Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was in a cafe, sitting by myself at a small table. The cafe was dim, but it felt cozy. It probably had red and green Christmas lights strung along the ceiling. The cafe seemed to be pretty active, even though I didn't really see a lot of people.
At a small table in front of me and off to my right sat my old best friend R and a little boy. The little boy was pale, but his skin had a slight olive tint to it. The boy had pale red-brown hair and a kind of chubby face. He may have been wearing a white button-up shirt and khaki slacks.
The boy was speaking with R. R listened and responded in a very comfortable, casual way. Something, though, seemed odd about the conversation. It then occurred to me -- R and the boy were speaking in Hindi! I was surprised that R had learned Hindi so fluently. I was also a little bit jealous. I noticed that R had a big binder with him. I wondered if he weren't helping the boy out with some kind of project that involved the binder.
Somehow I knew that to learn more about how or why R learned Hindi, I needed to go speak with a woman with whom R was working. But this woman had just walked out of the cafe and was about to drive away.
I ran outside to catch up with the woman. "Outside" seemed a little bit like a sound stage. The "sky" was just a huge, greyish screen. The woman's car was something like a motorized golf cart decorated with all kinds of metallic tinsel and garlands in red, green, and possibly other bright colors. There were also paper decorations all over the golf cart, like paper cut-outs with hand-drawn designs like concentric stars and so forth.
The woman sat in the front seat. A handsome, Southeast Asian man sat in the backseat. I hopped up on the cart in between the two and quickly asked the woman if my friend R had really learned Hindi. The woman said that R had indeed learned Hindi. As the woman continued speaking with me, I began picking at some red foam covering on one of the poles holding up the roof of the golf cart. The man in the backseat grabbed my hand and stopped me from picking at the pole.
The woman began driving away, even as I was still standing on the side of the golf cart. We were now driving along outside (or at least some place that was more like the outdoors and less like a sound stage). We were driving through a small corridor of road between two walls of tall, crumbling-brick buildings. The roads were packed, more with people than with vehicles.
The woman continued. She said it was necessary for R to learn Hindi, as he was going to travel to India with her. As the woman said this, the man, who was now older, less attractive, fatter-faced, and with a huge, Mario-esque mustache, was attempting to roll a cigarette. But he dropped the half-rolled cigarette on the floor of the golf cart. He cursed loudly, trying to get my and the woman's attention.
I felt a little bad for not giving the man my attention. I felt, now, like he was actually one of the clients this woman was going to see in India. If we didn't pay attention, I thought, it would be like we weren't valuing his business. I noticed now that the man had bent over to pick up his cigarette. The contents were intact on the paper. But now, instead of picking up the cigarette, the man sprinkled some white stuff, like cocaine mixed with powdered sugar, on top of the tobacco.
The woman continued. She said that if you go to India, you absolutely have to speak Hindi. If you walk around, speaking only English, and not understanding when people speak Hindi, people will just think you're an idiot.
Dream #2
I was in a subway train, sitting in a seat perpendicular to a wall, so that my left side faced a window. The space outside suddenly became dark, like everything had faded into blackness. Suddenly I felt a drop, like the ground had fallen out beneath the subway tracks.
I now saw the subway train falling through the ground. The train was now falling through the ceiling and toward the floor of another subterranean space. We had to fall at least twenty meters. But we were falling, it seemed, in slow motion. I braced myself. I knew once we hit the ground, we'd crash hard.
My vision itself faded to almost complete darkness. We crashed to the ground. The subway train shook heavily. But then it was over. I didn't seem to be hurt or even very affected, other than being a little shaken up. I was now standing outside the subway train, in the huge enclosed space.
The space seemed, at first, like an enormous warehouse, or like a long stretch of road directly underneath a long stretch of highway overpass or elevated train lines. It may even have seemed like there was light off in the distance. The floor of the place seemed to be polished concrete.
But when I turned around and walked away from the subway wreckage, I was in an actual subway tunnel, walking along subway tracks. Occasional fluorescent lights lit the dim, grimy passageways with a greenish-white glow. The subway tunnel snaked along, constantly twisting and turning.
There were now two young, Southeast Asian men walking in front of me. The men were both short and very skinny, with dark-copper complexions. They had well-groomed hair, kind of long and sweeping on the bangs. They both wore nice shirts and slacks. One man wore a purple shirt. The other probably wore a white shirt.
We eventually found a door that led to a narrow hallway like a hallway full of offices or small shops. The hallway twisted and turned, just like the subway tunnel had done. The hallway had white tiles on the floor. The walls were a mixture of white tile and glass, allowing ample views into each office or shop. Red, green, and blue lights illuminated the floors and walls of the hallway.
The young men and I were just looking for a door that would lead us to some passageway leading up and out of the subway. We knew that this area was actually a kind of operations office area for the subway -- even though the hallway also felt like a mall or small shopping plaza of some kind. I believe people who didn't work for the subway system weren't allowed to be down here. The area was kind of top secret. So we were just trying to get through and out of the area as quickly as possible.
Occasionally we'd see some nicely dressed young man or woman, who we knew was one of the subway workers. We'd have to hide from this person. The young men thought that if one of the workers saw us, they'd get us in trouble or trap us down here. I personally thought that maybe one of the workers could help us find the right way out of the hallway.
Eventually we may have found a door that led out of the hallway.
Dream #3
I was at a karaoke bar, sitting at the bar. The bar was wide and long, twisting off to my left and right. The rest of the bar was enormous as well, possibly full of people, even though I didn't seem to be really aware of the other people around me. The walls seemed really tall and dark, almost fading into blackness, like on a sound stage. There may have been a couple tiers of seating areas, and the seats may have been big, round booths.
Some karaoke event was just now wrapping up. I don't think I had really been interested in it. The karaoke had all been in English, and it had all been stuff like contemporary Country music, which I didn't care for very much. I was wondering if we would be given any chance to sing some Japanese karaoke.
This whole time, a man in maybe his late twenties or early thirties sat about two stools off to my right. We never spoke, but I was, for some reason, terribly self-conscious around the guy. He was tall and a tiny bit overweight, like he'd let his muscle recently fade to flab. He had a well-trimmed beard and long, long blonde-brown hair that seemed to be on the verge of greying. He wore a white t-shirt.
Now the karaoke event was over. Some regular music was playing on the speakers. There may also have been a huge video screen somewhere playing videos along with the song. The woman behind the bar now threw out a few books onto the bar counter.
I picked up one of the books. It was a thin book, like a thin paperback novel. The cover had some black and white, manga-like line-drawing of a young man. Behind the young man was a kind of psychedelic series of orange, green, and pink stripes.
The title of the book was something like "Comic Karaoke" or "Anime Karaoke." I knew this meant that karaoke was now going to be opened up to Japanese songs. But the only Japanese songs that were available were the ones in this book -- which only included songs that were featured in anime. This was kind of disappointing to me. There were plenty of songs I wanted to sing that I knew weren't in anime. And I really didn't know anime well enough to know which of the songs I knew were actually in an anime.
Nevertheless, I flipped through the pages of the book, kind of holding the book at a strange, high angle over my head, trying to see what songs I might know. The song titles and band names were all in Japanese, which made things a little difficult for me, as my knowledge of Japanese writing is only so-so.
As I flipped through the book, I could feel that people were ready for the next karaoke session to start. But nobody seemed to be singing. I felt like I was obliged to sing. It even seemed like the girl behind the bar and the man sitting beside me were waiting for me to sing.
Even worse, I knew that if I didn't start singing something soon, somebody would go back up and start singing a contemporary Country song. That would start off this session on a bad trend of contemporary Country songs, which I didn't want to have to deal with all over again.
Dream #4
I was in a classroom, possibly at a high school, but most likely at a university. I may have walked into the classroom, as if I were going to take a test, like a final examination, or give some big presentation.
I was walking toward one of the desks in the second or third row, while other students were filing into their desks around me. Some of these kids were carrying huge, clunky technology projects with them. Other kids seemed to be gossiping with each other. I was kind of afraid of the gossiping kids, like I was nervous that they'd start making fun of me.
But now I was standing at the front of the class, not in the center of the room, but at the right side of the room, near the doorway, as students were still filing in. The teacher, a kind of tall, young man with an olive complexion, a bluish shadow of stubble around his cheeks, round, nerdy, eyeglasses, and a wavy, clunky, nerdy haircut, stood before me.
There seemed to be piles of women's clothes all around me. The young teacher was having me try on all these women's clothes, right in front of everybody. At times, while I tried on these clothes, I seemed to be myself, as a boy. At other times, I seemed to be an Asian girl, really pretty, with a nice body, nice, long, soft, brown hair in a kind of spiky-flouncy ponytail, and a nice, round bottom. At other times I may have been a mixture of myself and this Asian girl. (I think I really enjoyed the feeling of having the girl's round bottom!)
The two outfits I remember were a beige, dress-like outfit and a yellow, dress-like outfit. Both outfits were all lace, and they clung tightly to my body. I seemed to be wearing a g-string under the outfit. The g-string may possibly have been connected to the outfit. I thought of these outfits as dresses. But they were so see-through and form-fitting, that I now think they must have been lingerie.
Even though I enjoyed wearing the women's clothes, I was really afraid to have everybody in the classroom see me in these outfits -- especially with my ass showing so plainly through a g-string and lace! I knew I needed to change my clothes. But I didn't know where my boy clothes were. I thought I must have left them in some other room.
I was now walking through the hallway, toward some other room where I thought my boy clothes were. I was dressed in the yellow lace outfit. I don't know whether I was myself or the girl. But I was really afraid of everybody looking at me. I was especially afraid of everybody seeing my ass so plainly through this lingerie. I knew once people saw me this way, they'd always have this as a part of my identity in their minds. I didn't know if I wanted that. But I'm pretty sure I also still liked wearing the clothes.
Dream #5
I was sitting at a desk in an office. I sat in one office room that joined to another office room instead of opening out into a larger office space. Behind me stood one of my old bosses, DO, and one of our teammates, MW.
Both DO and MW thought that some online government statistical database was no longer putting out new data releases. But I knew the agency was still releasing data. The data was just being released through another channel. I accessed the data all the time.
I showed DO and MW the correct way to navigate to the data, and even how to locate the specific data they might be looking for. There was a blank white screen with a few brownish-colored links and some black type below the links saying what each link was. I clicked on one of the links.
DO asked me if I could just go ahead and print out the data for him. I printed out the data. MW walked to a printer that stood on a folding table behind me. As MW did this, DO began to explain something to me about this data and the reason for its periodical releases. Something about what DO was explaining to me was very new and informative. Something else about it was so well known to me that I felt like DO must really think, if he thought I didn't know it, that I was really stupid.
As DO began explaining this stuff to me, his face began shifting into the face of another teammate of ours, MD. As DO's face shifted into MD's face, DO's speech became more and more condescending and, really, banal. I had to struggle more and more to keep up an interested expression.
Eventually I may have come to understand that everything I had just been a part of had been a test. If I could successfully produce this data for DO and MW and understand everything DO was saying, DO and MW would give me a position on their new team. And apparently I had made it through the test. I was now officially working on the team.
Showing posts with label anime. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anime. Show all posts
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
depression elevator; "child" applebee's; nuclear theater; spinach jar; child in bedroom
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was in a hotel elevator. The elevator may have been going directly upward at first. But then it shifted its direction, going upward and forward at the same time, like an escalator. Eventually the elevator had a completely open front. I could see that the elevator box was traveling along a track very much like the track of an escalator.
The elevator dropped me off at the twenty-ninth floor. As I was easing my way up to the floor, a computer voice from somewhere began to tell me that, because of the fees I'd paid to stay at the hotel, I was only granted a limited amount of access to the hotel. My room was on the twenty-ninth floor, and I was not allowed to travel to certain other floors without permission.
I knew this had something to do with the Great Depression. It was like I was in the year 1929 in America, and that the Great Depression had begun. Hotels were giving people like me special discounts, so they could still patronize the hotels. But the discounts included restricted access to other parts of the building, like the restrictions I was receiving.
But one of my friends was actually staying on the fifteenth floor -- one of the restricted floors. I knew I'd have to ask my friend to give me permission to come down and visit him/her. I was walking around in the hotel hallway. But it was also like I was already talking with my friend on the phone.
I was now in a hotel room, with either a young man, maybe my brother, or an attractive, young, Asian woman. I was trying to explain to this person why I needed permission to come down. Of course, it was obvious that I already had permission from the person. We were friends. But I needed to make the permission official. But even this seemed like a moot point to me now. I may already have been in this friend's room -- this may have been the friend's room, not mine.
I looked down at a vanity that was built into the wall. On the vanity's countertop were some makeup kits and other beauty supplies, as well as some wet washcloths.
Dream #2
A young woman, maybe in her early twenties, was joking with me about the restaurant Applebee's. It was like the woman and I were part of some business that had Applebee's as an account: like we were advertisers or maybe some large shopping complex where Applebee's had had a restaurant.
But the woman was joking that everybody now called Applebee's "'child' Applebee's." This derisive name was due to the fact that Applebee's had canceled its account with our company. The cancellation had occurred, actually, because of an issue that our company did not feel was a big deal, but which Applebee's did feel was a big deal: a woman over the age of eighteen, having an affair with a woman under the age of eighteen, was found taking the girl out for dinner at an Applebee's.
I now saw a paper. I probably thought it was a newspaper, but it was really just a sheet of paper. It gave the story of the two girls having the affair. Both of the girls were from France. The older girl, who was twenty-three years old, was probably the daughter of some high-level French official, like a French ambassador. The girl's lover was sixteen years old.
There may actually have been some rule in France that said a girl over the age of sixteen was considered to be of the age of consent. So the two girls weren't really breaking the law, in France, by having an affair with each other. The Applebee's they may have been caught eating at may even have been in France. But it may have been in America.
Either way, girls over the age of eighteen taking girls under the age of eighteen out to dinner was against Applebee's policy, either in America or in France. A stuffy waiter, a lot like a French waiter, asked the two girls to leave the Applebee's. The two girls must have caused some sort of a fuss in reaction to the request to leave.
The whole issue became really big news. Some people supported Applebee's decision. But the company I worked for did not support it. So Applebee's canceled its account with my company. And, to make fun of Applebee's, everybody at my company called it "'child' Applebee's."
Dream #3
I had a view of the deck of a war ship, like I was seeing the ship on a television show, but also like I was actually floating, disembodied, over the ship. The deck was itself like a stage, rather than like a real war ship's deck. There was definitely a crowd, like a theater crowd, somewhere beyond the edge of the deck. And there were a few men in naval outfits on either side of the deck, standing still, like a chorus.
A door opened at the back of the deck/stage. From out of a yellow-lit passageway walked Mikhail Gorbachev, the former President of the Soviet Union -- though I might have taken him in my dream for Russian President Vladimir Putin. Gorbachev/Putin was visibly angry. Apparently the United States had taken a stand that Russia did not agree with. This decision was pushing Russian statesmen to the brink of considering war with the United States.
Gorbachev/Putin began a speech. He quickly got even angrier as he spoke. His eyes began bugging out of his head. It seemed, even as he spoke, that he was considering escalating the conflict immediately to nuclear war.
Gorbachev/Putin began trying to insinuate this without coming right out and saying it. But he stuttered as he tried to come up with subtle ways of threatening nuclear war. Eventually he had a model of a nuclear bomb, like the old 1940s/1950s style nuclear bombs, in his arms. The model was about two meters long. It was lightweight, maybe made of plastic, and it had a dull, gold color.
Gorbachev/Putin eventually flung this bomb across the stage. The model bomb landed in a pig pen. There were two or three men in sailor outfits standing around in the pen. The model bomb clattered around at the men's feet.
Now the whole thing was like a comedy, or at least like some kind of stage production, rather than anything that would become a reality. Gorbachev, who was now probably only Gorbachev, was standing flanked on either side by a sailor. The sailors seemed to be there to support Gorbachev in case he got weak. Gorbachev was wearing some kind of wooden, cubic frame around his head. This frame was supposed to symbolize a space helmet or oxygen helmet or something.
Gorbachev was acting like he was visiting an area which had just been struck by a nuclear bomb. This area was probably supposed to be in America -- another "subtle" indication of what Russian officials were planning. But when Gorbachev took off his helmet to see what America looked like, he was stricken with sorrow. The audience could all tell that all Gorbachev could "see" was desolation.
Gorbachev, carrying out this act even further, began to cry. But now the radiation poisoning was getting to him. He was beginning to faint. The sailors on either side of Gorbachev were holding him up. Gorbachev had something like an oxygen tube, a white, plastic tube, running into his mouth. Gorbachev's eyes rolled up into the back of his head.
I took all of this to mean that Gorbachev could see that starting a nucelar war would lead to the destruction of too many lives, and that Gorbachev had decided not to start a nuclear war with the United States after all.
Dream #4
I was in the living room of "my family's house." The living room looked unfinished, like it had the shape of a living room, my great grandmother's old living room, in fact, but like there were no carpets or plaster walls. Everything seemed to be made out of a dingy, greenish stone. My mom was standing up at some counter, taking care of something. I was laying, stomach-down, on the floor. There were other people wandering about.
I was staring at a huge jar of what I called spinach. The jar was the shape of a pickle jar. But it was about 75cm tall. It was filled with water and what looked like long-stalked wildflowers. The flowers had very small, dull-colored blossoms, like the flower was fading out. But the stalks, stuck down all the way into the water, were lush, dark green, and flowing with leafs.
The water was beginning to heat up from the bottom and center of the jar. I knew this actually had something to do with the vegetation. The jar was packed full of these wildflowers. And the wildflowers acted in such a way that, when they reached a certain density and mass, they would heat up greatly. If the wildflowers were put into water, therefore, they could cause the water to boil, thus allowing the flowers to boil themselves.
I knew this "spinach" was being prepared by my mother for a meal that I was expected to partake in. But I didn't want to eat this meal. I didn't want to have to eat a meal that had been prepared in the unsanitary conditions of this house.
Dream #5
I was in some room like a living room. I may have been sitting or laying on the floor. I looked off to my right, down a hallway. I saw that the doorway to "my bedroom" was open. Someone must have found a way to get past the lock on my door and get into my room.
I was a bit panicked. I stood up and walked into the room. My room was full of all kinds of brightly colored junk. It was a complete mess. But apparently I had left it this way. I began looking around my room. I wanted to make sure nothing was missing. But in all this disorganization, I realized that something was, in fact, missing from my room. Now I knew someone had gotten into my room.
I was pretty sure that the person who'd gotten into my room was still in my room. So I hunted around in all the clutter for that person. I'd been near my bed. Now I walked to the other side of my room, to a closet that was wide open, with no doors, packed full of clutter.
Something behind me got my attention. I now saw that a little, Asian boy (?) was sitting atop a bunch of clutter, actually sitting inside a drawer that had been pulled out of a dresser and had been laying empty atop the pile of clutter.
I walked over to the little boy. All this time, I'd had a feeling that one of my younger relatives, maybe a nephew, had been the one to get into my room. Now my suspicion was confirmed (even though I didn't actually know this boy). The little boy was darling and cute, so I didn't really bother him. I treated him nicely, figuring I'd just make sure he didn't have anything of mine and then get him out of my room.
But somehow my attention got distracted by something up and off to my left. It was like DVD cases for anime shows were flashing up in that corner of my vision. I started looking at the DVD cases. There were a lot of different animes. I remembered some of them. Others were unfamiliar. Most of them looked interesting.
I may have begun talking about the various animes, as if I were talking to the little boy. But the boy was now gone. I was in the room by myself. But I was still carrying on this anime conversation, as if I were having an actual back and forth conversation with someone in my head.
The conversation actually turned to a contentious point. I can't remember what the point was. But my argument against the point was that if somebody had a wide knowledge of anime, they could name the shows they were talking about. But, I also argued, if somebody didn't have a wide knowledge of anime, they could still probably bring up certain shows as examples of something, because they'd like things enough or be familiar enough with themes that they'd know what kind of shows to look for as examples.
Dream #1
I was in a hotel elevator. The elevator may have been going directly upward at first. But then it shifted its direction, going upward and forward at the same time, like an escalator. Eventually the elevator had a completely open front. I could see that the elevator box was traveling along a track very much like the track of an escalator.
The elevator dropped me off at the twenty-ninth floor. As I was easing my way up to the floor, a computer voice from somewhere began to tell me that, because of the fees I'd paid to stay at the hotel, I was only granted a limited amount of access to the hotel. My room was on the twenty-ninth floor, and I was not allowed to travel to certain other floors without permission.
I knew this had something to do with the Great Depression. It was like I was in the year 1929 in America, and that the Great Depression had begun. Hotels were giving people like me special discounts, so they could still patronize the hotels. But the discounts included restricted access to other parts of the building, like the restrictions I was receiving.
But one of my friends was actually staying on the fifteenth floor -- one of the restricted floors. I knew I'd have to ask my friend to give me permission to come down and visit him/her. I was walking around in the hotel hallway. But it was also like I was already talking with my friend on the phone.
I was now in a hotel room, with either a young man, maybe my brother, or an attractive, young, Asian woman. I was trying to explain to this person why I needed permission to come down. Of course, it was obvious that I already had permission from the person. We were friends. But I needed to make the permission official. But even this seemed like a moot point to me now. I may already have been in this friend's room -- this may have been the friend's room, not mine.
I looked down at a vanity that was built into the wall. On the vanity's countertop were some makeup kits and other beauty supplies, as well as some wet washcloths.
Dream #2
A young woman, maybe in her early twenties, was joking with me about the restaurant Applebee's. It was like the woman and I were part of some business that had Applebee's as an account: like we were advertisers or maybe some large shopping complex where Applebee's had had a restaurant.
But the woman was joking that everybody now called Applebee's "'child' Applebee's." This derisive name was due to the fact that Applebee's had canceled its account with our company. The cancellation had occurred, actually, because of an issue that our company did not feel was a big deal, but which Applebee's did feel was a big deal: a woman over the age of eighteen, having an affair with a woman under the age of eighteen, was found taking the girl out for dinner at an Applebee's.
I now saw a paper. I probably thought it was a newspaper, but it was really just a sheet of paper. It gave the story of the two girls having the affair. Both of the girls were from France. The older girl, who was twenty-three years old, was probably the daughter of some high-level French official, like a French ambassador. The girl's lover was sixteen years old.
There may actually have been some rule in France that said a girl over the age of sixteen was considered to be of the age of consent. So the two girls weren't really breaking the law, in France, by having an affair with each other. The Applebee's they may have been caught eating at may even have been in France. But it may have been in America.
Either way, girls over the age of eighteen taking girls under the age of eighteen out to dinner was against Applebee's policy, either in America or in France. A stuffy waiter, a lot like a French waiter, asked the two girls to leave the Applebee's. The two girls must have caused some sort of a fuss in reaction to the request to leave.
The whole issue became really big news. Some people supported Applebee's decision. But the company I worked for did not support it. So Applebee's canceled its account with my company. And, to make fun of Applebee's, everybody at my company called it "'child' Applebee's."
Dream #3
I had a view of the deck of a war ship, like I was seeing the ship on a television show, but also like I was actually floating, disembodied, over the ship. The deck was itself like a stage, rather than like a real war ship's deck. There was definitely a crowd, like a theater crowd, somewhere beyond the edge of the deck. And there were a few men in naval outfits on either side of the deck, standing still, like a chorus.
A door opened at the back of the deck/stage. From out of a yellow-lit passageway walked Mikhail Gorbachev, the former President of the Soviet Union -- though I might have taken him in my dream for Russian President Vladimir Putin. Gorbachev/Putin was visibly angry. Apparently the United States had taken a stand that Russia did not agree with. This decision was pushing Russian statesmen to the brink of considering war with the United States.
Gorbachev/Putin began a speech. He quickly got even angrier as he spoke. His eyes began bugging out of his head. It seemed, even as he spoke, that he was considering escalating the conflict immediately to nuclear war.
Gorbachev/Putin began trying to insinuate this without coming right out and saying it. But he stuttered as he tried to come up with subtle ways of threatening nuclear war. Eventually he had a model of a nuclear bomb, like the old 1940s/1950s style nuclear bombs, in his arms. The model was about two meters long. It was lightweight, maybe made of plastic, and it had a dull, gold color.
Gorbachev/Putin eventually flung this bomb across the stage. The model bomb landed in a pig pen. There were two or three men in sailor outfits standing around in the pen. The model bomb clattered around at the men's feet.
Now the whole thing was like a comedy, or at least like some kind of stage production, rather than anything that would become a reality. Gorbachev, who was now probably only Gorbachev, was standing flanked on either side by a sailor. The sailors seemed to be there to support Gorbachev in case he got weak. Gorbachev was wearing some kind of wooden, cubic frame around his head. This frame was supposed to symbolize a space helmet or oxygen helmet or something.
Gorbachev was acting like he was visiting an area which had just been struck by a nuclear bomb. This area was probably supposed to be in America -- another "subtle" indication of what Russian officials were planning. But when Gorbachev took off his helmet to see what America looked like, he was stricken with sorrow. The audience could all tell that all Gorbachev could "see" was desolation.
Gorbachev, carrying out this act even further, began to cry. But now the radiation poisoning was getting to him. He was beginning to faint. The sailors on either side of Gorbachev were holding him up. Gorbachev had something like an oxygen tube, a white, plastic tube, running into his mouth. Gorbachev's eyes rolled up into the back of his head.
I took all of this to mean that Gorbachev could see that starting a nucelar war would lead to the destruction of too many lives, and that Gorbachev had decided not to start a nuclear war with the United States after all.
Dream #4
I was in the living room of "my family's house." The living room looked unfinished, like it had the shape of a living room, my great grandmother's old living room, in fact, but like there were no carpets or plaster walls. Everything seemed to be made out of a dingy, greenish stone. My mom was standing up at some counter, taking care of something. I was laying, stomach-down, on the floor. There were other people wandering about.
I was staring at a huge jar of what I called spinach. The jar was the shape of a pickle jar. But it was about 75cm tall. It was filled with water and what looked like long-stalked wildflowers. The flowers had very small, dull-colored blossoms, like the flower was fading out. But the stalks, stuck down all the way into the water, were lush, dark green, and flowing with leafs.
The water was beginning to heat up from the bottom and center of the jar. I knew this actually had something to do with the vegetation. The jar was packed full of these wildflowers. And the wildflowers acted in such a way that, when they reached a certain density and mass, they would heat up greatly. If the wildflowers were put into water, therefore, they could cause the water to boil, thus allowing the flowers to boil themselves.
I knew this "spinach" was being prepared by my mother for a meal that I was expected to partake in. But I didn't want to eat this meal. I didn't want to have to eat a meal that had been prepared in the unsanitary conditions of this house.
Dream #5
I was in some room like a living room. I may have been sitting or laying on the floor. I looked off to my right, down a hallway. I saw that the doorway to "my bedroom" was open. Someone must have found a way to get past the lock on my door and get into my room.
I was a bit panicked. I stood up and walked into the room. My room was full of all kinds of brightly colored junk. It was a complete mess. But apparently I had left it this way. I began looking around my room. I wanted to make sure nothing was missing. But in all this disorganization, I realized that something was, in fact, missing from my room. Now I knew someone had gotten into my room.
I was pretty sure that the person who'd gotten into my room was still in my room. So I hunted around in all the clutter for that person. I'd been near my bed. Now I walked to the other side of my room, to a closet that was wide open, with no doors, packed full of clutter.
Something behind me got my attention. I now saw that a little, Asian boy (?) was sitting atop a bunch of clutter, actually sitting inside a drawer that had been pulled out of a dresser and had been laying empty atop the pile of clutter.
I walked over to the little boy. All this time, I'd had a feeling that one of my younger relatives, maybe a nephew, had been the one to get into my room. Now my suspicion was confirmed (even though I didn't actually know this boy). The little boy was darling and cute, so I didn't really bother him. I treated him nicely, figuring I'd just make sure he didn't have anything of mine and then get him out of my room.
But somehow my attention got distracted by something up and off to my left. It was like DVD cases for anime shows were flashing up in that corner of my vision. I started looking at the DVD cases. There were a lot of different animes. I remembered some of them. Others were unfamiliar. Most of them looked interesting.
I may have begun talking about the various animes, as if I were talking to the little boy. But the boy was now gone. I was in the room by myself. But I was still carrying on this anime conversation, as if I were having an actual back and forth conversation with someone in my head.
The conversation actually turned to a contentious point. I can't remember what the point was. But my argument against the point was that if somebody had a wide knowledge of anime, they could name the shows they were talking about. But, I also argued, if somebody didn't have a wide knowledge of anime, they could still probably bring up certain shows as examples of something, because they'd like things enough or be familiar enough with themes that they'd know what kind of shows to look for as examples.
Monday, March 19, 2012
swinging elevator; rat bites man
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
Some anime, or else a real-life situation where two anime girls were present. Both girls wore schoolgirl outfits: purplish, pleated, very short skirts and white button-up shirts with ties. One girl was more serious than the other. This girl had long, purplish hair. The other girl had shorter, kind of curly, orange hair. Both girls were probably secretly in love with each other.
The two girls were in the lobby of a hotel. They were being seen to by a worker, who was also a young woman or a girl. This girl was very polite and had very short, blonde hair.
The blonde girl led the purple-haired girl toward the elevator bank. The orange haired girl ended up staying behind. She looked down the corridor to the elevator bank. The elevator bank had red carpet with some kinds of designs on it and mirrored walls. It was lit in a kind of dim, golden light.
I probably now saw from the orange-haired girl's point of view. I didn't know why the orange-haired girl had been so shy about following the other two girls. But now I felt like if the orange-haired girl (I?) didn't get upstairs to the purple-haired girl in time, the orange-haired girl (I) wouldn't be able to tell the purple-haired girl how much she/I loved her.
I got into the elevator. At this point I may have looked around at the elevator, noting how similar all hotel elevators are, and how they must be made that way, to promote some similar attitude that's good for business. The elevator had red carpets and either white, plastic walls or brown, wooden walls.
I knew that I had to go up to the eighth floor. But the elevator was really slow. It was just churning up fhe floors. I watched the floors click by on a small, black panel with red LED lighting.
Finally the elevator got to the eighth floor. But it didn't stop there. It went all the way up to the tenth floor. I thought this was odd. I'd definitely pressed "8," to go to the eighth floor.
Now the elevator dropped, rather sharply, to the eighth floor. But just as soon as it did, it climbed to the tenth, then to the twelfth, floor. Then it dropped sharply again.
It was obvious something in the elevator's computer was messed up. I thought evetnually, though, the elevator would open at the eighth floor. But I was worried that before then, the elevator could get so strained by jerking up and down that its cables would snap, sending me plunging to my death.
But I didn't feel any signs of the elevator straining. So I was probably okay. But now the elevator began a steady, kind of fast ascent. I watched the numbers on the black panel increase. I knew the building only had so many floors. I was hoping the elevator wasn't going to do something like smash into the roof.
But then the elevator stopped. It had come out into some open kind of space. The elevator shaft was all made of glass windows. An.d I could see this, as if the elevator itself were also made of glass. I felt a little safer, now that I could see out into the clear, blue day. But I also felt high up. And the elevator was swinging wildly on its cables, back and forth. The elevator even knocked against the walls. I was afraid the elevator would crash through the windows, and that I would plunge to my death on the street below.
But the elevator finally calmed down. It was now motionless. I was safe. But now I was stuck. I looked through another one of the walls. I saw a kind of lobby or dining area below, for one of the high-up floors of the hotel. Someone down there may have seen me. So maybe people knew I was in trouble. And maybe someone would help me.
At this point I may have started thinking about the anime show of which the two girls were a part. I may have seen a video box with cover art for the show. The art may have been pretty heavy on the lesbian aspect of the girls' relationship. I may have gotten distracted about that, wishing I'd seen more of that, and trying to remember if there were any clues that things between the two girls would actually get that heavy.
Dream #2
I was in some place like a conference room with a young man. The young man was white, very pale, and bald, with black stubble growing back onto his head. He had dark, kind of tired eyes. He was a bit taller than I, and much more muscular.
The conference room wasn't exactly empty of people. But the young man and I were wandering around it like it was. The young man was here for something like a trial. He was being accused of something he probably wasn't guilty of.
I told the young man that I felt bad for him. I wasn't sure he was going to win his case. The person presiding over the case was Mayor Meyer (???), who was apparently the mayor of New York. I made some insulting comment about the Mayor. But then I turned around and realized the Mayor was sitting in something like a juror's box against the wall. I should have known he was sitting there. Other people were there, too. Now the Mayor had heard me say bad things about him. I'd be on his bad list now.
The Mayor just grinned at me. The Mayor didn't look too different, actually, from the young man who was in trouble. He was white and bald. But he was a bit more tanned than the young man. The Mayor wasn't wearing nice clothes. He wore a pale blue-grey sweatshirt with a dark blue or black shirt underneath.
I turned away from the Mayor and said something to appease him. But I said it toward the young man, about the Mayor, as if now I were no longer aware that the Mayor was even there.
I was now outside, in some strange place in the middle of town, watching the young man cleaning out some space. The space was like a vacant lot. But it had some concrete walkways in it. It was also set down into the ground and bordered off by concrete structures that looked like highway barriers.
The place had been extremely disgusting. But the young man had cleaned it off a lot. It still looked pretty bad. But now it was clean enough so that the young man could allow water to flow through some part of it. It was like part of this place had been a stream, but that the place had been so polluted that the stream had to be shut off.
The water now began rushing through the stream. But the young man suddenly panicked. He yelled, "Stop!" He reached his left arm into the water. He pulled it out again. A big rat was on the young man's arm. The young man had seen the rat get caught up in the rush of water. He'd panicked, then reached in to save the rat.
The young man's arm was gloved with a long, thick glove, not like a work glove, but like a hawker's glove. But the rat had actually managed, in its severe panic, to bite through the man's glove. I couldn't believe this. I kept trying to convince myself it wasn't true. But the rat had bitten all the way through the man's glove and into the man's flesh. And it was still biting the man. The glove was all bloody.
The man was trying to let the rat go free. But I yelled to the man to hold onto the rat. Despite the fact that the man had saved the rat, the man would have to kill the rat. Now the rat, a wild or feral animal, had bitten the man and drawn blood, the rat would have to be killed. Its head would have to be chopped off, so the brain could be tested for rabies. If the rat had rabies, the man would have to be treated.
But the man finally got the rat off his glove. He set the rat on some little railing. The rat ran off into some shadows and garbage.
Dream #1
Some anime, or else a real-life situation where two anime girls were present. Both girls wore schoolgirl outfits: purplish, pleated, very short skirts and white button-up shirts with ties. One girl was more serious than the other. This girl had long, purplish hair. The other girl had shorter, kind of curly, orange hair. Both girls were probably secretly in love with each other.
The two girls were in the lobby of a hotel. They were being seen to by a worker, who was also a young woman or a girl. This girl was very polite and had very short, blonde hair.
The blonde girl led the purple-haired girl toward the elevator bank. The orange haired girl ended up staying behind. She looked down the corridor to the elevator bank. The elevator bank had red carpet with some kinds of designs on it and mirrored walls. It was lit in a kind of dim, golden light.
I probably now saw from the orange-haired girl's point of view. I didn't know why the orange-haired girl had been so shy about following the other two girls. But now I felt like if the orange-haired girl (I?) didn't get upstairs to the purple-haired girl in time, the orange-haired girl (I) wouldn't be able to tell the purple-haired girl how much she/I loved her.
I got into the elevator. At this point I may have looked around at the elevator, noting how similar all hotel elevators are, and how they must be made that way, to promote some similar attitude that's good for business. The elevator had red carpets and either white, plastic walls or brown, wooden walls.
I knew that I had to go up to the eighth floor. But the elevator was really slow. It was just churning up fhe floors. I watched the floors click by on a small, black panel with red LED lighting.
Finally the elevator got to the eighth floor. But it didn't stop there. It went all the way up to the tenth floor. I thought this was odd. I'd definitely pressed "8," to go to the eighth floor.
Now the elevator dropped, rather sharply, to the eighth floor. But just as soon as it did, it climbed to the tenth, then to the twelfth, floor. Then it dropped sharply again.
It was obvious something in the elevator's computer was messed up. I thought evetnually, though, the elevator would open at the eighth floor. But I was worried that before then, the elevator could get so strained by jerking up and down that its cables would snap, sending me plunging to my death.
But I didn't feel any signs of the elevator straining. So I was probably okay. But now the elevator began a steady, kind of fast ascent. I watched the numbers on the black panel increase. I knew the building only had so many floors. I was hoping the elevator wasn't going to do something like smash into the roof.
But then the elevator stopped. It had come out into some open kind of space. The elevator shaft was all made of glass windows. An.d I could see this, as if the elevator itself were also made of glass. I felt a little safer, now that I could see out into the clear, blue day. But I also felt high up. And the elevator was swinging wildly on its cables, back and forth. The elevator even knocked against the walls. I was afraid the elevator would crash through the windows, and that I would plunge to my death on the street below.
But the elevator finally calmed down. It was now motionless. I was safe. But now I was stuck. I looked through another one of the walls. I saw a kind of lobby or dining area below, for one of the high-up floors of the hotel. Someone down there may have seen me. So maybe people knew I was in trouble. And maybe someone would help me.
At this point I may have started thinking about the anime show of which the two girls were a part. I may have seen a video box with cover art for the show. The art may have been pretty heavy on the lesbian aspect of the girls' relationship. I may have gotten distracted about that, wishing I'd seen more of that, and trying to remember if there were any clues that things between the two girls would actually get that heavy.
Dream #2
I was in some place like a conference room with a young man. The young man was white, very pale, and bald, with black stubble growing back onto his head. He had dark, kind of tired eyes. He was a bit taller than I, and much more muscular.
The conference room wasn't exactly empty of people. But the young man and I were wandering around it like it was. The young man was here for something like a trial. He was being accused of something he probably wasn't guilty of.
I told the young man that I felt bad for him. I wasn't sure he was going to win his case. The person presiding over the case was Mayor Meyer (???), who was apparently the mayor of New York. I made some insulting comment about the Mayor. But then I turned around and realized the Mayor was sitting in something like a juror's box against the wall. I should have known he was sitting there. Other people were there, too. Now the Mayor had heard me say bad things about him. I'd be on his bad list now.
The Mayor just grinned at me. The Mayor didn't look too different, actually, from the young man who was in trouble. He was white and bald. But he was a bit more tanned than the young man. The Mayor wasn't wearing nice clothes. He wore a pale blue-grey sweatshirt with a dark blue or black shirt underneath.
I turned away from the Mayor and said something to appease him. But I said it toward the young man, about the Mayor, as if now I were no longer aware that the Mayor was even there.
I was now outside, in some strange place in the middle of town, watching the young man cleaning out some space. The space was like a vacant lot. But it had some concrete walkways in it. It was also set down into the ground and bordered off by concrete structures that looked like highway barriers.
The place had been extremely disgusting. But the young man had cleaned it off a lot. It still looked pretty bad. But now it was clean enough so that the young man could allow water to flow through some part of it. It was like part of this place had been a stream, but that the place had been so polluted that the stream had to be shut off.
The water now began rushing through the stream. But the young man suddenly panicked. He yelled, "Stop!" He reached his left arm into the water. He pulled it out again. A big rat was on the young man's arm. The young man had seen the rat get caught up in the rush of water. He'd panicked, then reached in to save the rat.
The young man's arm was gloved with a long, thick glove, not like a work glove, but like a hawker's glove. But the rat had actually managed, in its severe panic, to bite through the man's glove. I couldn't believe this. I kept trying to convince myself it wasn't true. But the rat had bitten all the way through the man's glove and into the man's flesh. And it was still biting the man. The glove was all bloody.
The man was trying to let the rat go free. But I yelled to the man to hold onto the rat. Despite the fact that the man had saved the rat, the man would have to kill the rat. Now the rat, a wild or feral animal, had bitten the man and drawn blood, the rat would have to be killed. Its head would have to be chopped off, so the brain could be tested for rabies. If the rat had rabies, the man would have to be treated.
But the man finally got the rat off his glove. He set the rat on some little railing. The rat ran off into some shadows and garbage.
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