lesbian cheerleader office

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a big den or living room area with a group of co-workers. There were a lot of people in the room other than the people in my group. There were a number of couches in the room. I sat at one of four couches that were near the center of the room.

Eventually, the other people in my group began mingling with the other people in the room. One of the women, who stood with a small group of people off behind me and to my right, was talking about something like the pressures of work or school. One of the men, who sat with one or two people on a couch at the other end of the room, was talking about his personal working process and why he thought it was good.

Now a few of us stood up to head somewhere else. I'm not sure why I stood up and went. But when I met with a couple of the other people standing up to leave, they asked me, "Oh, is it time for all of us to leave already?" as if I were their leader. Now everybody in my whole group of co-workers stood up to leave.

We headed toward a stairway that went down into a basement. I felt like we were here for some kind of class. The class was probably down in the basement. We had taken a break in this upstairs room. Now we were headed back to class.

We passed a group of young, cute girls who all stood in a line performing cheerleader routines. The girls were all wearing white terry cloth hoodies and micro skirts with fluttery pleats. They may have been wearing baby blue panties, the bottoms of which may have been visible when the girls did certain moves.

Just as most of us had started walking down the stairs, one of my female co-workers ran back up the stairs. She patted one of the cheerleader girls -- a really cute one with cinnamon skin and silky, black hair -- on either the back or the bottom. My co-worker then headed down the stairs and jumped back in line with my group.

I somehow knew that my co-worker had learned that the cheerleader liked her. My co-worker wanted to let the cheerleader know as soon as possible that she liked her back. So she patted the girl's back or bottom. I thought this was pretty bold. I wished I had the boldness to do something like that.

changing a boy's diaper; garbage hill

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a living room with a good amount of other people, mostly adults. I may never actually have seen the other adults, even though I could feel that they were all around me.

The room was lit only with a bit of natural light that came from a window on the back wall. There was a couch somewhere. The carpet was thick and grey. The walls may have been thin fake wood.

A little, blonde boy asked me to change his diaper. The boy was beautiful, with bronze-tan skin, pale blue eyes, and long hair. The boy lay down to get his diaper changed. He wasn't wearing a shirt or pants.

It seemed like the boy was new to wearing a diaper. I had to tell him how to lay so that I could get the diaper onto him correctly. I also had to tell him not to worry, that he would be okay wearing a diaper. At a couple points I had to tell the boy to shift or lift his bottom so I could make the diaper fit underneath him better.

I began to realize that I was getting sexually aroused by all of this. I could somehow see that I had an erection, as if I were naked. My arousal was so intense that I didn't know if I could control myself.

I was really afraid of what all the adults around me would think of me. They were all standing around me and the boy in a circle or a dense corridor, even though I still couldn't see them.

Dream #2

I was either on a bus or on a subway train that was traveling at street level, on a street, like a bus would. I was coming to a major bus stop in a part of town near where I lived. I knew my bus stop was actually one or two stops away from this major bus stop.

But I was afraid to get off the bus at my stop. Some young man seemed to be following me on the bus. The young man was pale and thin, with short, sharp hair. He wore sharp, Oakley-style sunglasses and a pale tan windbreaker jacket. I had a feeling that the young man would get off wherever I got off.

I didn't want to get off at the correct stop and make it that much easier for the young man to follow me home. So I got off the bus/train at the main stop. I walked out into a wide, empty parking lot, at the center of which was a shelter for waiting passengers.

The shelter was full of garbage bags, like people came here to dump their garbage. A few people stood around the shelter, probably getting ready to do something with the bags.

I realized that I myself had left garbage bags here. But I'd only left them here temporarily. Now I really needed to take them away. I grabbed the garbage bags I'd left here. I turned away from the shelter to find a better place to throw the bags away.

I was now in a big city street, heading toward an alley. I thought I'd head through the alley to a very busy block that was probably very familiar to me. But the alley was blocked by a hill of garbage bags that ran all the way across the alley and was maybe four or five meters tall.

I was about to turn around and head in some other way. But I saw my co-worker HX walking up toward the hill with garbage bags. Behind HX was a man who seemed familiar to me, even though I couldn't figure out who he was. HX threw her garbage on the hill. Since she did it, I figured it was okay. I kept walking toward the garbage hill, planning to throw my garbage there, too.

prison concert; 8:45 to 8:45

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A documentary or TV show about a 1980s rock band that decided, in the tradition of Johnny Cash, to perform a concert at a prison. I thought the idea was a little silly: the rock band didn't have the hard edge that Johnny Cash had. Most of the band's songs were kind of artsy and mellow. I felt like a lot of the prisoners would probably hate the band.

There was a close up, from a low angle, on two or three band members. The band members all had mullet hairstyles and little mustaches and goatees. The backdrop of the stage was some screen with sea-green lighting. The song the band was playing actually wasn't bad. It had a good guitar riff, which I almost recognized. I imagined that people actually could dance to this music.

The view pulled back slowly to reveal the reactions of the people in the audience. I was surprised to see that a lot of the inmates (I could only see their heads at this point) were dancing around, really into the music.

The view focused on one tall, fat man with a short, square haircut, some thin sideburns leading down into a thin jawline beard. The man was dancing slowly, but really swaying and moving. The view pulled back even more, to reveal what seemed like a mostly empty high school gymnasium, at the front of which was the stage on which the band was playing.

As the view pulled back to show the man below his waist, I saw a woman kneeling down before the man. The woman was maybe in her late thirties or early forties. She was good-looking, she wore a nice, satiny dress, and her hair was arranged really well. But something about her seemed a little low class.

The woman was on her knees, "dancing" with the man, basically by rubbing her face against the man's crotch. I was a little shocked to see the woman doing this. I thought there had to be a rule against doing something like this at an event for general audiences. But once I got over the shock, it didn't seem like such a big deal.

The view now panned to the right. About thirty feet closer to the stage were two female inmates dressed in very fancy dresses, like wedding dresses. The women both looked young, maybe not even in their twenties. One of the women spun the other woman out, then spun her back in, embracing the woman.

The woman who'd been spun was exhilarated by the spinning. She relaxed in the first woman's arms and prepared for a kiss. I got the feeling that, before this, the woman who'd been spun had been reluctant to fall in love with the woman who'd spun her. But now she was willing to fall in love and be kissed.

Dream #2

I was somewhere with my new boss JE and one of my co-workers, SC. The place may have been like a bedroom. But it may also have been like a small shop, like the cluttered shops that sell all kinds of fancy Asian gifts, like scarves, wooden ornaments, incense sticks, and so forth. But a lot of the items seemed brighter, paler, and cheaper than the gifts in the Asian stores. And the place was really bright with natural light, which just glared into a place like it might glare in through a suburban teenager's bedroom.

JE was talking about how SC came into work at 8:45 AM and left at 8:45 PM. I knew I hadn't worked that many hours. I was kind of disappointed in myself for not having done so. I felt lazy.

job offer anxiety; my impaired condition; lost opportunity repeated

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a room with a number of other people. There was something like a formal presentation going on in the room. But the room wasn't very formal. Everybody was sitting all over the place, at all different angles, in all different kinds of chairs, some people even under blankets. The room was mostly dark, with some bright light shining from the back of the room and throwing a little bit of light on everything else. The presenter was a young woman who may have been something like everybody's boss.

At some point during the presentation I felt I'd heard everything I personally needed to hear. I grabbed some other guy and headed out of the room with him. We walked down a narrow, fire escape-like staircase that ran along the side wall of a lower room. The lower room had a couple windows letting in a lot of natural light. But this room was also in disarray: a computer and keyboard sat on some kind of crate, and there seemed to be blankets everywhere.

The guy and I discussed something that had to do with whatever kind of business I was trying to take care of. Once we had come to a conclusion, we decided to split up. I'm not sure where the guy went. He may have stayed in the lower room. I went back up to the upper room.

Not long after I got back to the upper room I got a call on my cell phone. I answered the phone, stood up, and walked out of the room. Now there were a lot of men, like business men in their forties and fifties, casually dressed in t-shirts, shorts, and sunglasses. They were all talking out business ideas with each other.

The call I had taken was some kind of job offer. The guys, who currently worked for the woman, just like I did, saw that I was talking over a job offer. I knew some of the guys were tempted to tell the woman what I was doing. One of the guys may not have wanted to say anything to the woman. But he did ask me why I was talking to someone about taking a job offer.

I was now walking down a few very narrow, steep steps, off of a cabin porch and down to a clearing before a calm forest. I held the phone to my ear and asked the man -- who was neither near me nor on the phone -- whether he could blame me. After all, I said, the woman hadn't given me work in more than five weeks. I needed a better guarantee of steady work than that. And the place giving me the job offer could give me steady work.

I was now walking, or taking some kind of track-bound, cart-like vehicle, down a long stairway or slope that ran underneath a huge, suspended passenger airliner. The top of the airliner, I knew, was completely sawed off. The seating area was completely visible. Both the airliner and the slope I was moving down were apparently hanging high up in the air, maybe even over the clouds.

It was now like the cart-like vehicle I was driving in was a family's vehicle, maybe even an SUV. There had been a building at the top of the slope. The building was a hospital. The family driving this family vehicle had picked up the oldest son of the family (who was, now, maybe in his late thirties or early forties) up from the hospital.

The son was practicing to be a doctor. He was Hispanic, kind of overweight, with a pudgy face and finely done, graying black hair. He wore a black button-up shirt and some nice slacks. He looked healthy, but tired and frustrated from the day. He was so tired that, even though he seemed to have some pent up aggression in him, he was carrying it around with an almost elegant sort of resignation.

The mother of the family, a very old, thin woman wearing a dress almost like a flannel nightgown, patted the man on the shoulder and told him not to worry. The mother knew things were frustrating. But they'd all turn out alright. The son had been thinking about giving everything up. The mother's speech either made the son think it would be alright, after all, to give everything up, or that it would be better to just hold on through the frustration until conditions improved.

Dream #2

I was in some place like a movie theater. The theater was gigantic and completely filled with people. But the seats were all turned, in huge, orderly blocks, at strange angles, so that only a few blocks of seats were pointed directly at the movie screen. I seemed to recognize a lot of the people in the theater. It was like this event was some event for a group of friends or professional colleagues of which I'd been a part.

Sitting just a few rows down from me and across a strangely set aisle were a few young men I'd known from a previous job. They looked very healthy, vibrant, and well-dressed. They were very beautiful. They had been kind to me in the past. But I felt like nowadays they wouldn't have the obligation to be kind to me. They might just treat me rudely, or at least without consideration. I hoped they wouldn't notice me, so I wouldn't have to start up an interaction with them which would ultimately lead to a compromise of my feelings.

But somehow I dropped my glasses and they landed all the way over at the men's feet. One of the men, who didn't look like, but reminded me of, my old co-worker CJ, picked up the glasses. He noticed that one of the arms was broken and fixed in a tacky way. I hoped he wouldn't call attention to this.

We were all now sitting at a dinner table, in a gigantic room packed full with crowded dinner tables and beautifully dressed people. Sitting just behind me at another table was an incredibly beautiful and beautifully dressed, young, blonde woman. The man holding my glasses seemed about to give the glasses back to me. I hoped he would give them back soon and not mention anything about the damaged arm in front of the beautiful woman.

But the man began gabbing away about the damaged arm and the tacky way I fixed it up. At first it seemed like he was talking about it just because he thought it was a little bit funny -- quirky, kind of like I have always been known to be. Then he thought it was interesting in a kind of involving way. Then, finally, he seemed to think it was sad, like he didn't know how I could have gotten to a point, mentally, where I thought walking around with eyeglasses like this was okay.

I didn't know how I'd gotten to this point, either. I may finally have taken the glasses back. I probably looked down at the glasses and hoped that something about my condition would at least draw the beautiful woman to me. I'd been attracted to her. Now I was sure she didn't like me. But maybe she would like me, after all, if there was something in all of my messed up character that drew sympathy out of her.

Dream #3

I was out underneath a tarp with a number of other people. I was involved in business with two older women, both of whom had something to do with the fashion industry. I had made some mistake, something having to do with losing my nerve, at some point, so that I didn't speak up about something. This basically made one of the women decide she wasn't going to do any business with me.

I knew this was bad. With the woman's business, I'd be in extremely good financial shape. Without the woman's business, I'd be nearly destitute. But I could physically feel my business opportunity with the woman snap shut, like a click at the base of my spine. I also saw the image of an object like a black, plastic makeup disc, snap shut.

There were some other people under the tarp. Most of the people were young. Maybe some of them had been rude and unkind to me, causing me to lose my nerve. I felt like I now needed to fight back against them. I probably knew it wouldn't make a difference regarding the business between me and the women. But I felt like I could at least prove that I wouldn't always lose my nerve when people were mean to me.

But I didn't really have the opportunity to fight back against the young people. Nobody was really paying attention to me anymore. Or, if they were paying attention to me, it was like people would pay attention to some dopey, harmless, but overall nice, friend of theirs.

This mood made me feel more comfortable around everybody. I had originally been standing all by myself, at the very far edge of the tarp. Now I worked my way a little bit in toward the center of the tarp. I was trying to find the older women, to see if I could patch up my relationship with them.

One of the older women was standing behind an easel that had a huge pad of presentation paper propped up  on it. I couldn't see the woman. But I knew she had been talking about some problem she was having. It was either an idea problem or a mechanical problem. But as I thought the problem over, I realized I could probably pretty easily come up with the solution.

I tried to get the woman's attention so I could tell her this. But I didn't want to step behind the easel and face her directly until I'd had the opportunity to speak with her a bit and soften the mood between us. I believe I did manage to speak a few words with her. I seemed to be getting back into the woman's good graces.

But as I was doing this, an SUV pulled up maybe about fifty or so meters from the tarp. It was my family. My mother, brother, and some other family members got out of the car. The young people under the tarp pointed out to me that my family was standing over there. They made me feel obliged to check in on my family rather than continue my conversation with the older woman.

Somehow, maybe because it had been pointed out to me by the young people, I knew that the older woman was having some kind of trouble with a tube of lip balm. I knew my brother also had some lip balm. But I was again convinced, somehow, that what I needed to do was fix my brother's lip balm, not the older woman's.

So I walked over to my family's car. My brother showed me his lip balm, which was in a black, plastic, disc-like container. His lip balm may have been fine. In fact, he may have asked me if I wanted any. I had a feeling it would be rude to refuse the offer. But I really didn't want any of his lip balm. I was hesitating, trying to decide whether to accept or refuse.

hindi golf cart; subway crash; karaoke; bottom-revealing dresses; government statistics

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.

wearing diapers at job

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was at "my office," which was dim and looked kind of cluttered. I walked into one office. My boss was sitting at the desk.

I suddenly realized I was wearing only diapers, probably Pampers Baby Dry diapers. My boss looked at me kind of weird, but he didn't say anything.

A little while later I was in a room with three other guys. They were all young and sporty business men. I wondered what they'd think of me, if they'd look down on me, once they saw I was wearing baby diapers. But they didn't say anything.

I knew I needed to change, or at least wear some clothes over my diapers. I was now standing in front of a mirror. I looked at myself in the mirror. I could see my skinny body. I thought I looked good in the diapers.

I thought that at least my diapers were clean and dry: I hadn't wet them yet. But I thought that I might actually like to wet my diapers. It would, I thought, feel good and look good. I'd feel kind of sexy like that.

radiation suits; lost and found and niece

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was out in some suburban neighborhood during the day. My view was really low, as if I were kneeling or seeing from a child's point of view. A group of men stood over me. They were all dressed in cream-white, plastic or latex outfits that went over their whole bodies, including their heads, kind of like radiation suits. The faces seemed to have green, plastic rings where the mouths would be. The rest of the headpieces kind of wrinkled around the heads. The men may all have been heading to one specific house.

Dream #2

I was probably at work, in the back area of some store. The store actually seemed to have two back areas. One was a stocking area for products that would be pulled and given directly to the customers. Then there was an area behind that. At first I was in the area behind this stocking area. I'm not sure what the area was or what I was doing there.

I may have heard an old woman, who worked as a customer clerk in the front area, speaking to a young woman about a lost item, which the older woman had in the stocking area. The older woman gave the young woman the lost item. But the young woman was still in the stocking area.

I now realized that the older woman still had two lost items. They were both with her up in the front area. I thought these items might have belonged to the young woman. So I walked into the stocking area and found the young woman.

As we stood looking at the thin, backless shelves, I told the woman, "That older woman has two more missing items up in the front area with her. They're both bags. I didn't know if you were missing two bags. But I thought I might let you know, just in case you were missing them and the old woman had let you think she'd given you everything she had."

The young woman didn't respond. I thought that maybe the bags weren't the young woman's. Now the older woman walked back into the stocking area to get some sales items. She somehow made it known to me that she knew I was telling the young woman about the other missing items. My actions obviously meant I was second-guessing the older woman's actions. This could, I knew, make the older woman angry with me. And since the older woman held a senior position to me in this company, it also meant she could fire me.

I left the store, possibly obeying some command the older woman had given me. I was now out in a huge parking lot. My family was there. Either I was or they were getting into a car to drive away. My little niece ran up to me to give me a hug goodbye. I knelt down and hugged her.

As we hugged, my niece told me something about how she was being taken away to some place that she didn't like. It seemed like members of my family were taking my niece away to this place because they didn't like her or want her to develop as a person. I wished I could stop my niece from being taken away. But I didn't know how.

screwed; hantavirus; statue of trickery

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I may have started out in an office. But eventually I was on the phone as I sat in a dim bedroom. Both in the office and on the phone, I was speaking with one of my old co-workers, KB. KB was now the head of some employment agency I was working with.

I had been out on a job. But KB now told me I couldn't go back. KB told me this was because some form I'd filled out had shown some bad information about me. I think it was possible for me to get around whatever bad information had been proven. But the management at the company wasn't around. So I'd have to wait until KB could get back in touch with the management, to talk with them about getting around the bad information.

I had a feeling this wasn't all true. I had a feeling that I'd somehow angered KB and that now she was trying to find a way to get back at me. KB was trying to keep me from this job. I thought that the management team may actually have been around, but that KB had just decided not to talk to them about me.

I got angry. I kept my emotions under control, but I did make a comment implying that I was angry and that I thought KB was giving me the runaround. As I spoke, I was driving a screw through a sheet of paper and into a brick-sized block of wood.

Dream #2

I was in a bedroom with a woman who was about my mom's age and size. The woman may have been one of my mom's old best friends. The woman half-lay on a bed. I sat down on the bed. We had been speaking about the hantavirus. For some reason, we were making jokes about how the virus had come from the "upscale" cabins at Yosemite.

Dream #3

I was either in or watching a movie. Either I or the main character was in love with a girl. But there were a number of men who were dead set against letting any woman into the character's life. These men were all from the internet, like they'd been internet figures, but they'd found their way off of the internet, through fiber optic cables, and into real life.

There were three men, I believe. One man was a definite leader. All the men were criminals. They may have been internet figures all their lives, or they may have, at some point, been relegated to the internet for their crimes. But now they had broken out of the internet and were ready to keep the main character from finding love in his life.

There were two scenes, both of which seemed to occur in adjacent rooms in some huge building, kind of like the Rose Main Reading Room of the NYPL. I can't remember the first scene very well. But I think I saw the main character very much in the third person during this scene.

In the second scene, I probably saw through the main character's eyes. I was getting in line for something. There was a long belt-rope line-maze leading to somewhere. I knew that somewhere along the line, I would meet the girl I was interested in. I was looking forward to meeting the woman and proving to the men trying to stop me that I wasn't afraid of them.

But now I got a phone call. The call was either from or on behalf of my mom. My mom was having serious health troubles. I needed to go see her right away. My mom may also have been angry with me, and that made me feel like I needed to get to her even sooner.

I turned around and headed out of the line and out of the room, probably into the room of the first scene. In that room the men who were against me stood around some sculpture that looked like a small model of the Statue of Liberty, except in a mottled fashion, kind of like a sculpture by Rodin.

The three men laughed at me. I now understood that the phone call had been a fake. My mom really wasn't in trouble. I was just being called so I'd step out of line and lose my chance at seeing the girl.

I was torn. I felt like I couldn't let myself believe the feelings I was getting from these men, that the phone call had been a fake. I still believed that my mom was in trouble. So I felt like I still needed to go see her. But I also couldn't let the men fake me into stepping out of line and seeing the woman. So I felt like I needed to get back in line. But I also felt like I'd already missed my chance at seeing the woman. Now that I'd stepped out of line, the woman would miss me and leave.

So I was frozen. I didn't know what to do or where to go. Of course, I didn't want to show this feeling to the men, either. The leader slapped two traffic-cone-orange squares onto the chest of the Rodinesque Statue of Liberty. The squares had backs that kind of looked like defibrillator pads.

***

UPDATE: Added drawing to dream #3, September 20, 2012, 8:13 AM, Mountain Standard Time.

rejecting gay proposition; naked around the house; a day off in africa

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was sitting at a cafe. The cafe was very large, with a rustic kind of feel to it. The floors were stone tile. The walls may have been yellow-painted plaster or stucco, with crevices of vanilla white exposed here and there. There were a lot of people all around.

I may have been sitting with a friend. But my friend may have gotten up to get something else from the front counter. I now noticed a man sitting at a table to my right. The man was tall, white, and muscular. He was wearing a business suit. At first I thought the man was going to take a snobby view toward me. But instead he noticed that I was reading an interesting book. He asked me what the book was about.

I started telling the man about the book when two black men walked up to the man's table. They were friends with the man. Each of them made a fist and knocked it (side to side, not front to front) against the man's fist. Both the men were tall and a bit chubby, like they had been muscular in the past, or could be muscular, but were now just losing their tone.

The man finished talking to his friends. By this time I'd kind of gone back to my own thoughts. But now the two men walked over to my table. One of the men was attracted to me. But he was shy. His friend said, "If you think he's cute, you should say something to him."

The man who liked me asked me, "What are you doing tonight?"

I wasn't interested in being with the man. So I told him, "I'm not going to do anything. I just need to go home and relax. I have a lot of stuff to do at home."

I imagined the street outside: a thin, cobblestone street with old, stucco-like buildings on either side, and patches of sunlight falling down to the street here and there. I became so focused on that view that I actually ended up out there. The two men were still behind me.

I turned to the two men and said, "Look, I'm really not interested in you. I'm sorry. I wish you'd leave me alone."

The two men turned and started walking away. I heard the man who didn't like me say something about how what I'd just said could be construed as discrimination and that now he was going to convince the man who liked me that he should sue me for harassment.

I stomped up behind the two men. But then I was staring at some old movie poster on a wooden door. I told the man (who may now have looked like Vinod Khosla?) that if he wanted to talk about discrimination, he could talk about it to my face. I was really angry. I then made some comment that implied that if the man really wanted to argue with me, I'd just kill him.

Dream #2

I was at "my family's house," a big house with a lot of rooms, though it was in terrible shape. I had been sitting in one room, having a talk with my mom and my brother. We may have been going over something like a business plan.

The conversation was now over. I may have had an uneasy feeling about the whole thing. I was probably living with my family. But now that I had this uneasy feeling, I may have been trying to figure out a way to stop living with my family.

But first I needed to take a shower. I went into the bathroom. I took off all my clothes and hung them up on a rack. But I realized I needed a towel. So I went down the hallway (naked???) to go grab one. But a few steps down the hallway, I could hear someone else hurrying into the bathroom. I turned around and hurried back to the bathroom. The person had already turned the shower on. There was a crack in the door. I couldn't see much. But I thought I saw someone getting into the shower.

I was really annoyed. I said out loud, "God! It's like you guys see me doing something, you know I need to do it, and so as soon as you get the chance, you stop me from doing it! God! I'm standing out here naked!"

My mom called from inside the bathroom, "You know, you don't have to be so rude about everything! I wasn't coming in here because I wanted to annoy you! I just thought now would be a good time to clean the bathroom!"

I said, "You knew someone was using the bathroom. How could you not see my clothes hanging up?"

My mom said, "I didn't see any clothes. All I saw were old, used towels that are just sparkling with filth!"

I was too annoyed to carry the conversation any further. I walked into another room. I was convinced I was going to leave this place for good. I was in a huge, but kind of cluttered, bedroom, standing right before a bed. I was trying really hard to come up with a plan of some other place in the world I could go to, where I could at least lead a fulfilling life.

But my thoughts were interrupted by two nurses pushing a naked, fat lady into the room. I suddenly wondered whether I was in an inappropriate room. But the nurses were simply pushing the woman through this room and into an adjacent one.

The woman had apparently suffered from some really bad stroke or something. She couldn't speak, and she could only barely comprehend the things spoken to her. She was being pushed to the room to have her lunch. This was being explained to her. But the woman didn't want her lunch to have a certain ingredient in it. The nurses were doing their best to convince the woman her lunch didn't have that ingredient. The woman wanted something else, too, maybe business papers. The nurses were also trying to explain to the woman that she would have what she wanted.

Dream #3

I was at "my office," standing just outside the square of cubicles that held my cubicle. I had taken the day off from work, but I'd had to come in to get something anyway. In the cubicle area there were two new people who'd started work just today. I knew one of them, a young man who looked like one of my old co-workers, JR. The other person was a very young and pretty woman with chestnut-brown hair and olive skin. She wore a hot pink t-shirt and black sweats.

The man and woman were both writing reports. I made a half-joking comment to the man about writing reports, maybe something to do with the web-based system for writing the reports. The man chuckled. He took the serious part of my statement and ran with it, explaining something he liked about writing reports. I agreed with him.

I saw that the man was making some kind of design on his computer screen. The design looked like a pink background with spray-paint-like squiggles all over it. This inspired me to tell the man that I really liked the artistic side of the report writing process. The man agreed with me.

The woman had gotten my attention somehow. Her desk was just outside the square of cubicles, so she was right by me. She may have had her knees against my torso, like she was sitting curled up in her chair. I was aroused by this. But I was also a little ashamed for being aroused. The girl looked extremely young now, maybe not even in her teens yet. But she was really turning me on.

The young man seemed to notice my attraction to the girl. So he wanted to compete with me for the girl's attention. The girl spoke to us about some photo project she had been involved with. Somehow the project may have involved my aunt and her youngest daughter. Somehow the pictures had improved in quality as time had gone on.

The girl opened up a book of photos. Most of them were "family photos," although they appear to me now to have been photos of young men and women at a high school or college party. There were lots of young faces, illuminated in the dark by flash bulbs.

But the photos changed to photos of people in Africa. And suddenly I was "inside" the photos, though not interacting with them at all. I was standing outside among a group of people. Some people stood. Some people sat in folding chairs. The group was loose and relaxed, sitting out on a concrete curb and even in the middle of a wide dirt road.

Everybody seemed to be dressed in Carnival clothing. The clothing was all yellow, green, and black. The women and men wore smallish, spandex or lycra, underwear-like garments. The women had skirt-like garments over the underwear. The men may have worn more cloth-like garments over their chests, something like a mix between a flag and a toga.

Suddenly there was an earthquake. The tremors were very quick. But they were strong enough to make one or two people fall over. The people who didn't fall laughed at the people who fell. The people who'd fallen stood up, shook themselves off, and laughed as well.

I got the feeling that I was watching a film. I couldn't hear anything, but I could see motion. But I could also feel the atmosphere. I didn't know how this could be. I suddenly got the idea that I was reviewing some new "photo experiment" technology that my cousin had created and tested, and that this series of "photos" had been the subject of my cousin's first test.

But then there was another tremor. Suddenly everybody became very serious. They knew the earthquake was probably mild. But they knew that they'd better get to an earthquake shelter, just to be safe. Almost all of them stood up and calmly, but quickly, walked toward an earthquake shelter.

I was left with only a couple of people, probably the older people of the town. One of them stood up to interact with me -- or, actually, with my cousin. It was like I was not only seeing through my cousin's eyes, but also speaking the words my cousin had spoken while she was down in Africa, testing out this new technology.

The man coming up to interact with the woman had a huge head. His forehead was about three times the size of the rest of his head. His eyes looked wise and gentle. But his mouth was thin and featureless, almost like a cartoon drawing of a shy child's mouth. Nevertheless, this man was considered one of the leaders of the town, and one of the toughest and most violent of the town's men.

I had a feeling he was acting kindly toward my cousin only because he eventually hoped that she would slip up and offend him in some way, so that he could kill her. This made me reflect on how brave my cousin had actually been to get this kind of footage. Not only was she braving earthquakes, she was befriending some extremely violent people.

reassuring prince

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I may have been working, standing amid aisles of shelves, like shelves in a store. There were a few other people with me. There were one wall of shelves and display racks and then a series of aisles perpendicular to the wall. I stood staring at the wall of shelves. Something like clear, plastic packets full of papers and study materials hung from the display racks on the wall.

We had to do something like sort papers or make sure that papers were in the right places. This all may have had to do with studies we were doing for reports, like dissertations, each of us was writing. But one of my co-workers thought he had put one of the papers in the wrong place. He was now completely upset and panicking.

I knew that the panicking co-worker was the pop artist Prince. I went to go talk to him, to assure him that everything was alright. I turned away from the wall and walked down one of the aisles. I then turned left and up another aisle, the shelves of which were full of salty snacks, like potato chips and onion rings. Prince was just walking down the aisle. He had long, black, disheveled hair and a thin mustache. He wore a purple bodysuit with a steep, v-necked, lapeled collar that opened all the way down to his sternum.

I knew what Prince had done. I knew he'd thought he'd organized something in an incorrect way. He probably had organized something in an unusual way. But he hadn't necessarily done it the wrong way. I called out to Prince, telling him to calm down, that everything was cool.

I held out my fist, so Prince could tap his fist's knuckles against mine, to show me he understood he was cool. I noticed that Prince had a gold ring on his middle finger. The design of the ring was a gold disc with an upward-pointing pentagram inside of it.

I was now off to the left of the aisles, past an empty gap of floor space, kneeling at the end cap of another aisle. On a low shelf was a tray of meats and cheeses. I picked up some slices of turkey. I tried to pick up slices of Swiss cheese as well. But the slices were so stuck together that I could only tear off fragments. I began laying the fragments down on the slices of turkey. I was going to roll the cheese and turkey together and eat these little turkey roll-ups.

As I did this I could hear someone like a supervisor speaking from the far end of the aisles. The supervisor (probably a woman, but maybe a man) was telling everybody that if they'd done interviews with professors from universities, they were not to treat the paperwork from those interviews the same as if the paperwork for the interviews with people in commercial fields. This had something to do with the fact that professors were, for my co-workers, more than just interview subjects. They were also potential professional contacts.

But someone was continuing to put the professor paperwork into stacks with other paperwork, even as the supervisor was talking. The supervisor kept repeating, "Keep the paperwork separate! Keep the paperwork separate!" The supervisor's voice became more and more insistent. It was like the supervisor was getting more and more urgent and annoyed, but also like the supervisor was becoming more and more convinced that the person working was really too stupid to understand the command.

I felt bad for the person getting chastised. I knew the person wasn't stupid. I even had the feeling that the person was actually doing things correctly. I thought the supervisor may have been too impatient to see that the worker was following directions, just in a different way.

reconciliation; what if?; re-programmed bombers; niece's dance; cause of death; the athlete; the replacement

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was "at my old job." I was in a break room. I had been really angry and made some kind of a scene and quit my job just a while ago. My boss walked in. He was pretty sure I hated him now. But I felt bad for having made such a scene. Even though I didn't say anything to my boss, I tried to show, by using non-violent body language, that I was sorry for what I'd done.

I was looking through a binder filled with clear plastic sleeves. The sleeves had small artworks inserted into them. The works varied in size, so that multiple works were fitted into each sleeve, each into its own pocket. The works were like prints, very blocky, almost like the fronts of old product boxes.

My boss left out a door on the wall behind me. He may have mentioned that he had to go to a meeting. I continued flipping through the pages. A while later, my boss came back. He may have been carrying a bag of fast food with him. He came up on my left side and handed me a stack of papers. There were two papers with handwritten messages on the bottom. He asked me if I could hand these papers directly to our office manager.

Just at that time, our office manager entered. She had been really upset by how I had acted. So I tried to show her how well I had patched everything up between myself and my boss by handing the papers directly to my boss that my boss had asked me to hand directly to the office manager (???).

The three of us all seemed to feel comfortable with each other again. I was sitting toward a corner on one of the long ends of the table now. I was still flipping through the binder of artworks. My boss may have been speaking with me, asking me about a specific project I'd need to take care of.

Dream #2

A view of an office. I'm not sure whether I was actually there. The view was probably of a lobby-like area, near the receptionist's desk. There were a few filing cabinets in the area as well. A tall, young man was speaking with another worker.

I started thinking about my whole choice of career paths. I thought about the very beginning of my career, when I'd been given the choice to work with a woman in one department of the company I'd been working for, or with a man in another department. I'd chosen to work with the man. But I started to wonder what would have happened had I worked with the woman, in the other department.

There was now a view of a backyard of a big house. It seemed to be autumn. Two girls were swinging on an improbably high swing. My view was floating up and down with the swaying of the swings. A man, whose voice I recognized as that of JM, one of my old co-workers, was either on the phone or had just gotten off the phone with one of his neighbors. JM then told his wife E that the neighbors would like the family to come over, so JM's daughters could play with the neighbors' daughters.

Dream #3

I was at some big place, probably something like a fair that was composed of indoor attractions and outdoor attractions. I had been inside one of the indoor attractions, a futuristic-looking, white tent at the end of a long plaza. But I had gone out to take care of something for one of my friends. I had probably left the tent and gone and taken care of everything by flying.

I was now flying back to the tent. I may not have been sure my friend was still there. I may actually have been worried that my friend was lost and that I'd need to go find him. I may have tried to continued to fly, but I may have gotten "gravitated" toward a different group of people.

I was -- somehow -- all tangled up with a member of this group: a kind of fat, pale man with long, frizzy hair and a goatee. He wore a t-shirt and shorts. I don't know what the heck kind of body I had, but the man had to untangle me from himself, like he would have had to untangle a purse from off his shoulders.

But the man did this naturally as he spoke with his friends. He was with three or four other people, a mix of men and women. The whole group of people seemed cool. But they were talking about some conspiracy theory having to do with the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki (although -- I'm not sure that Hiroshima was actually called "Hiroshima" in the dream).

The idea was that there was one person in each instance who was ultimately responsible for the dropping of the bombs. It was like these two people were the ones most affected by the feeling of moral responsibility. But the argument was that these two people had been silenced by the government because of their feelings of moral responsbility.

As the people discussed this, we all (I as some kind of flying entity that was still floating but was slowly descending toward the ground) turned up the walkway toward the futuristic tent. I eventually -- I think -- landed in a stroller. I was either an adult, sitting in a stroller like I was a baby; or else I had actually become a small child or baby sitting in the stroller.

The discussion of the conspiracy continued. But it didn't seem to me like there was much government involvement in this conspiracy. One of the guys, maybe the guy who'd dropped the bomb on Nagasaki, had simply committed suicide. But the other guy's story was a little weird. I listened to it as I descended (awkwardly, as I remember it) into the stroller, and as we passed a concrete structure that looked like an entrance to a subway station.

The man with the frizzy hair and goatee said, "The man asked the government to re-program him. If you were experiencing too much feeling of moral responsibility for what you'd done, the government could re-program you. They did it to some people involuntarily. But you could also request to be re-programmed. And this guy requested it, otherwise he was going to commit suicide.

"But just before he got re-programmed, he was arrested on some drug-related charge. Man... I can't imagine. I don't ever want to be in trouble because of any of that substance-related crap."

Dream #4

I was sitting at a dining table in some kind of communal area, like a really big version of a house's dining room. The atmosphere was really relaxed, even though there were quite a few people scattered among the various dining tables. People may have been watching a television that was somewhere.

My little niece walked up to me. She was wearing a little, white dress with baby blue fringes and probably a belt-like, baby blue ribbon at the waist. She also wore white spandex leggings and white tennis shoes.

She asked if she could sit on my lap. I said sure. She hopped up rather quickly and easily. I commented that she must have grown, because before it would have taken her some effort to get up onto my lap.

My niece sat with her legs straight out. She began squirming around a bit, humming a little tune, I guess like she thought she was dancing while she was sitting. So I grabbed her legs, probably at her shins or ankles. I began humming a classical music tune while moving her legs to the melody. It was a little difficult. I don't think my niece quite knew what I was doing or how to cooperate with the movements of my arms.

My niece asked what I was doing. I said, "It's a way to tell if your feet are awake. It's like saying, 'Hey, feet! Wake up!' And your feet will tell you if you're awake."

I suddenly had a view, either directly or in my mind's eye, of one of my feet. I said, "You can ask your foot, 'Are you awake?' And if your foot's awake, he'll move up and down, like this." I moved my foot laterally. "And if your foot's not awake, he'll move side to side, like this." I twisted my foot from side to side.

Dream #5

I was laying on the floor in the lobby of a doctor's office. Some people were with me, behind me, sitting on chairs. The doctor had just entered the room and was standing just inside the doorway, in front of me, but at a distance of maybe three meters. He was a white man with a slightly balding head of grey hair. He wore squarish eyeglasses and he had blue eyes. He wore something like a cardigan sweater, a button-up shirt, and slacks.

The doctor began explaining something about either his diagnostic techniques or medicine that he prescribed for people. He may have been talking about both things. He explained that his techniques were used to cure people of one of the most frequent causes of death in the United States. The doctor said, "The second most frequent cause of death in the United States, excepting suicide..." and he looked at me significantly.

I looked away from the doctor. He made me feel really uncomfortable. The doctor then went on to talk about the second most frequent cause of death. I don't think he ever mentioned the most frequent cause of death. But I think he did mention that in the United States, suicides were becoming so frequent that they were almost the third leading cause of death (???).

Dream #6

I was watching a young man perform some kind of athletic process. It was for some competition that he'd later be a part of. The young man was a clean-cut kid, like a stereotypical Olympic gymnast. He may have been white, but he may also have been Hispanic.

There was basically an orange wall. The left side of the wall had a yellow bar attached to it. To the right of the bar, at the same height as the bar, was a hoop, like a basketball hoop. Then to the right of that was a cube that jutted out from the wall, like it was a part of the wall. The top of the cube was the same height at the bar and the hoop. There were also a red light and a blue light, right next to each other, somewhere -- either over the bar or between the bar and the hoop.

The young man would descend through the bar, between the bar and the wall, then bounce right back upward through the bar. He would then descend through the hoop. At this point, during his practices, he would do some weird kind of move, where he'd bounce really high. (I'm not really sure how -- or where -- any of these "bounces" actually took place.) The young man would then have to aim himself really carefully so that he could latch onto the hoop. But he'd often miss the hoop altogether. If he caught onto the hoop, I think he'd swing himself onto the top of the cube platform.

The man may have practiced this a few times. I watched him. I provided encouragement. I may also have given a few small pieces of advice. The man, I think, ended the practice session with a better idea of what he wanted to do.

It was now the actual competition. All the time I was watching, I heard an announcer's voice. But I can't remember much of what he said.

The young man descended through the bar, then bounced up through the bar. He descended through the hoop. But this time, instead of bouncing way high into the air, he just bounced up to the level of the hoop. He latched directly onto the hoop.

This was a huge surprise for the announcer, who shouted out, "He's finally got it! What a move!" I could probably also hear a crowd cheering for the young man.

The man began swinging back and forth. I think he had to wait until the lights flashed either red or blue. Then he could swing himself off the hoop and onto the cube platform. The announcer cried, "If he can swing up onto the platform in time, he'll break the world record!"

The light finally flashed the correct color. The young man swung himself off the hoop. I wasn't sure he'd make it. But he flipped up and landed on the platform. The announcer cried, "One minute and three seconds! A new world record!"

I may have seen the time somewhere, maybe at the corner of my vision, as if I were looking at a TV screen, as 1:03.04. I also noticed how the wall on the other side of the cube was a window wall, showing, in the deep blue light of evening, a street scene, like Rockefeller Center, as if this place were part of the NBC studios.

I stood up and ran to the young man. The young man was now a copper skinned man, kind of skinny and scraggly looking, with long, shaggy hair that curled down over his forehead and eyes. He wore an orange tank top and shorts. And his eyes looked a little crazy.

The young man was really grateful to me because I'd supported him so much through his training. He hugged me passionately. I think he was sexually attracted to me, and that he was trying to break me out of my shell and make me sexually attracted to him, too.

The man crossed over some rope that separated the competition from the spectators. We stood by some big, comfortable chair. The man hugged me again, very passionately. I dropped something I'd been holding in my left hand, maybe a water bottle, into the chair.

I suddenly realized that I was sexually attracted to the young man as well. I really wanted to be somewhere alone with him as soon as possible. But I think at this point the young man walked away to go take care of some other stuff.


Dream #7


I was in an office, or actually a place more like a bank. The place looked very nice, with wood walls and wood desks. The desks were all spaced well apart, just like in the customer service area of a bank. Two people sat down before a desk. A woman sat down behind the desk. I either floated above this scene or stood behind the couple (although if I was standing, I must have been kind of tall).


The couple seemed to be kind of surprised to see the woman behind the desk. They were used to dealing with somebody else. But the woman behind the desk, a kind of young looking, Asian woman with a cute, round face and wearing a very prim black-grey skirt-suit and white button-up shirt, told the couple that the woman who usually helped them would not be able to help them today.


The way the woman said this implied that the original woman would never be able to help them again, like she'd either quit or been fired from the position. The couple was surprised. I think they wanted to know why they hadn't been informed of this. But they were too shy to ask the question right out. So they asked how long it had been since the woman had been unable to help her customers.


The new woman replied something like, "Well, she just started getting her stuff ready a few moments ago." This meant, I thought, that the woman had probably quit the job. She'd probably announced that she was quitting only fifteen minutes or so ago. And now the woman was packing up and leaving. The new woman was taking over the original woman's responsibilities immediately. But she wasn't upset by this. She even seemed to be gloating over the fact that the woman had left.

cleaning for mom; ornate room; program access; phone memory; politeness doesn't pay

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was at my family's house. I had just finished taking care of some task, possibly with my brother-in-law. Now we were heading back into the living room. It may have been night. The living room was cluttered. The only light in the room was an incandescent light bulb somewhere, maybe on a shadeless lamp on a table.


My mom and possibly a couple other family members all sat in a cirlce amid the piles and piles of clutter. My brother-in-law and I sat down with everybody. I think my mom was having us get ready to move a couple of heavy objects for her. We were ready to do this.


But now my mom said, "I'm glad you guys are here. Because we have a lot of stuff to go through and clean out. In fact, we could be here for days and days, cleaning out the stuff I have."


I got angry. I stood up and said, "Well, it's fine that you want us to help you clean stuff and move stuff. But I can't devote all my time to cleaning your stuff. I didn't just come here to do that. I came here to study, too."


I stood up to move something that needed to be moved. I felt bad after having been so angry with my mom. I had actually come back to my hometown because I was out of money. My mom had helped me get back home. Now I was telling her I couldn't help her with things?


As I walked over to the object I was supposed to move, an air hockey table, my mom told me, "We used to live on an Air Force base. When we lived out on the base, everything was a lot easier, and you had a lot better outlook on life. Do you remember that?"


I lifted up the air hockey table and shifted it either to the left or the right, about the length of the table. As soon as I shifted it, daylight flooded into the living room. The living room looked a lot bigger, almost as if it were a workshop or a warehouse. I turned around and walked through the living room. I probably walked past my mom, even though I was still probably talking to her and probably helping her out with things.


Dream #2


An ornate room, like a room in a palace. Every surface of the room had a blue marble kind of texture, like either a cream color or a light blue color veined with a darker blue. Everything was also edged or lined with gold in ornate designs. But some of the furniture seemed to be attached to the walls and the ceiling, so that I could see the tops of stools or dressers facing me from the wall before me and the ceiling.


Dream #3


I was in some big room like a big garage. But the walls seemed to be covered in a billowing, white fabric, like something out of a photographer's studio, and the light was a very suffused, gentle incandescent. There were rows of tall metal tables, like tables in a workshop. There were probably three or four rows, divided into two aisles. Each table had two computers on it. These computers were workstations for specific people.


I went to my workstation. But my computer wasn't working. A tall, pale, skinny, white man walked up to my workstation. The man told me that it was bad news that my computer wasn't working. I was doing something of some importance to the government. Somebody knew what kind of work I was doing. So if my computer wasn't working, it was likely that the people trying to stop my work hacked into my system and shut the system down. But I needed to keep doing the work. It couldn't stop now.


The man got onto my workstation. He may have told  me that the problem was with an energy level in my workstation. Because something was weird with the energy level, I was no longer being given access to my workstation.


But the man had managed to set me up on some kind of a backdoor system. The regular system, I believe, required me to have a certain amount of energy so I could run all the programs on my workstation. This system, on the other hand, allowed me to log in to single programs. The system was just a list of the programs I would usually run. I would click on the program name. A drop down menu would appear. I would go from there to run my program.


Something didn't seem entirely good about this. I felt like I needed to have the regular system back up and running as soon as possible. I felt like if I continued using the setup I was currently using, whatever network my workstation was linked into would identify my activity in a strange way, destroying my regular system as I knew it, or else that I would eventually be denied access to this backdoor system as well.


Dream #4

My cell phone told me that I could no longer put any additional items onto the memory. The memory was so close to full that the phone could no longer even run the functions of programs that would store things in its memory. I really couldn't do anything on my phone. The phone didn't have enough memory to run any processes.

Dream #5

I was possibly in a bowling alley. I was with a large group of people, mostly kids. It may have been like we had taken these kids on a field trip. But now we were getting ready to leave.

As people were milling around, maybe doing stuff like putting on their jackets (it must have been winter), my sister stood before me. Behind her was a little partition, like she was standing before some segment of wall cornering off from a hallway. We stood in a greenish grey fluorescent light. Behind my sister, I could see the bowling alleys and all the kids.

My sister said, "I have a feeling you're having trouble with money. And I want to let you know that if you need help with money, all you have to do is ask. We're willing to help you."

I had a feeling I was in trouble with money, too. But I didn't want to bother my sister with the details. So I just told my sister thanks, and that I was alright.

We were all now walking down a hallway kind of like an office hallway, except that it was really dim. The only light was natural light coming from a front window wall in the far distance. We stopped so a group of people could do something, I'm not sure what, possibly use the restroom.

I stood in the hallway with a twelve-year-old girl. The girl had golden tan skin, blue eyes, and shoulder-length, brown-blonde hair. She only came up to the middle of my chest. She wore a big, puffy black jacket that made her look overweight. On the wall behind the girl was some framed photo, probably an Impressionist-style painting, in heavy browns, blacks, and greens, of a figure who looked kind of like Emile Zola.

The girl was kind of flirting with me. I liked it. I was flattered. The girl flirtatiously asked me something about what our relationship might be like in five years, when she was seventeen. In one sense, she may just have been implying that she was hoping she'd be able to take care of my by that time. In another sense, she was just wondering whether I would let her get romantic with me.

I tried to steer her off from worrying about that argument. I flattened my hand on the crown of her head, then lifted the flattened hand up in the air until it went about two or three inches above the crown of my head. This was supposed to illustrate to the girl how, in five years, she would be taller than I. She might still like me, but she wouldn't think I was attractive. So she shouldn't worry right now about whether she thought I was attractive.

We all started walking again. We headed toward the exit of this building, which was now definitely like an office building. In fact, we had all come here for some reason almost totally related to me. It was like I had come here to interview for a job or to find assistance regarding a job that I had or was looking for. Others in the group may have been doing the same thing here. Everything had been taken care of. So we were leaving.

But as almost everybody else had gone out the front door -- a big, heavy, wooden door, kind of like for a Mexican restaurant with a mission-like decor -- a woman came into the foyer and stopped me. She was a bit taller than I, olive skinned, with frizzy, black hair and brown eyes with a lot of mascara.

The woman told me, "I'm friends with SG, someone you used to work for. I called him up to tell him you were here. I was really excited you were here. But SG told me that you need to tell both me and him everything that made you leave your last job. We want to know what made the situation so bad that you couldn't stay there anymore. You're too valuable to us, SG said, and we can't afford to lose you."

The woman also said that SG had told her that I have a bad habit of not speaking up when things are going bad at the workplace. He'd said that I needed to talk to him whenever something bad started happening, so he could figure out how to take care of things for me.

My view faded out of the building, as if I had looked out the door -- not walked out of it -- and into a blinding white light. The view now changed into a yellow slip with computer-printed writing on it, almost like the copy portion of a bill or a deposit slip. But it was a letter, or, actually, something more like an email (in telegram form?) from SG.

SG's message said something like, "There is a point when you can have too much politeness. Sometimes it doesn't pay to be polite." This was in reference to my bad habit of always acting like things were going well when they really weren't. SG was telling me that I needed to tell him about the bad things, as soon as they happened, from now on.

shifting conference rooms; car misses bus; living funeral plans

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was "at work." The office space was huge and bright. The section I was mostly in was all just one big open space, divided into two levels. The back level was about 150cm higher than the front level. Most of the space was filled with desks.

There was a conference room along the left wall. My boss had almost the entire management team of one of our clients in the conference room. I was in there, too. But I got pulled out of the room by our office manager. She took me up to her desk at the back area. She told me some other people wanted to use the conference room. She asked me if the meeting we were doing in the conference room was so important.


I got really annoyed. I told the office manager, "Yes! It is important! We basically have the entire company in that room!" But the office manager was still giving me the idea that I needed to move everybody out of the conference room we were in. So I figured I'd take the request to my boss and see what he wanted to do about it.


But when I got back to the front of the area, everybody was gathered at an auditorium-like area that had been set up. A lot of rows of chairs had been set up facing the front wall. There were a stage and a screen along the front wall.


Someone was obviously going to give a presentation to the company. We were all just waiting for the presentation to start. All the management from the company had acknowledged me. It seemed that they liked having me around. I was happy with that.


But I got called away again, probably by the office manager. I had to have another discussion. When the discussion was finished, the presentation either had already started or was so close to starting that I didn't want to make any noise or distraction. There was a person sitting at the end of the row I had been sitting in. I didn't want to ask him to stand up so I could get back to my seat. So I just went a few rows back.

A woman from my work was sitting in a chair outside the rows of chairs, but near the row I was going to sit in. As I sat into the rows I said something to the woman like, "You'll see now what a good note-taker I am. I'm going to take really good notes on this presentation. Then I'll give them to the client. They'll be impressed."

But when I sat in the rows of chairs I realized that the backs of the chairs in front of me were huge. They were yellow plastic and they had grating designs on their backs, like school chairs. But they were probably as tall as a standing person. There also seemed to be a roof-like structure connecting the seat backs in front of me with the seat backs of my row of chairs. Because of all this, my view of the presentation was completely blocked.

I thought to myself, Well, I don't need to see to take notes. I can just listen. But I knew it wasn't good enough. If I didn't see the PowerPoint presentation, I'd miss a lot of stuff that I'd want to take notes on. I'd have to do my best. But it was a pretty bad situation.

Dream #2

I was in a car, but it was also like I had just walked out of some building. It was like I was standing right outside the doors of a building, but also like I was in a car. The building was a city official building. It was big, kind of modern looking. The daylight and coolness of the atmosphere felt like morning time on a nice, clear summer day. The shadow of the building was deep and cool.

I "walked out" of the building (in the car) with my brother and a bunch of other guys. I was in the driver's seat. My brother was in the front passenger seat. The other guys were all crowded tight together in the back seat. The guys all seemed to be tough, maybe a little impatient, but good natured overall.

There was a bus across the parking lot from us. At this point in the parking lot, the lot was just a small strip of asphalt with a special area for buses built right into it. I knew this was the bus I needed to catch. But it looked like the bus was leaving soon.

For some reason it was really hard for me to move away from the building. I think it may have had to do with the guys in the back. The bus pulled away. I knew I missed the bus. I'd have to wait a long time to catch the next bus.

I was annoyed at the guys. They'd made me miss my bus. But I knew I couldn't show my frustration with them. If they felt offended at all, they'd turn violent. So I just acted like nothing was wrong. I just focused on getting across to the bus stop and saying all the time that the bus must be coming soon.

But as I moved across the parking lot, I looked up to my left. Another bus, just like the one that had just left, was now approaching the bus stop. I was pretty sure I could still get where I needed to go by getting onto this bus.

I got up to the bus stop. I was standing out at the bus stop now -- not driving a car or in a car, like I'd been before. The bus arrived. The doors opened. Before getting on, I asked the bus driver if this bus could take me where I needed to go.

Dream #3

I was a little kid, probably a little boy, but maybe a little girl. My view was all in black and white, as if, even though I was seeing through "my own eyes," I was also watching a movie. I was siblings with one of the other children. I'm not sure about the rest. My sibling was probably the opposite gender of whatever I was.

My sibling and I had a grandparent who was dying. The grandparent, probably our grandfather, was in the hospital. He was still conscious. But it was obvious he was going to die very soon. My sibling and I wanted to have a funeral for him before he died. That way he could be a part of it and see how much he meant to everybody around him.

But our parents, and possibly even our older siblings, didn't take any of our efforts seriously. So we had to enlist the help of our friends. I remember some views of me and my sibling at a computer screen. I also remember a view, through a hospital room doorway, of our grandfather in bed.

Eventually what me and my sibling were doing seemed like it could be practical. It was starting to take shape. It was probably going to work. At this point, our older siblings, and maybe even our parents, joined in. But when they joined in they basically took over everything about the project. They gave me and my sibling some little job to do, something that was useless, as if it was the only thing we could handle, even though we'd previously been in charge of everything.

corgan killed; orange; gosling bites; cafe bar show

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I may have been reading the news on the internet when I saw that Smashing Pumpkins lead singer Billy Corgan had been murdered. Some sort of "news flash" with the same news may have been announced over the internet -- like the internet was a radio or a television set. I may even have seen a male news anchor (with a bowl-like haircut from the 1970s) announcing the news.

The person who had killed Corgan had been stalking him for a long time. Apparently the person had some strong opinions against Corgan. It was like he thought Corgan was a sell-out, so that he had to kill him.

I remembered that in some internet forum I'd made a joke about how Elena Anaya looks like Billy Corgan on the poster for La Piel Que Habito. I thought that, at the very least, my joke would now look disrespectful and distasteful. But I worried that the joke could also get me pinned as having had some connection to Corgan's killer. I may even have wondered something like whether the killer, having seen my joke, would try to take refuge with me as a sympathetic character.

Dream #2

It was a winter day. I was inside an office building, but I could sense (maybe after having seen through some big windows?) that there was a lot of snow outside and that the sky was grey. The light inside and outside was blue-white.

My old friend ES had sat my mom and I down in the lobby of the office building, then went off to get somebody. Apparently I was here for a job interview. The person ES was getting would interview me.

The lobby of the office building looked more like a living room in a really nice house. The place felt very spacious, but sparsely furnished. The floors were made out of some black-brownish, thickly polished flagstone with blackish material in between the stones. The walls were white. The floors kind of jutted upwards in places to create "platforms" that ended up being convenient as seating places. There may have been a fireplace somewhere.

I sat against one wall. The platform I was on went from the wall out to the middle of the room. The big front window was off to my right. My mom sat on a platform or chair that backed against the opposite wall. Off to my mom's right, running along that wall, was some small, dim area that looked like a really nice kitchen.

My eyes felt really fuzzy. It was hard to keep them open. I kept almost falling asleep. But then I heard something, like it was coming from some speaker in the ceiling. At first I thought it was background music, like waiting room music.

But when I listened closer, I got excited. I could discern Orson Welles' voice. Orson Welles was narrating some sort of story. Welles would give a bit of story. Then a little boy would speak for a while, as if he were living out the story. I think I sat forward excitedly and told my mom, "It's Orson Welles on the speakers!" I then tried to listen closer, so I could discern what story I was listening to. I had no idea so far.

But then ES brought in her friend. ES then went to sit, I believe, by my mom.

The woman brought a black-framed, orange-vinyl-padded chair to the far end of my platform. She sat down in it. The woman looked to be maybe in her early thirties. She was tall and skinny, with crimpy-curly, pale-blonde hair and glowingly tanned skin. She wore a pale-blue sweater of soft fabric and a pink shirt of the same kind of fabric under that. She had a bunch of canvas bags all around her chair. The bags may have been full of children's books.

I went to the end of the platform to meet the woman. Somehow I knew that this woman was interviewing me for a position in a company called Orange. This place was the office building for Orange, even though nobody was here except for ES and the woman.

Orange was some sort of investment or research firm. ES had become a Senior Analyst here, covering an industry and providing investment advice for people. The woman was also a Senior Analyst, covering a different industry, possibly something consumer-related. ES and the woman were going to share me as an Associate.

I shook hands with the woman as I sat down. We shook hands really awkwardly, even as we were exchanging pleasantries in almost a surprised kind of way. I found it easy to be really positive and outgoing with the woman. And the woman was just as positive and outgoing to me. But we shook hands fully almost once. Then I fumbled so that I was doing a guy's-style "bounce-back" handshake. Then I went in for another one or two handshakes and, each time, only grabbed two or three of the woman's fingers.

I prepared myself for some kind of interview. But the woman barely seemed engaged in the interview. She smiled, said it was nice to meet me, and basically gave me the indication that everything she needed to know about me she already knew.

I was a little shocked by the brevity of the meeting. I looked over to ES for support. But ES herself looked a bit shocked. For some reason, ES, wearing khaki slacks, had her feet up on the seat, with her knees drawn up a bit. I could see ES' crotch pretty well outlined by the slacks. I was really turned on.

The woman stood up. I followed. The woman said something to imply that I already had the job. But then she said, "Well, all I have to do now is go through the final two or three candidates, to make sure none of them have anything I want more. But I will say, you have more experience than any of them. It's nice to have someone to work for you who was around when people were using selling tactics based on growing in a growing market, not predatory selling tactics."

It seemed to me like the woman was already trying to come up with reasons why she wouldn't hire me. I think that ES was starting to worry about the same thing. The woman had spoken about my experience like it was something ES had mentioned to her. But it seemed obvious the woman was already trying to excuse herself for wanting a more conventional person to work for her. But I tried to keep positive, thinking that the woman's comment about my experience had been a compliment.

The dream may have ended here. But it seemed to go on. Time slipped a bit. My mom was no longer in the lobby.

The woman, ES, and I all stood in the kitchen, closer to the refrigerator. The refrigerator had, I think, been white before. But now it was brushed steel or stainless steel. I stood on the right (my right) side of the fridge. ES stood on the left side. The woman stood right in front of the fridge.

The woman was explaining to both ES and I that I would probably be taken on with Orange, and that at first, I would probably be working for both ES and the woman. But the woman felt like, for her industry, I was probably not the ideal Associate. She wanted to keep interviewing people. She was sure she could get somebody better.

I had backed so far along my side of the fridge that I could no longer see ES. The woman explained that once she found a new Associate, I'd probably be shifted over to working only with ES. I was kind of happy about this, since I liked ES a lot. But ES only gave a dull grunt -- and it sounded like her mouth was full of food. It sounded like ES was both surprised and disappointed by what the woman had said.

I began to suspect that ES had assumed that eventually the woman would take me completely, instead of ES having to take me completely. I realized that ES really didn't want to have me completely on her team, because (this is very far from the reality of waking life!!!) I was so good at what I did that I'd outperform her. I knew that ES wanted to help me. She wanted me to have a job. But she really didn't want me working with her personally.

I began to feel stressed out by the whole situation. I was thinking that I'd come into this situation and eventually have an industry of my own to cover. But it was looking like that might not turn out. I had a friend who didn't want me to outperform her. And I had a woman who was only taking me on reluctantly -- based on the suggestion of my friend.

I also started wondering about all the people in the office. I'd worked in small offices before. And if one person had snobby ideas about you, eventually everybody would. I hoped it wouldn't be the same thing her. But I was starting to have doubts.

But I wanted to put on the best face I could. So I stared at the side of the fridge while I told the woman, "I really like this place. The building seems really nice. The atmosphere seems really nice. I'm really thankful that you're giving me the chance to work here like this. I'm a really hard worker. So I'm going to do my best. And I hope that I won't disappoint you."

When I looked over at the woman, she was just scowling at me bitterly. But she wasn't the same woman -- if  she was a woman at all. She was blonde and tan, but she had a square jaw now. Her hair was done in a short, boyish style, with the top swept up in a dramatic, mohawk-like wave of brown and black hair. She wore a greenish-tan, button up shirt, kind of loose, like a man's style, with black stripes.

ES was now gone. I could tell the man/woman didn't want me around at this job. And I suspected ES didn't want me around at the job, either. But I began to get the idea that ES did want me around in her life, and that she did want me in this town (whatever town Orange was in).

I told the woman (who may now have looked like she'd looked at first), "Can't you tell ES something, maybe? Like you and I had a conversation, and that I told you that I'd be happy just being around ES here, even if that meant that I was in some job where I wasn't getting paid very much money at all? I could work at a Starbucks nearby, if all ES wanted was for me to live near her."

I started picturing the life with fondness: me, working at a warm, cozy Starbucks just down the street from Orange. I would live with ES. And at the end of the day I would come home to ES and live as her boy, or even, possibly, as her adult baby.

Dream #3

It was a sunny summer day. I was out in some backyard, possibly like my family's backyard. There was a trampoline to my right. I was looking down at the ground. I was planning to go inside.

But then I suddenly noticed that there were "geese" in the yard. But they didn't look like geese. They were about the size of hens. But they were covered in shaggy black stuff halfway between fur and feathers. Some of the "geese" had black heads. Others had red heads, like heads made entirely out of the crests (or waddles?) of roosters. For a moment I told myself that perhaps these animals weren't geese, that perhaps they were vultures.

But whatever they were, it was a bad sign that they were here. They could spread disease or become violent and hurt you. I hoped they would go away soon. I couldn't walk out of the yard, because that would make them violent and make them come at me. So to get away from them, I got up on the trampoline.

Two geese flew up onto the trampoline with me. Now they really were like geese. But they were like young geese, like goslings. There was one gosling on my right side and one on my left. The gosling on my right side had all black feathers, and he looked as sleek as a cormorant. The gosling on my left had feathers patterned more like those of an adult goose.

The gosling on my right began talking with me in a nice, little boy's voice. While he spoke with me, he bit down softly on my right index finger. The gosling's voice wasn't impeded by this. It was like the gosling's speech was a completed thing coming through the gosling's throat, not something that depended on his bill to form the words. I can't remember what the gosling was talking about, but I think it may have had to do with getting confirmation from me that he was "such a good boy."

The gosling on my left now bit down on my left index finger. I think he may have begun speaking, too, but not as much as the gosling on my right.

Now my whole family was coming outside. There were a whole bunch of geese, too. The yard seemed really crowded with people and geese. My mom may have said something like it was time for lunch. This meant that all the geese had to go away. But a head goose may have also said something about it being time for lunch for the goslings, too.

The goslings had to let go of my hands. But the gosling on the left clamped down on me extra hard for a moment, asking, "See how much I hold onto you? Doesn't that make me a good boy?"

I could see the gosling's drool (???) all over my finger. And when the gosling had finally let go of my finger I could see that he had clamped down so hard on it in the last few seconds that the middle knuckle on my finger was bleeding a tiny bit. I thought about goose crap, and about how maybe geese eat their own crap. I didn't want goose crap and goose saliva in my blood. So I decided I better go wash my hands.

I was now in my family's kitchen. It was kind of small and dim, with yellowy summer light coming in through a couple of beige-curtained windows. The walls were yellowy, and the floors had some kind of red tile on them.

There were two big, metallic double-sinks, like restaurant-sized sinks, in the kitchen, along the back wall, separated from each other by about a meter or so. I was about to go to the sink on the right to wash my hands. But I could see now that it was all the way filled up with water, kind of a mucky, greyish water. Not only that, but the water was still rising in the sink -- even though the water wasn't on and there was a whirlpool in the sink that would indicate water was going down the drain!

The water started flowing over onto the floor, seeming to go down the circular metal grating of a drain in the floor. But, again, the water may really have just been accumulating on the floor.

I figured I'd go tell my mom that all this was going on. But first, I thought, it would be best to wash my hands after the goose had drawn blood on my finger. So I'd use the left sink, which seemed to be working.

But now I looked over to see that the left sink was also not working! It was full of water, too. This water may have been dirtier than the water from the right sink. It may have been full of pinkish and tannish material, like old, soggy cereal had been vomited back up into the sink from the garbage disposal.

Dream #4

I walked into a cafe with my ex-girlfriend H. The cafe was split into two sections. H went over to the left section. I went off to the right. The cafe was warm and full of people. The section on the left was set a step or two lower than the section on the right. It had couches and stuff, where people seemed to be relaxing and talking and having a good time.

I sat into a table by the window. I seemed pretty stuffed into the chair I sat in, like I was wearing a huge thick jacket and had a bunch of stuff with me. I may have been huddled in pretty close to some book that I must have been into. I think I felt pretty warm, if not hot.

At some point I stood up, either to grab a drink or to go look for H. I turned around to see two girls at the table behind me kissing each other. Both girls looked kind of cute, but also a little boyish.

One of the girls, a blonde girl, saw me looking at the girls kissing. She asked me, "What? Does it offend you to see two girls kissing?"

I wanted to reply no, that it actually turned me on, even though the girls weren't exactly attractive to me. But I decided that saying anything at all to the girls would get me in trouble -- that all they were really looking to do was make trouble and cause a scene. So I decided to ignore them. I walked away for a moment and came back to my seat.

During all the time that I was in earshot of the girls, I could hear them both (I think the other one was kind of short and skinny, with olive-colored skin and short, black hair in a squarish, boy's cut) talking about me, saying things like, "Oh! He's so offended by two women kissing that he pretends like we don't even exist!"

After I'd sat back down, a tall, kind of big (though a little doughy), young white man slammed himself down in my seat. It was like, instead of sitting at a chair, I was sitting at a booth-style seat, like a small, two-person booth at a McDonald's.

The young man smashed himself into me pretty hard, trying to get a violent reaction out of me. When I didn't do anything, the young man began crying out, "Oh! He really doesn't like gay people, does he? Are you a homophobe? What is it? You don't want to admit that you're really attracted to boys like me?"

I suddenly realized that this boy was the girls' friend. After I'd effectively ignored them, they'd sent the boy to taunt me even worse. They really wanted to get a violent reaction out of me.

Somehow I managed to stand up out of the seat. I went looking for H. I had a feeling that the next thing I'd see was that H was making out with some girl. I thought that the girls must have set up something like that, as well, to try and get a violent reaction out of me. But I knew that wouldn't get a reaction, either. I'd already suspected H of liking girls, if not of actually carrying on affairs with girls. Seeing something like that would be more of a relief to me, since I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. Besides, we weren't even together anymore.

But I looked all around the left and the right sides of the cafe. I couldn't find H anywhere.

I suddenly remembered that there was also a lower level to this cafe. It was actually a karaoke bar. I'd gone to the karaoke bar before. I decided that I'd like t sing a little karaoke. So I'd go down to the bar, partly to look for H, partly to sing.

I got down into the bar. It was narrow and long. There were mirrors on all the walls. Everything seemed to gleam with pink glimmers, like from pink spotlights somewhere. There may also have been silver tinsel hanging from the ceiling.

I saw my old friend EI, who tended bar at an old karaoke bar I'd go to, walking away from the bar and into a second room which looked like a small theater. I also noticed that my second oldest nephew stood to my left, wearing a dull-colored jacket that was way too big for him -- it went down to his knees.

When I saw EI, I told my nephew, "Look! There she is! She's a really good friend of mine. I'd like to introduce you to her."

But it now seemed like EI was way too busy for me to try and introduce her to my nephew. But I still needed to talk to EI. I wanted to sing a couple karaoke songs, and I wanted to find out where H was.

But when EI came back from the small theater room, she seemed to anticipate what I wanted. She said, "Oh, I don't think we can do any karaoke today. They're putting on a big performance back there. It's going to start pretty soon. So we can't have any noise out here. Maybe you could do one or two songs before that show starts. But I'd have to get the equipment all set up and taken down for that. I don't know if I could do it.

"But you could go to the show, if you want! It seems like a pretty good show."

Somehow I got the idea that the show was some sort of campy remake of The Wizard of Oz, with a lot of people in drag. But I also got the idea that the show was actually a number of shows. The shows all had some kind of transgender or gay, or at least extremely sexually uninhibited, feel to them.

Now there were a whole bunch of people all filtering into the lower level. It was just like a normal theater atmosphere now. Everybody knew each other, everybody was acting all cheerful to see everybody else. There were all kinds of tall, beautiful people. Everybody acted cooler than everybody else. Everybody acted like they knew more than everybody else. But everybody was part of everybody's club. Except for me. Somehow I didn't belong.

Somehow I'd gotten hold of a few gaudy, glossy, postcard-sized flyers for the shows. One of the glossies may have confirmed that one show was some sort of transgendered, burlesque-style Wizard of Oz. Another glossy may have shown some Hedwig-style transvestite posing with one arm up in the air and one knee raised pretty high, before some yellow background that looked like yellow chains morphing into liquid gold or yellow flames.

I may have thought at first that I would stay for the show, if only to show EI that I wasn't so self-centered that, if I couldn't do karaoke, I would just leave the bar. But then I began to feel more and more unwanted, more and more like an outcast among all these people. I knew that whoever I sat by at the performance would make the entire time miserable for me. So I just decided I wouldn't go to the show. But before I left, I thought, I'd at least want to say goodbye to EI.