rescuing the zombie girl; mclaren's a garbage car; zombie girl at women's event; zombie girl is irrelevant

For an analysis of some of the imagery in today's dreams, visit this post in my dream analysis blog preemie: my life's (a) dream.

Dream 1

A military group was driving through a sort of industrial neighborhood on the outskirts of a big desert town. There was some sort of operation to rescue either a little girl or a whole affected population from a group of zombies.

At first I may not have seen from the perspective of someone in the group. My view may have been backed away a few blocks from the action and up in the air ten or fifteen meters.

A bunch of things happened that I don't remember very well. All the action was jumbled up. The leader of the group had driven in a bunch of vehicles, maybe including some kind of tank vehicle. At this point in time I may have seen from the point of view of the action. There may have been a lot of shooting.

There may have been a point where the leader and a few other people went into a big building. This building may have looked like a sci-fi desert palace of some kind rather than an industrial building in a city. But it may also have looked like some sort of truck loading dock mixed with an official city building.

Some other things happened. All the action may have started over again. It may have been like the leader was driving all his troops right back around the blocks leading up to the big building. There may have been some argument between the leader and one of his leaders, who was speaking with him remotely. The second leader wanted the leader to leave the area. It was too dangerous. But the leader wouldn't leave until he'd rescued the population or the little girl.

At some point the little girl herself got involved in the decision making. This became a news item. A news reporter, a black woman with short hair, who may instead have been some sort of high-ranking military officer, made some kind of report about the girl.

The little girl had made some sort of decision to sacrifice herself so the other people in her population could live. But she also hadn't made this decision. She was still alive, and the leader of the soldiers was going to rescue her.

Now the little girl made a news announcement of her own. She may have looked like some kind of anime character. She announced that the military needed to leave her alone. She said she had become a zombie. She still had her intelligence. She was basically just like she had been before. But if any living human beings got near her, her zombie side would come out. She would be driven to kill them and eat their brains.

After this I may have been in some sort of swimming, half-dreaming state where I was discussing the meaning of the girl's announcement with some of my "friends," either people I knew or people in mainstream media who always appear on my Twitter stream.

I may have been trying to stand up for the girl. But I may also have been trying to organize some sort of discussion about the girl, maybe even to bring the girl to Denver. But my "friends" all said that the little girl was really irrelevant, and that they suspected I only wanted to bring her here because I was attracted to little girls and wanted to look at her.

Dream 2

I had somehow saved or helped a ten- or eleven-year-old boy. We may have been in some social situation: a crowd or a party or something. The boy started flirting with me. I got the feeling he was sexually attracted to me. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. So I took him somewhere -- possibly one of our houses, but probably not -- where we could be alone.

We were now on the top bunk of a bunk bed in a huge room. It was like the bunk bed was just in some gigantic, empty industrial space. It was dark. The only light in the building was deep, blue light from the night sky coming in through windows high up on the walls.

There was probably some man laying on the bottom bunk of the bed. I'm not sure I noticed him. He kind of creeped me out. I felt like he was essentially there to spy on me and the boy. He wasn't going to stop anything. He was just going to lay there. It may have seemed weird to me. But I also figured there was just nothing I could do about it.

The boy was laying on his back. He was wearing either just underwear or just a diaper. I may also have been wearing just underwear. I still really didn't know whether the boy wanted me to be with him. But I was aroused at this point and wanted to be with the boy.

I pushed up one of the boy's legs, which made it easier for me to push at his crotch. I rubbed up against the boy's crotch a few times. It felt good to me. I hoped it felt good to the boy. I hoped it was what the boy wanted.

But now the boy was somewhere else, maybe not even on the bed. He was talking to me about some conversation he'd had with some man who'd thought he was really cool. The man was kind of rich and very handsome. But he was really arrogant.

The boy told me how he had asked the man about his car in particular. The man had mentioned some kind of car I thought was really good -- maybe a McLaren or some other car with a name starting with an M. But, the boy told me, he'd just laughed at the man. He'd told the man that he only dated men who drive XXXXX (some type of car that probably had a few different letters and numbers in its name). The boy said, "I told the man, 'Come back when you aren't driving garbage cars anymore.'"

I was kind of shocked. I'd had no idea that the car the boy had mentioned even existed. Yet it was like common knowledge to the boy that this was what really sophisticated rich men drove. And the car I thought was so good was thought of as a garbage car by the boy. Obviously, I thought, this little boy would never be sexually attracted to me. I didn't even know what a good car really was!

I had an image in my mind of soap suds and probably hands and arms. I had a feeling I was watching the rich man clean himself, as if the boy had also told him something like he'd needed to go wash himself off because he'd been driving such a garbage car. I thought that if the rich man had needed to wash himself off, then I'd really need to wash myself off -- because I didn't know anything!

The boy was probably near me at some point now. He may have tapped me on the shoulder or patted me on the back.

The boy said, "Well, come on. Let's get going." The boy hopped down from the bunk bed and walked off toward some really nice car. I knew the boy and I had to go take care of something.

I'd still sort of wanted to stay in bed with the boy. I didn't know whether the boy had stopped our physical stuff just randomly or because he really hadn't wanted to be with me after all. If I'd misread his signals I'd feel really bad.

But I thought I couldn't have misread his signals, because he wasn't mad at me and wanted me to come along wherever he was going. But if the boy was attracted to me, then I was still aroused, and I was still hoping we could have just stayed in bed and been together.

There may have been some sort of modular-looking structure near the car, like some makeshift room with fluorescent light inside. It threw off a little light, which dimly reached the bunk bed. I climbed down from the bunk bed.

I saw the creepy guy on the bottom bunk. He was still there, just spying on everything the boy and I were doing. I may have thought that maybe it was good the boy and I hadn't done anything while we were here. Maybe once we were out of here, the creepy man would stop spying on us.

Dream 3

There was some sort of women's event. The place was packed. I'm pretty sure the little girl from my first dream had been invited to speak.

Dream 4

I had proposed to TA, a person I'd spent a lot of time with on volunteer events during the 2016 election cycle, that we bring the little girl from my first dream to speak at some event. TA just laughed at me and said, "Why would we do that? That's so irrelevant."

rude girl cut from team; young drag queen and rich little boy

Dream 1

I was in a really confused space. It may have been a big space, like the Rose Reading Room at the New York Public Library. But it may have been divided up into separate areas somehow.

I was here with some kind of group of people -- maybe a group of actors or athletes or some kind of artists. I had been assigned to choose from this group of people to assemble some kind of team.

One girl was supposed to be the star of the team. But I spoke with her. She was really kind of terrible and rude. I knew it wouldn't be worthwhile to deal with her.

I also got the feeling there was another girl in the group who was actually a much better athlete. This girl had been overshadowed by the rude girl because the rude girl was so vocal. But the rude girl actually wasn't a good athlete at all. It was just that she dazzled everybody with her personality into thinking she was good.

The girl may have been an adult at some point. But then it was like she was a kid. But then it was like she was a really little kid. She may not even have come up to my knees in height.

I went to talk with someone about my decision. I may actually have walked with the rude girl in my arms, carrying her supported by my arms so they were like a seat for her, probably while she kept shoving something in her mouth, like a ring lollipop, but maybe pale peach colored and dough-like.

We walked up a narrow, shallow ramp, to another section of this big room, where a crowd of people, possibly in their teens or early twenties, were all hanging out. The girl may have continued saying rude things to me as I carried her.

Probably at the front of this group of people was the head person for this group. The person may possibly have been a woman. I reported to the head person that I was cutting the rude girl from the team and putting the good athlete girl on the team instead. I said this was the only way we could win.

I walked away from the group of kids and back down the narrow, shallow ramp. My thoughts kind of wandered along as I walked through a section of empty bench seats made of nice, heavy, dark wood.

I looked over to my right. The team was all gathered there, complaining to the coaches about my decision to cut the rude girl and put the good athlete on the team. The team was young people, maybe in their teens or twenties, men and women. The team all stood against the front railing in front of a set of wooden bench seats. Across the aisle from them, the coaches stood backed against a tall chain-link fence.

I was sort of afraid to confront the team. But I walked over. Without really waiting for my turn to speak, I immediately went into a speech. I asked the kids if they really wanted to win the game. If they wanted to win the game, then they needed to have a player who was actually good. They could either have someone who was rude all the time and couldn't play, or they could have someone who could actually play and win them the game.

As I spoke to the kids, I may have started shrinking, so that I was eventually the size of the tiny girl I'd cut from the team. Or I may have knelt or even gotten down on my hands and knees to crawl before the kids.

Dream 2

I was in a room with a preteen drag queen, who is a friend of mine on Twitter, and probably a few other people, possibly also including the drag queen's mother. The drag queen sat in front of me on a kind of tall chair. Everybody else probably sat in random chairs or on the floor on the walls off to my side and behind me.

I stood before the drag queen with a big rectangle of cardboard wrapped in cellophane. On one side of the cardboard was a poster-sized picture of my Twitter friend.

I now flipped the board around. On the other side was a poster-sized picture of some preteen boy, kind of wealthy looking, white, with blonde hair swept back, wearing a suit jacket and nice looking shirt. The boy's signature may have run across a wide swath of the bottom of the poster.

I told my drag queen Twitter friend that I hadn't seen the wealthy boy in some time. Apparently the boy had also been a star, maybe on Twitter and elsewhere. And then he just sort of dropped off everybody's radar. But only recently he'd come back, possibly only briefly. I'd been so happy to see him again.

I also noted that I still found the young boy attractive. This was sort of to make the young drag queen less worried. I think I'd acted in such a way or said something that implied that I may have been attracted to the young drag queen. That may have made the drag queen think I was some kind of pervert. So I wanted to show that I really wasn't attracted to the drag queen, and that I was instead attracted to this young boy. That would somehow be considered by the drag queen as more normal and less perverted.