasts were exposed. This probably seemed a little strange to me. But I may have tried to figure out how the woman's actions fit in with the situation.
There was some strange shift that I can't remember very well. The woman was now wearing a blue dress of similar material. And she was probably a different woman now, though she was also still tall, blonde, and attractive.
But I also saw from the viewpoint of the first woman. I looked down and saw the woman's exposed breasts and the red dress. But I wasn't the woman. And I thought that the woman needed to pull her dress back up over her chest. The woman may have done this as I thought about it.
I was now myself, but I was either in the body of the woman with the red dress or else I was wearing the red dress myself. I walked down a couple of steps and into another room of the restaurant. The room looked a lot like the room I'd just been in except that it was probably a bit wider and a bit longer. Also, the wall I faced may have been only a half-wall, opening to another, much larger room of tables.
The restaurant was now a Chinese food restaurant. I was meeting my family here. We came separately, but we all must have arrived at the same time. As soon as I sat down at the table, everybody else was there, sitting down, too.
I sat at the head of the table. I don't know whether I was the woman or just wearing her dress. But I felt kind of weird looking this way in front of my family. I figured that if anybody noticed that I looked different, I'd try to come up with some explanation on the fly.
I was in a nice-looking restaurant. The restaurant was softly lit but not dim. I was in a narrow room that had kind of slim, wooden tables along the walls.
I walked up the narrow aisle between the tables, toward a tall, attractive blonde woman. The woman wore a red dress that may have been made of vinyl. The dress had a section along the midriff made of clear vinyl.
The woman said something and then either pulled her dress up (at the clear vinyl part?) or down, so that her breasts were exposed. This probably seemed a little strange to me. But I may have tried to figure out how the woman's actions fit in with the situation.
There was some strange shift that I can't remember very well. The woman was now wearing a blue dress of similar material. And she was probably a different woman now, though she was also still tall, blonde, and attractive.
But I also saw from the viewpoint of the first woman. I looked down and saw the woman's exposed breasts and the red dress. But I wasn't the woman. And I thought that the woman needed to pull her dress back up over her chest. The woman may have done this as I thought about it.
I was now myself, but I was either in the body of the woman with the red dress or else I was wearing the red dress myself. I walked down a couple of steps and into another room of the restaurant. The room looked a lot like the room I'd just been in except that it was probably a bit wider and a bit longer. Also, the wall I faced may have been only a half-wall, opening to another, much larger room of tables.
The restaurant was now a Chinese food restaurant. I was meeting my family here. We came separately, but we all must have arrived at the same time. As soon as I sat down at the table, everybody else was there, sitting down, too.
I sat at the head of the table. I don't know whether I was the woman or just wearing her dress. But I felt kind of weird looking this way in front of my family. I figured that if anybody noticed that I looked different, I'd try to come up with some explanation on the fly.
Monday, June 11, 2018
vertiginous friendship
Dream 1
I was by myself on one of the top floors of a skyscraper. At first I may have been indoors, near some glass walls that were shaded, like with grey-brown UV coating. But I probably kept going upwards, maybe like I was in an elevator.
At some point I was on the top floor, or on the roof, of the skyscraper. I may have still felt like I was indoors. But I also felt like I was outside, exposed to the chance of falling from the building. I could barely stand up, I was so dizzy with a fear of heights. Yet I knew I had to keep going upward.
There was a staircase, maybe ten or fifteen steps, that led up to the highest point of the building. I knew I had to climb this staircase, even though I really didn't want to. I went up the staircase, probably crawling up, as I was too weak-kneed to stand.
I reached the top of the staircase and looked down toward the "roof" of the building. Just beyond the edge of the roof I could see the landscape of this city. But it was kind of blurry.
I knew I needed to look through some kind of glasses or lenses to see down to the very streets of the city. I really didn't want to. I was scared and shaky right now. If I looked through the glasses and saw all the way down to the streets, I'd be terribly unsettled. But I knew I needed to do it.
So I did, for only a fraction of a second. I didn't see very much at all. And I had the feeling I should really look again, so I could get a good idea of what I was looking at.
But now, down at the bottom of the steps was a group of people. Some of them were my friends, from the art world. They were all milling around. They might have been on some kind of field trip. Or they might have come up here to convene before they headed off to do something.
Some of my friends caught sight of me and may have chatted with me for a second. I think that as I chatted with them I decided to come down from the steps. I was still dizzy and afraid, but not as much as I had been. Now that I was talking with my friends I could at least stand up straight.
Everybody now seemed to be heading out to do their thing. I didn't know whether I was supposed to come along. One of my art world friends, MB, stopped for a second and spoke with me a little bit more. I tried to make sure as I spoke with her I didn't say anything stupid that would make her not like me. I also tried not to let on that I was terribly afraid of being up here on the roof.
I seemed to drift back up toward the top of the steps. MB sort of drifted away, maybe toward some structure that was now like an elevator bank. We were still doing something like chatting, though all the conversation may now only have been in my mind. MB was also really blurry, like I was looking at her through mostly closed eyes, like she was just a swimming glint in a sun-soaked, mote-dotted circle. But my eyes were wide open.
I may now have tried looking through the glasses again to get a clear view all the way down to the streets. But suddenly I knew that there was another staircase I needed to climb, or another elevator I needed to take, or some other way in which I needed to get to an even higher level of the building. I probably got really afraid and shaky at this point.
I was by myself on one of the top floors of a skyscraper. At first I may have been indoors, near some glass walls that were shaded, like with grey-brown UV coating. But I probably kept going upwards, maybe like I was in an elevator.
At some point I was on the top floor, or on the roof, of the skyscraper. I may have still felt like I was indoors. But I also felt like I was outside, exposed to the chance of falling from the building. I could barely stand up, I was so dizzy with a fear of heights. Yet I knew I had to keep going upward.
There was a staircase, maybe ten or fifteen steps, that led up to the highest point of the building. I knew I had to climb this staircase, even though I really didn't want to. I went up the staircase, probably crawling up, as I was too weak-kneed to stand.
I reached the top of the staircase and looked down toward the "roof" of the building. Just beyond the edge of the roof I could see the landscape of this city. But it was kind of blurry.
I knew I needed to look through some kind of glasses or lenses to see down to the very streets of the city. I really didn't want to. I was scared and shaky right now. If I looked through the glasses and saw all the way down to the streets, I'd be terribly unsettled. But I knew I needed to do it.
So I did, for only a fraction of a second. I didn't see very much at all. And I had the feeling I should really look again, so I could get a good idea of what I was looking at.
But now, down at the bottom of the steps was a group of people. Some of them were my friends, from the art world. They were all milling around. They might have been on some kind of field trip. Or they might have come up here to convene before they headed off to do something.
Some of my friends caught sight of me and may have chatted with me for a second. I think that as I chatted with them I decided to come down from the steps. I was still dizzy and afraid, but not as much as I had been. Now that I was talking with my friends I could at least stand up straight.
Everybody now seemed to be heading out to do their thing. I didn't know whether I was supposed to come along. One of my art world friends, MB, stopped for a second and spoke with me a little bit more. I tried to make sure as I spoke with her I didn't say anything stupid that would make her not like me. I also tried not to let on that I was terribly afraid of being up here on the roof.
I seemed to drift back up toward the top of the steps. MB sort of drifted away, maybe toward some structure that was now like an elevator bank. We were still doing something like chatting, though all the conversation may now only have been in my mind. MB was also really blurry, like I was looking at her through mostly closed eyes, like she was just a swimming glint in a sun-soaked, mote-dotted circle. But my eyes were wide open.
I may now have tried looking through the glasses again to get a clear view all the way down to the streets. But suddenly I knew that there was another staircase I needed to climb, or another elevator I needed to take, or some other way in which I needed to get to an even higher level of the building. I probably got really afraid and shaky at this point.
(Dream from 6/9/18) -- Little girl kisses me
This dream is from two nights ago. But I got really busy yesterday morning and couldn't post it.
Dream 1
I was probably in a living room, sitting under a blanket or sheet with a little girl. The girl was blonde. She may have been one of my little nieces. There may have been a couple of women in the living room, sitting on a couch. They may have been relatives of mine, like cousins. But I didn't see them: I only remembered them or knew they were there.
The little girl was laying on my lap, like I was cradling her. She wasn't wearing a shirt. I started to stroke her chest, rubbing her left nipple. She seemed to be comfortable, even aroused. I bent my face down toward hers, to kiss her. She grabbed my head and quickly pulled me closer. She darted her tongue into my mouth.
Dream 1
I was probably in a living room, sitting under a blanket or sheet with a little girl. The girl was blonde. She may have been one of my little nieces. There may have been a couple of women in the living room, sitting on a couch. They may have been relatives of mine, like cousins. But I didn't see them: I only remembered them or knew they were there.
The little girl was laying on my lap, like I was cradling her. She wasn't wearing a shirt. I started to stroke her chest, rubbing her left nipple. She seemed to be comfortable, even aroused. I bent my face down toward hers, to kiss her. She grabbed my head and quickly pulled me closer. She darted her tongue into my mouth.
Friday, June 8, 2018
diapered j-pop idol
Dream 1
I was watching a J-pop idol in concert. She was wearing a short, green skirt. At one point during the song, she did a handstand. Her skirt slipped down, to reveal she was wearing a big diaper. I was kind of surprised by this. And I wondered afterwards what it meant about her sexuality.
I was watching a J-pop idol in concert. She was wearing a short, green skirt. At one point during the song, she did a handstand. Her skirt slipped down, to reveal she was wearing a big diaper. I was kind of surprised by this. And I wondered afterwards what it meant about her sexuality.
Thursday, June 7, 2018
running on rooftops; little hockey girls
Dream 1
I was walking through a strange area at night with a woman. The area was like an aqueduct, but above the ground, not dug down into it. We may simply have been walking along the "floors" of some U- or L-shaped concrete structures that had been set up on the ground. This structure was in an area crowded with homes.
The woman and I spoke. But then I tried to ask her how to say something in German. I was trying to say "me, too," in German. But I didn't know how to say either word, though I was pretty sure I almost knew how to say "me."
I may have stuttered out some word, like "ich," or "mein," or "mich" a few times. But now the woman pretended like she couldn't understand what I was saying at all. She started speaking German, like she only spoke German and didn't speak any English. Plus she started acting really naive and chirpy, as if to confuse me even more.
I may actually have started trying to speak in other languages, including Spanish. But I really couldn't say a single word in any of those languages. I could only almost say words that I was pretty sure I almost knew.
Eventually I ended this whole game. I knew the woman spoke English. And I knew the only reason she was pretending she couldn't understand me was because I'm Hispanic and she wanted to pretend that I only spoke Spanish, so she couldn't understand me.
I said in English that I was trying to say something about how tall something was. I made a motion toward the concrete wall and said something about how something was so tall.
I then compared my hand and the woman's hand and said something about how tall our hands were. We both had our hands held out in my field of view. I was kind of surprised, because our hands were both kind of short and stubby looking, maybe also a little dirty looking.
As we looked at our hands we passed out of the concrete structure. We were before a kind of dense and cluttered set of thin homes or row houses. I motioned up toward one of the buildings -- a kind of modern looking home with yellow-painted, metal walls, ridged a little bit like a shipping container, which contrasted against a stormy, staticky, purple sky.
I again made some sort of comment about how tall the building was, hoping the woman would finally tell me how to say this phrase in German. I saw my brother (into whom the woman may have transformed?) walking somewhere near the top of the building. He may have been on the roof of the building. Or he may have been on a concrete path on a hill that was so steep that it almost reached the roof of the building.
I decided to follow my brother, maybe by running up the concrete path, or maybe by flying up onto the roof.
I may have run along some roofs like the roof of the modern house. But then we ran along a strange roof. It was like the roof was made up entirely of spires like spires of Japanese temples. We ran up and over these spires, which may all have been shingled with old wooden shingles and fronted with red-painted wood.
We eventually ran toward some proscenium- or shrine-like square-arch structure that signaled the end of the spire section of the roof. As we approached this area, some older, white man, kind of overweight, with a big belly, chased after us. It may now have been me, my brother, and a couple other boys.
The man started asking us what we were doing up on the roof. It felt like he was thinking of calling the police on us. I didn't think he would be right to call the police on us. But I was still afraid he would.
We decided we'd just leave the roof. We ran past the square-arch area, down a few wide roof slopes that were like big steps. We were still up on a roof (it was like we were just on some enormous complex of roofs). But now the roof was more like asphalt, like a road.
At this point, my brother, or maybe both of us, may have been black. We kind of stopped at one area of asphalt that seemed to be lifting or peeling up in a strip from the rest of the asphalt. The man asked us if we lived here. I said we did. I wasn't sure whether the man would believe us, or whether this would stop the man from calling the police on us.
Dream 2
I was in some huge room like the backstage of a theater. There were a lot of people around, and a lot of stuff was going on. The atmosphere was very brown, like everything was made out of wood: the walls, ceilings, fixtures, etc. I probably stood near a man who was like a boss or a mentor.
I could see all the way through the room, to a wide, tall opening into another room. The next room was like a gym. There also seemed to be a lot of stuff going on in there, like a lot of young girls, maybe junior high school girls, were playing around or practicing sports or something.
I wanted to throw a ball. It may have been a baseball or something that looked like a baseball but was made out of some soft, rubbery material, maybe like a dog's chew toy. Or it may just have been a wadded up piece of paper. I needed to prove how far I could throw the ball. I felt like I needed to throw the ball all the way through this room and through to the end of the gymnasium.
But I was worried about throwing the ball. I didn't know whether I'd be able to angle the ball well enough to get under the entrance from this room into the gym. If I angled the ball too high, it would hit the doorway and stay in this room. But if I angled the ball too low, it would start falling as it entered the gym and maybe hit one of the girls.
I couldn't decide what to do or how to throw. This made me feel weak. I didn't know how to throw the ball the right way. And so I couldn't prove myself. The man near me may have sensed my awkward feelings. He may have told me not to worry about it one way or the other.
But now I saw one of the girls in the gym throw a ball. She was little, kind of pale, and skinny, like a little dancer girl. She may have been all made up, and her hair may have been pulled back in a bun like dancer girls generally do for recitals. Her throw was perfect. It flew up sharply into the air and probably traveled all the way to the end of the gym.
I felt kind of bad about myself now. How could I not even know how to throw a ball, yet this cute, little girl could throw the ball perfectly? I knew that I should take this as inspiration at least to try and throw the ball.
But now there were young girls all over the gym. I didn't want to hit any of them because of my bad aim. I decided that I needed to get farther through this room and closer to the gymnasium so I could angle my throw better and not hit any of the girls.
But as I walked closer to the gym, the gym became an ice rink. The girls were all now wearing ice skates and white figure skating outfits with cute, fluttery, white skirts. But the girls were all playing ice hockey. They had huge hockey sticks. And apparently they were playing a really good game!
I wanted to see the hockey match now. I didn't even care about throwing the ball. I walked from the backstage room and into the hockey area. The backstage area opened directly into a small, white, plastic structure which was like a little kids' playhouse.
There was a window opening to a view of the game before me, and a window opening to a view of some benches where girls sat who were waiting to go into the game. There were tons of little girls out on the ice. But there were also tons of girls on the benches.
I kind of sat myself up on the windowsill that opened onto the benches. I looked over at the girls. I may have looked at their bottoms as they did something like stretches or warmups or something. The their uniform bottoms peeked out from under their white skirts. The bottoms may have been satiny and shiny. Some of them may have been gold. I was kind of turned on to see the girls' cute bottoms.
Now two older girls or young women walked into the little playhouse. They'd seen that I'd gone in here. They'd thought I'd come to watch the game -- though I no longer knew whether I was here to see the game or just to look at the little girls.
But the women thought they'd be able to get my attention by watching the game, too. Both women started talking about the game, showing off how much they knew about hockey, possibly trying to get me to take interest and talk to them.
One of the women stood up near the window looking onto the game. The other woman stood near the window I was sitting in, trying to get close to me. I thought I should probably pay attention to this woman. I could make her feel good about herself. And if she liked me, that would be nice for me, too. But I suddenly became terribly shy and frozen and had no idea what to do.
I was walking through a strange area at night with a woman. The area was like an aqueduct, but above the ground, not dug down into it. We may simply have been walking along the "floors" of some U- or L-shaped concrete structures that had been set up on the ground. This structure was in an area crowded with homes.
The woman and I spoke. But then I tried to ask her how to say something in German. I was trying to say "me, too," in German. But I didn't know how to say either word, though I was pretty sure I almost knew how to say "me."
I may have stuttered out some word, like "ich," or "mein," or "mich" a few times. But now the woman pretended like she couldn't understand what I was saying at all. She started speaking German, like she only spoke German and didn't speak any English. Plus she started acting really naive and chirpy, as if to confuse me even more.
I may actually have started trying to speak in other languages, including Spanish. But I really couldn't say a single word in any of those languages. I could only almost say words that I was pretty sure I almost knew.
Eventually I ended this whole game. I knew the woman spoke English. And I knew the only reason she was pretending she couldn't understand me was because I'm Hispanic and she wanted to pretend that I only spoke Spanish, so she couldn't understand me.
I said in English that I was trying to say something about how tall something was. I made a motion toward the concrete wall and said something about how something was so tall.
I then compared my hand and the woman's hand and said something about how tall our hands were. We both had our hands held out in my field of view. I was kind of surprised, because our hands were both kind of short and stubby looking, maybe also a little dirty looking.
As we looked at our hands we passed out of the concrete structure. We were before a kind of dense and cluttered set of thin homes or row houses. I motioned up toward one of the buildings -- a kind of modern looking home with yellow-painted, metal walls, ridged a little bit like a shipping container, which contrasted against a stormy, staticky, purple sky.
I again made some sort of comment about how tall the building was, hoping the woman would finally tell me how to say this phrase in German. I saw my brother (into whom the woman may have transformed?) walking somewhere near the top of the building. He may have been on the roof of the building. Or he may have been on a concrete path on a hill that was so steep that it almost reached the roof of the building.
I decided to follow my brother, maybe by running up the concrete path, or maybe by flying up onto the roof.
I may have run along some roofs like the roof of the modern house. But then we ran along a strange roof. It was like the roof was made up entirely of spires like spires of Japanese temples. We ran up and over these spires, which may all have been shingled with old wooden shingles and fronted with red-painted wood.
We eventually ran toward some proscenium- or shrine-like square-arch structure that signaled the end of the spire section of the roof. As we approached this area, some older, white man, kind of overweight, with a big belly, chased after us. It may now have been me, my brother, and a couple other boys.
The man started asking us what we were doing up on the roof. It felt like he was thinking of calling the police on us. I didn't think he would be right to call the police on us. But I was still afraid he would.
We decided we'd just leave the roof. We ran past the square-arch area, down a few wide roof slopes that were like big steps. We were still up on a roof (it was like we were just on some enormous complex of roofs). But now the roof was more like asphalt, like a road.
At this point, my brother, or maybe both of us, may have been black. We kind of stopped at one area of asphalt that seemed to be lifting or peeling up in a strip from the rest of the asphalt. The man asked us if we lived here. I said we did. I wasn't sure whether the man would believe us, or whether this would stop the man from calling the police on us.
Dream 2
I was in some huge room like the backstage of a theater. There were a lot of people around, and a lot of stuff was going on. The atmosphere was very brown, like everything was made out of wood: the walls, ceilings, fixtures, etc. I probably stood near a man who was like a boss or a mentor.
I could see all the way through the room, to a wide, tall opening into another room. The next room was like a gym. There also seemed to be a lot of stuff going on in there, like a lot of young girls, maybe junior high school girls, were playing around or practicing sports or something.
I wanted to throw a ball. It may have been a baseball or something that looked like a baseball but was made out of some soft, rubbery material, maybe like a dog's chew toy. Or it may just have been a wadded up piece of paper. I needed to prove how far I could throw the ball. I felt like I needed to throw the ball all the way through this room and through to the end of the gymnasium.
But I was worried about throwing the ball. I didn't know whether I'd be able to angle the ball well enough to get under the entrance from this room into the gym. If I angled the ball too high, it would hit the doorway and stay in this room. But if I angled the ball too low, it would start falling as it entered the gym and maybe hit one of the girls.
I couldn't decide what to do or how to throw. This made me feel weak. I didn't know how to throw the ball the right way. And so I couldn't prove myself. The man near me may have sensed my awkward feelings. He may have told me not to worry about it one way or the other.
But now I saw one of the girls in the gym throw a ball. She was little, kind of pale, and skinny, like a little dancer girl. She may have been all made up, and her hair may have been pulled back in a bun like dancer girls generally do for recitals. Her throw was perfect. It flew up sharply into the air and probably traveled all the way to the end of the gym.
I felt kind of bad about myself now. How could I not even know how to throw a ball, yet this cute, little girl could throw the ball perfectly? I knew that I should take this as inspiration at least to try and throw the ball.
But now there were young girls all over the gym. I didn't want to hit any of them because of my bad aim. I decided that I needed to get farther through this room and closer to the gymnasium so I could angle my throw better and not hit any of the girls.
But as I walked closer to the gym, the gym became an ice rink. The girls were all now wearing ice skates and white figure skating outfits with cute, fluttery, white skirts. But the girls were all playing ice hockey. They had huge hockey sticks. And apparently they were playing a really good game!
I wanted to see the hockey match now. I didn't even care about throwing the ball. I walked from the backstage room and into the hockey area. The backstage area opened directly into a small, white, plastic structure which was like a little kids' playhouse.
There was a window opening to a view of the game before me, and a window opening to a view of some benches where girls sat who were waiting to go into the game. There were tons of little girls out on the ice. But there were also tons of girls on the benches.
I kind of sat myself up on the windowsill that opened onto the benches. I looked over at the girls. I may have looked at their bottoms as they did something like stretches or warmups or something. The their uniform bottoms peeked out from under their white skirts. The bottoms may have been satiny and shiny. Some of them may have been gold. I was kind of turned on to see the girls' cute bottoms.
Now two older girls or young women walked into the little playhouse. They'd seen that I'd gone in here. They'd thought I'd come to watch the game -- though I no longer knew whether I was here to see the game or just to look at the little girls.
But the women thought they'd be able to get my attention by watching the game, too. Both women started talking about the game, showing off how much they knew about hockey, possibly trying to get me to take interest and talk to them.
One of the women stood up near the window looking onto the game. The other woman stood near the window I was sitting in, trying to get close to me. I thought I should probably pay attention to this woman. I could make her feel good about herself. And if she liked me, that would be nice for me, too. But I suddenly became terribly shy and frozen and had no idea what to do.
Tuesday, June 5, 2018
very expensive restaurant
Dream 1
I was at a restaurant. The restaurant was busy, probably full. I sat on a tall chair at a tall, round table that may have been pretty wide and made of thick wood. The table may have been cluttered with some stuff.
A waiter may have brought a menu. I may have looked over the menu and ordered something. The food I ordered came to something like $100. So the waiter took my order but also told me that I needed to order something else, or maybe he just put this other item on my order. But the total for my food, I now knew, would be $353.
I started to worry. $353 for food was way more than I could afford right now, while I was in between jobs. But the waiter brought the food I'd paid $100 for. I ate it, partly because I was hungry, but also partly because I didn't want to look like I was too poor to pay for the food.
In the middle of my meal, the waiter brought the check, which was probably this huge, yellow piece of paper, like the yellow page of a carbon paper receipt, except as big as paper from a large drawing pad. The check had the $100 item and the other item scrawled out in huge letters, probably in a huge, lined check grid.
I now understood that the other item I'd paid for that had brought my total to $353 wasn't actually food or even a product. It was just something I paid for, because the waiter had brought it up and I'd agreed to pay for it. The waiter smiled at me.
I may have been alone again, eating my food. I thought that it had been really unwise for me to pay so much money for an expense that I'd actually receive nothing from. Plus, now that my total bill was $353, it was really going to eat into the money in my bank account. I started to get afraid that I wouldn't be able to pay for this month's living expenses, including rent.
But I kept on eating. I knew I couldn't turn back on the bill now. So I figured I might as well keep on eating the food. The food may have been some huge plate of stew like goat stew with chickpeas or something in it.
I was at a restaurant. The restaurant was busy, probably full. I sat on a tall chair at a tall, round table that may have been pretty wide and made of thick wood. The table may have been cluttered with some stuff.
A waiter may have brought a menu. I may have looked over the menu and ordered something. The food I ordered came to something like $100. So the waiter took my order but also told me that I needed to order something else, or maybe he just put this other item on my order. But the total for my food, I now knew, would be $353.
I started to worry. $353 for food was way more than I could afford right now, while I was in between jobs. But the waiter brought the food I'd paid $100 for. I ate it, partly because I was hungry, but also partly because I didn't want to look like I was too poor to pay for the food.
In the middle of my meal, the waiter brought the check, which was probably this huge, yellow piece of paper, like the yellow page of a carbon paper receipt, except as big as paper from a large drawing pad. The check had the $100 item and the other item scrawled out in huge letters, probably in a huge, lined check grid.
I now understood that the other item I'd paid for that had brought my total to $353 wasn't actually food or even a product. It was just something I paid for, because the waiter had brought it up and I'd agreed to pay for it. The waiter smiled at me.
I may have been alone again, eating my food. I thought that it had been really unwise for me to pay so much money for an expense that I'd actually receive nothing from. Plus, now that my total bill was $353, it was really going to eat into the money in my bank account. I started to get afraid that I wouldn't be able to pay for this month's living expenses, including rent.
But I kept on eating. I knew I couldn't turn back on the bill now. So I figured I might as well keep on eating the food. The food may have been some huge plate of stew like goat stew with chickpeas or something in it.
Monday, June 4, 2018
huge roller coasters
Dream 1
It was a bright, sunny day. I was at an amusement park.
I saw a few huge roller coasters. One of the roller coasters did something like just go straight up. Another coaster may have been elevated pretty high in the air, and it would shoot the cars up and down on a U-shaped track, like a roller coaster version of a sea dragon ride. Another coaster did something where you were upside down a lot.
I thought to myself how I wouldn't want to ride any of these coasters. Nowadays my heart is so bad that they might kill me. But I was also just afraid.
I walked to the edge of the park. It was just a couple of huge lawns, crossed by some concrete footpaths and edged along the left side with a couple of small, wooden food stands.
It was a bright, sunny day. I was at an amusement park.
I saw a few huge roller coasters. One of the roller coasters did something like just go straight up. Another coaster may have been elevated pretty high in the air, and it would shoot the cars up and down on a U-shaped track, like a roller coaster version of a sea dragon ride. Another coaster did something where you were upside down a lot.
I thought to myself how I wouldn't want to ride any of these coasters. Nowadays my heart is so bad that they might kill me. But I was also just afraid.
I walked to the edge of the park. It was just a couple of huge lawns, crossed by some concrete footpaths and edged along the left side with a couple of small, wooden food stands.
But at the edge of the park were a few more roller coasters. They were enormous, with shining bright white tracks. One of them had a weird, vertical shape. The other did a corkscrew-like series of loops.
At first I thought I might be able to do the looping coaster. But then I realized how big it was. I said, "No, no, no, no, no." I may have been with a friend at this time.
But then I realized that these roller coasters at this end of the park were all under construction, anyway. So I wouldn't have to ride them. This whole part of the park may actually have been under construction.
Sunday, June 3, 2018
clean your toilet
Dream 1
I stood before a toilet with a kind of tall white man who may have been in his late twenties or early thirties. The man was sort of muscular, with a slightly stubbly face and somewhat well-groomed and slicked hair.
The man's son, a little boy maybe five or six years old, was nearby. The man was keeping the boy away from the toilet, calling, "Stay away. Don't look in there!"
The man's statement to the boy was as much a reprimand to me as it was a warning to the boy. The man may actually even have told me, "Clean your toilet."
I looked at the toilet bowl. It was disgusting. It was like the entire thing was coated in something like nacho cheese, except that the nacho cheese was somehow rusted. I may have flushed the toilet. A little bit of the gunk caking the toilet lifted away from the porcelain of the bowl like a flap of skin.
I thought to myself that it might take a while for me to clean this thing.
I stood before a toilet with a kind of tall white man who may have been in his late twenties or early thirties. The man was sort of muscular, with a slightly stubbly face and somewhat well-groomed and slicked hair.
The man's son, a little boy maybe five or six years old, was nearby. The man was keeping the boy away from the toilet, calling, "Stay away. Don't look in there!"
The man's statement to the boy was as much a reprimand to me as it was a warning to the boy. The man may actually even have told me, "Clean your toilet."
I looked at the toilet bowl. It was disgusting. It was like the entire thing was coated in something like nacho cheese, except that the nacho cheese was somehow rusted. I may have flushed the toilet. A little bit of the gunk caking the toilet lifted away from the porcelain of the bowl like a flap of skin.
I thought to myself that it might take a while for me to clean this thing.
Saturday, June 2, 2018
sales karate
Dream 1
I was in some space like a lobby for a hotel or theater, or possibly some fancy, old restaurant where there are various levels separated from each other by a few stairsteps. The atmosphere was calmly bright and active. A lot of people may have been milling about.
I was with my oldest nephew. But he was young, maybe only five or six years old. He was either practicing martial arts or else giving an acting performance about the martial arts. He stood at the top of a staircase, facing away from the steps. A man stood facing my nephew, a couple meters away. The man was probably tall, bald, white, and wiry.
Apparently the story was that the man facing my nephew would come at him. But my nephew would somehow cause the man, who was much bigger than he, to fall down the steps. Possibly this performance had been done before. But my nephew may have been attacked that time, or may simply have managed to make the man fall down the steps. So now my nephew was worried he wouldn't succeed. But I was sure he'd been fine.
I tried to figure in my head how exactly my nephew would get the man thrown down the steps. I thought he might throw the man. But then I realized he might just step out of the way at the right moment and let the man fly down the steps on his own momentum.
Now I was in my nephew's place. But I wasn't my nephew. My nephew was still around. But it was like I stepped in for him, possibly to make sure the man fell down the steps.
The man came at me. I'm honestly not sure what happened next. I may have caught the man and used his momentum to throw him. Or I may have just let him fall.
But whatever I did, the man flew up in the air, like he'd been thrown. He flipped over, so that his head was pointed straight down. Then he descended straight down, either onto the floor or onto the last step before the floor. He landed on his head. He bounced, then landed on his back a few meters away. I knew the man had likely broken his neck. I wasn't sure I'd meant things to end like that.
I ran down the steps to meet the man. He was surrounded by a bunch of people now. His feet may have been at the very edge of a platform for a train, like a train was pulling up directly into this restaurant- or hotel-like area.
I looked at the man. I may have held his head in my hands. The man looked up through woozy, slitted eyes. I could tell the man was either paralyzed or at the brink of death.
I was now in some dark area that was like an indoor area of a hotel, with a lot of elevated planters filled with plants and some separated, gazebo like areas that people could sit in. The area was mostly dark. But lights shone on some of the structures, possibly because people were using those structures at the moment.
I was carrying something that was supposed to be work-related papers. But it was actually a woman's blouse, or some kind of top. It was a dull blue, possibly with paisley designs on it. It was probably sleeveless. It had a satiny feel. And it may have been stained with something like chocolate.
I walked up to two old coworkers from a job I left in March. One was one of the tech leads: an older, white woman, overweight, her face a little worn out, with darkish blonde hair. The other was the head of sales: a bald, white man about my height, but wider and more muscular.
I may have realized at this point that my "work papers" were a sales pitch. I may have come down to this area to practice my sales pitch. I'd run into the tech woman and sales guy by accident. This was inconvenient. I didn't want them to start paying attention to me and stop me from taking care of my task.
But I may also have had to take care of some other task with the tech woman and sales guy. So I may have thought I'd just take care of it now, while they were in front of me. As I approached them, possibly to present my "work papers," I had an edge of the blouse crammed in my mouth, and I was sucking and slobbering on it.
The tech woman may have taken some actual papers from me. Or she may have acknowledged that I'd brought the papers. But she sort of made it clear that she didn't really want to talk to me. And as soon as she could, she started hurrying away, possibly saying something to shove me off onto the sales guy.
But the sales guy didn't want to talk to me, either. He noticed that I had my "work papers" in my hands. He remembered that I was studying a sales pitch. He may have said at some point (i.e. before the dream) that he'd help me study the pitch. But he hadn't really wanted to, and I hadn't really wanted him to.
The sales guy apologized to me for not having helped me learn my pitch. I possibly didn't say anything in return, not wanting the guy to gauge any of my reactions in a way that would make him want to help me.
But then the sales guy may have asked me for my "work papers." I didn't want to give them to him -- possibly because I didn't want him to take away the sales pitch before I learned it (he'd probably wanted to stop me from learning it); but also because I really did know that I was just holding a slobbery, chocolate-stained blouse in my hands, and I didn't want the sales guy to notice this. So I didn't know what I should do.
I was in some space like a lobby for a hotel or theater, or possibly some fancy, old restaurant where there are various levels separated from each other by a few stairsteps. The atmosphere was calmly bright and active. A lot of people may have been milling about.
I was with my oldest nephew. But he was young, maybe only five or six years old. He was either practicing martial arts or else giving an acting performance about the martial arts. He stood at the top of a staircase, facing away from the steps. A man stood facing my nephew, a couple meters away. The man was probably tall, bald, white, and wiry.
Apparently the story was that the man facing my nephew would come at him. But my nephew would somehow cause the man, who was much bigger than he, to fall down the steps. Possibly this performance had been done before. But my nephew may have been attacked that time, or may simply have managed to make the man fall down the steps. So now my nephew was worried he wouldn't succeed. But I was sure he'd been fine.
I tried to figure in my head how exactly my nephew would get the man thrown down the steps. I thought he might throw the man. But then I realized he might just step out of the way at the right moment and let the man fly down the steps on his own momentum.
Now I was in my nephew's place. But I wasn't my nephew. My nephew was still around. But it was like I stepped in for him, possibly to make sure the man fell down the steps.
The man came at me. I'm honestly not sure what happened next. I may have caught the man and used his momentum to throw him. Or I may have just let him fall.
But whatever I did, the man flew up in the air, like he'd been thrown. He flipped over, so that his head was pointed straight down. Then he descended straight down, either onto the floor or onto the last step before the floor. He landed on his head. He bounced, then landed on his back a few meters away. I knew the man had likely broken his neck. I wasn't sure I'd meant things to end like that.
I ran down the steps to meet the man. He was surrounded by a bunch of people now. His feet may have been at the very edge of a platform for a train, like a train was pulling up directly into this restaurant- or hotel-like area.
I looked at the man. I may have held his head in my hands. The man looked up through woozy, slitted eyes. I could tell the man was either paralyzed or at the brink of death.
I was now in some dark area that was like an indoor area of a hotel, with a lot of elevated planters filled with plants and some separated, gazebo like areas that people could sit in. The area was mostly dark. But lights shone on some of the structures, possibly because people were using those structures at the moment.
I was carrying something that was supposed to be work-related papers. But it was actually a woman's blouse, or some kind of top. It was a dull blue, possibly with paisley designs on it. It was probably sleeveless. It had a satiny feel. And it may have been stained with something like chocolate.
I walked up to two old coworkers from a job I left in March. One was one of the tech leads: an older, white woman, overweight, her face a little worn out, with darkish blonde hair. The other was the head of sales: a bald, white man about my height, but wider and more muscular.
I may have realized at this point that my "work papers" were a sales pitch. I may have come down to this area to practice my sales pitch. I'd run into the tech woman and sales guy by accident. This was inconvenient. I didn't want them to start paying attention to me and stop me from taking care of my task.
But I may also have had to take care of some other task with the tech woman and sales guy. So I may have thought I'd just take care of it now, while they were in front of me. As I approached them, possibly to present my "work papers," I had an edge of the blouse crammed in my mouth, and I was sucking and slobbering on it.
The tech woman may have taken some actual papers from me. Or she may have acknowledged that I'd brought the papers. But she sort of made it clear that she didn't really want to talk to me. And as soon as she could, she started hurrying away, possibly saying something to shove me off onto the sales guy.
But the sales guy didn't want to talk to me, either. He noticed that I had my "work papers" in my hands. He remembered that I was studying a sales pitch. He may have said at some point (i.e. before the dream) that he'd help me study the pitch. But he hadn't really wanted to, and I hadn't really wanted him to.
The sales guy apologized to me for not having helped me learn my pitch. I possibly didn't say anything in return, not wanting the guy to gauge any of my reactions in a way that would make him want to help me.
But then the sales guy may have asked me for my "work papers." I didn't want to give them to him -- possibly because I didn't want him to take away the sales pitch before I learned it (he'd probably wanted to stop me from learning it); but also because I really did know that I was just holding a slobbery, chocolate-stained blouse in my hands, and I didn't want the sales guy to notice this. So I didn't know what I should do.
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