sad little girl on the couch

For a discussion of images in this dream, please visit this post in my blog preemie: my life's (a) dream.

Dream 1

I was in a house with some family. There were a few young girls in the family. Apparently I had charmed them. Now they were all kind of attracted to me.

I walked into a kitchen. I may have been alone. But there was something, oatmeal or something, cooking on the stove. I may have felt or thought about the dad of the family being somewhere nearby.

It may have occurred to me that the dad was catching on that the girls were attracted to me. And he was now kind of wary of me. I was a little afraid that he'd do something violent to me, just because he was mad his girls were attracted to me. But I was more afraid that he'd just stop liking me and think of me as a bad person.

I walked into the living room. It was kind of dim. It felt big, but a little thin-walled, like the living room of a trailer home. The room was mostly empty.

I saw one of the girls, possibly the oldest girl, walking into the living room from the opposite end of the room. Hoping to make her even more attracted to me, I sat down and slouched way low on the couch -- so my head was way down on the back cushion and my body from my hips down was hanging off the couch. I may also now have been wearing only my boxer briefs.

The girl may have sat in an easy chair right next to the couch. She seemed sad. I asked her why she was sad.

The girl stood up. She was now just wearing underwear: a white bra and white panties, possibly bikini briefs, or possibly boy shorts with frills on the legs. The panties had a red stripe somewhere near the hips.

The girl stood over me. I could see she was really attracted to me. I hadn't meant to make her that attracted to me. I thought maybe I should cool things down. But the girl was also really sad. So I wanted to listen to her and let her express herself to make sure she knew I thought her feelings were valid.

The girl lay down, either right on top of me or a little to my right side, so she was straddling my right flank and leg. She may have started moving up and down on me as she said, "Mommy and Daddy just told me Daddy's going away. He won't be coming back. I don't know what to do."

I understood this to mean that the mom and dad were getting a divorce. I was kind of surprised. I would never have guessed that would happen. And I couldn't figure out what would have happened between the mom and dad that would have led to something like this.

The mom was now in the room. She was probably my cousin. She stood off to the left of the couch. She probably told the girl and me that it was time to get going somewhere.

The girl and I stood up. We had to gather our clothes. But, in addition to our clothes, we were probably pulling up all kinds of things, like blankets, pillows, etc. It was like the living room was filled with all this clutter that the girl and I had just made.

I noticed now that I was either totally naked or wearing some kind of lingerie-skirt item but no underwear underneath. I wondered how I could have gotten naked while I'd been on the couch with the girl. Had we gone that far? I certainly hadn't intended to.

and this guy was like; prison dance practice

Dream 1

I was in some room, probably for a television interview, with Donald Trump and a few young men, some black, some Hispanic, maybe some white. The young men were all either basketball players or rappers. They wore baseball caps at different angles and jeans and shirts not very different from the clothes I wear.

The room may have had bright yellow walls and some mirrors in the background. It may have felt like some sort of waiting area outside a fitting room. But it was big, with a couch and some other items that may have made it feel more like a home.

Trump and most of the young men sat on the couch. Some of the other young men sat in chairs near the back area of the room, possibly where there were some doors for individual fitting rooms. I'm not sure how everybody fit onto the couch. Trump in particular was either much smaller than in real life or was barely sitting on the couch. Yet it seemed like everybody was comfortable.

Trump was talking about something to prove he had done something good for people. It was thought he had done something bad. But all these guys were here to prove that it was something good.

Trump pointed over to a black man on the couch. Trump said something like, "And this guy was like..." The black man stuck out his tongue and puffed up his cheeks.

Trump continued with his talk. But my view now just kept on shifting around to all the different guys in the room. I may have been trying to read their reactions to what Trump was saying. They all seemed genuinely to agree with him.

Dream 2

I was outside, probably in the morning. The sunlight was a kind of golden orange. I stood out on a rolling, green lawn. Some people were coming up from the distance. They may have come on a train that had just arrived.

This was some new place for me, maybe like a school. I had met some people here the day before. But I wasn't familiar with any of them. I decided that this morning I would become familiar with some of them.

A group of girls walked up to me. I may have greeted them and then started walking with them. Then three girls walked up in front of and then past us. One of the girls was Asian, maybe Korean. She had dark skin and long, brown and blonde hair. She wore black plastic-rimmed eyeglasses. This girl was making moves like she was teaching the other two girls some dance moves. The three girls all kind of giggled at the moves.

One of the girls I was walking with seemed a little uncomfortable with the three girls who had passed us. I said, "Oh, no. She's fine," meaning the girl who was teaching the dance moves. I said, "She's my cousin. She has a plan for when she gets out of this prison. She and her friends are going to XXXXX. And they're going to sing the song by their favorite artist and do the dance for it. They're really excited."

tractor beam roller coaster; justifying my job

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a car with a male relative of mine, maybe my cousin or my brother, on a hot, sunny road. The road looked like Second Avenue just above Houston Street in Manhattan, except that the street was a lot wider. The sky was so sunny it may almost have been yellow. My cousin/brother was probably in the driver's seat. I was in the passenger's seat.

Our car was stopped probably in the middle of a block. We may have ostensibly been stopped at a traffic light or stop sign, though it (now) seems like we were way too far from the end of the block to have done something like that. There weren't a lot of other cars on the street, but the cars near us were also stopped.

It seemed like we had been stopped a long time. My cousin/brother and I were talking about something, maybe to keep our minds off of the boredom of being stopped. Or, possibly, my cousin/brother may have been talking about how bored he was while we were stopped and waiting, while I was trying to distract him and make him a little more patient by talking about other stuff.

Suddenly, a fighter jet flew in front of us. It was only a hundred meteres or so up in the air, and it only seemed to be a few blocks away. It flew at a normal position for a moment, then twisted onto its right side to make a turn. Either my cousin/brother or I called out the jet.

I tried to get a better look at the jet, to determine what it was. At first I thought it was an F-35. But something about its shape didn't seem quite right. I almost knew what the jet was, but I couldn't quite think of the name.

The jet flew around to our right, seeming to get closer and closer. I could see it through my windows, just over the building tops. As the jet got closer, it took on more of a triangular shape, like the wings had become long and sleek, clinging tightly to the sides of the jet. I really had no idea what the jet was, now. I got a view of the underside of the jet, which somehow reminded me of a mix between a fighter jet and a commercial airliner.

The jet flew around the back side of our car. I turned to see the jet through the back window. t seemed to be descending. I may have had the ominous feeling that the jet was actually looking directly at my car. I may have wondered if the jet hadn't been sent to follow me as a potential criminal. Possibly to shake off the ominous feeling, I turned around and looked forward, possibly even hoping to clear the thought of the fighter jet out of my memory altogether.

But now the jet flew over the car and began to land maybe twenty or thirty meters away from the car. It was hovering and descending like a helicopter would. The jet was huge. Its back end was kind of strange, with maybe four jets coming off the back end, in a horizontal row. The jets were like rounded rectangles.

The jet released one huge blast of air from its jets. I thought -- I may even have "explained" to my cousin/brother! -- that the blast was like a little cushion of air to help the jet land softly. But the blast was so strong that it actually began pushing the car backwards. The few cars around us didn't seem to be affected.

The car kept moving backward. It didn't seem like it would stop. I now knew that the jet had made the blast of air expressly to get this car moving, and that it would probably keep the car moving. The jet, which may have stayed landed, was now also above us.

The jet again blasted us with air, causing us to move backwards under its direction, maybe even taking a few turns along the road. Other cars around us -- there were a lot more, now -- were driving forward, in a normal flow of traffic, not unaware of us, but not more aware of us than they would be of any other cars on the street.

The jet now somehow lifted us up off the road. We may have been lifted with a blast of air. But the blast of air, I thought to myself, if it was a blast of air, was now acting like a tractor beam. The car was flown over some buildings, then over a densely packed area of buildings that were maybe four or five stories tall. It was like all the roads were gone, and like now all there were were buildings. But I felt like I was just in some "back area," like an alleyway, or a secret entrance area for all these buildings.

At some point during all of this, the car began moving forward instead of being pulled backward. The jet may now have been gone. My brother/cousin may also have been gone, or I may simply have been less aware of him.

I was directed to a building-sized hole set into a cluster of buildings. Something about this hole reminded me of a multi-story parking garage. But it was very dark and shadowy, and something about its edges seemed more like the walls of a demolished building, or the gaping maw of a monster. Red-painted metal tracks, like the tracks of a modern high-speed roller coaster, came twisting up out of the abyss. My car was directed to and then linked up with the tracks.

I knew, or at least assumed, that the tracks would lead down into some government building. As I'd suspected, I thought, the government had brought me here. I coasted along the twists and turns of the track, always heading toward the black abyss, but never seeming to reach it.

I was a bit apprehensive. I reflected that I didn't know whether I was being brought here by the government for a good or bad reason. Did the government want me because they felt I had some kind of special talent? Or did they want me because they felt like I was involved with some kind of heinous crime. I knew that if they thought I was involved with a crime, they'd probably torture me.

Even though I knew I hadn't been involved with anything bad, I assumed I was probably being brought here to be tortured. I wasn't afraid of the pain as much as I was afraid that, in pain, I would embarrass myself by acting weak and screaming and crying.

Dream #2

I was sitting at "my office," which was a big, unfinished room filled with natural light. The room felt like the side room of a large house, or like some long, narrow room in a basement. The floors were probably linoleum tile. The walls were really tall, tall as walls in a mansion. But they had a cheap look to them. Windows ran all along the top of the wall to my left, letting in dazzling beams of white-gold sunlight.

I sat at the left corner of a long table. The table was like a mix between a trading desk and a lunchroom table. My computer -- possibly an old, clunky, 1980s style computer, and possibly a phone, were the only things on the desk.

I sat before the computer and spoke on the phone. I was probably running down some sort of call list that I had on my screen. I had just managed to get a hold of some insurance agency that was listed at the bottom of my screen. The insurance agency's name was the same as the last name of the owner. Something about that name seemed really familiar to me.

A woman picked up the phone and answered with her name. I recognized the woman's first name and the woman's voice. She was MM, a client of mine from a job I'd been laid off from four years ago. She had simply taken on her married name while she was working at this insurance office, which she and her husband ran together.

Happy to speak with MM again, I said who I was, asked MM if she remembered me, and asked how she was doing. I never really heard MM's voice responding to me. But I knew she had now probably asked why I was at the job I was at, and what kind of work I was doing.

I pushed myself backward, away from my desk, and then forward and off to my right, toward the exit from this room, on something like a mix between an office chair and a skateboard. All this time I was still talking on a phone, which may have been a cord-bound, landline phone.

I kind of skirted the issue of why I was working at this new job, though now that MM had brought up the question of why, I now felt a little ashamed of the fact that I was working here. Instead, I explained what the job was.

Apparently, I was something like the first line of attack in a collections agency, or something like that. When people were in financial trouble with a company that had loaned them money or given them credit, the people were sent over either to me or to my company. I then had the job of calling these people and telling them that their credit was in trouble.

This, I'm pretty sure, was all I was supposed to do. The people who had been notified and who had accepted the information were then routed to some kind of credit repair or debt collection place. Somehow I earned money for each person I'd spoken with who had accepted the fact that they needed to start work on the first stages of whatever process they would then be put through.

I had an image of a call list for my job. It seemed to be like an Excel spreadsheet. But it seemed to be written on paper, in bright, red crayon, and possibly in a childlike scrawl. I tried to explain to MM that felt like this was a really good business to be in, and that I could make a lot of money from it, even though I myself was beginning to have doubts about that.

As I continued speaking with MM, I was wheeling myself into a different room, with cheap wood-paneled walls and thin, grey carpet.  I wheeled myself up to a long, wooden desk, like the sales desk of some old merchandise shop, and then out into a larger, office-like area of the room, through a waist-high, swinging door.