killer shoots self; mother's surgery

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A killer had his potential victim in a hotel room. The hotel room was brightly lit with incandescent light. The victim was sat down against a wall while the killer stood up near a bed.

The killer was a white man, maybe in his late thirties or forties, with a kind of worn face. But he was dressed in something like a sexy female nurse's outfit, and he wore a woman's red-brown wig.

But then, as the killer lifted a gun to the victim's head and gave some weird speech about being killed, the killer's head became all distored, to look like the head of a deformed doll, with strange, plastic, mantis-like eyes popping out of the sides of his head.

In the middle of his speech, the killer shot his gun. The gun was a makeshift, white, plastic gun. But there was something wrong with the gun. And when the killer shot, the bullet came out of the gun backward and hit the killer in the left eye.

The killer had probably just killed himself. But he was dying slowly, and he was still aware of himself. He wandered out of the hotel room, screaming in panic and fear. I saw from his point of view. He was looking down at the ground, which was like asphalt in an alley or a concrete floor in the back hallway of a large building.

Dream #2

My mom had just gone into some medical area to get prepared for a surgery. I was in a waiting room, which was actually a huge warehouse with huge shelves full of stuff like office and industrial merchandise.

An Asian woman (who now reminds me of a woman I worked with about ten years ago on a fire crew in New Mexico) came out to speak with me. She was something like a nurse. But she may also have been a friend of my mom or my whole family.

The woman told me that my mom was really weak coming into this operation, and that that wasn't good news. The doctors had been surprised by how weak my mom had turned out to be. In particular they were worried about something to do with my mom's stomach muscles, which were extremely soft.

As the woman and I spoke about this, we were fumbling around with some tools or some odds and ends of some unconstructed item that lay scattered about on the tops of a few boxes that stood before us in the shadow below a huge shelf. One of the pieces was black metal and looked a little like half of a bicycle pedal.

I was now in a car with my family. The car may have been an SUV, with three or four rows of seats, to accommodate all my sister's children. I was probably in a middle row, probably on the passenger side, looking back to the very back row, or even into the trunk space, where my mother was sitting. My sister or my brother-in-law may possibly have been driving the car.

We were driving my mom to go get surgery. But now my mom mentioned that she had left something at home. We needed to go back home to get whatever my mom needed. It was an inconvenience to go back home. But it was kind of worrisome. Now we might not get to the hospital in time for my mom's surgery.

I was now by myself in a waiting room. My mom had just gone in for surgery. The waiting room was dull, like a storage room or employee break room in a fast food restaurant, with bare, concrete floors and with some small shelves of merchandise against a few of the walls.

My mom had only recently headed in for surgery. But I was already waiting to hear from a doctor or nurse regarding my mom's condition. I knew it was absurd for me to expect to hear something now. I'd have to wait at least an hour to hear something.

But now a doctor came into the room. He was tall, white, with red-tan skin and muscular, but worn, features. He wore green scrubs and a surgery cap.

The doctor introduced himself and implied that he had some news for me about my mom. He then sat down in a desk, possibly a school desk, that backed against a wall like a white, plastic wall that was backlit with a flat, white, fluorescent light.

The doctor spoke to me about some stuff, but it didn't have anything to do with my mom. I couldn't tell for sure, but I thought the doctor was drawing out his conversation, stringing me along, because he enjoyed seeing me in suspense.

The doctor's voice was a little high-flat and prissy, like the voice given to men in stereotypical depictions of gay men. I figured the doctor was gay. He also seemed to be implying, by the subjects he spoke to me about, that he thought I was gay. He at least seemed to know, somehow, that I was an occasional transvestite.

The doctor now had something he thought would interest me and give me a sense of connection with the transvestite community. It was either a pulp novel or the blown up cover of a pulp novel. The novel apparently had something to do with transvestism. The cover was mostly red. It may have depicted a couple of people near a bed.

the burning-up disease; can't let go; central gossip

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in some room like a side room or a storage room in a large building like a high school or a college. But the side room was also filled with desks, like it was a classroom itself. I sat at one of the desks.

An older woman, like Mary Carrillo in Entre Tinieblas, stood behind me, looking over my shoulder. I was writing in a notebook. I was apparently writing gossip about movie stars. But it was also like I was writing gossip about the woman's family, friends, or business associates.

This was apparently my job, and now my work day was over. I stood up out of my desk. The older woman, who was probably my boss, told me what elements of gossip I was missing about people. I would need to fill this gossip into the stuff I was writing.

As I stood out of my desk, a young man, maybe Southeast Asian, with dark skin and short hair, and wearing a blue, button-up shirt and tie, walked into the room. He prepared to sit down in the desk in front of my desk. This man was a financial researcher. He now worked either for one of my old bosses or somebody like one of my old bosses.

The man's boss came into the room now. He was really lighting into the young man, who may now have been sitting, about how terrible some of his recent work had been, and how he needed to improve so much. I came to understand that the quality of my old work had been much higher than the quality of this man's work.

The woman was gone, but I had another boss, probably like one of my old bosses. This boss of mine may have told me about how good my work was. He probably then told me some things I'd need to do when I came in to work the next day. I was leaving for the night on very good terms with my boss. This probably made the other worker jealous.

I walked out of the building, which was now a lot like a college building. It was night, but there were a lot of people walking into or around the building. The building had a glass wall where the doors were. But the glass was was nestled in between two semicircular, sweeping brick structures. Before the entrance to the building was a wide, concrete plaza-like area. Beyond that was a parking lot which mostly lay in darkness.

There were a few black women walking in toward the building. Some of them were walking alongside their bicycles. There may also have been a few black women walking out from the building. I may have been worried that they were walking faster than me and that I needed to speed up.

I got out to a sidewalk that ran alongside a road connecting the parking lot to the outside road. It was pretty dark here. I knew I had to catch a bus. The bus seemed pretty far away. I had to walk down this road to the main road. I had to turn right onto the main road and head up some hill that ran along the grounds of this school. I then had to turn right and walk some distance along a back road to get to the bus stop.

But it was already almost time for the bus to arrive. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to catch the bus at all. But I thought there was a small chance that if I ran I could catch the bus. So at first I began walking really fast, and then I began running.

But as I was running I heard a voice tell me that I shouldn't put too much effort into my running. I was now in some room with an old, tall, thin man in a white lab coat. The man was telling me about the effects on the bodies of people who had overexerted themselves in really hot weather (although I don't remember the weather having been hot).

The man may have shown me photos or films of, or just vividly told me about, one person in particular. This person overexerted himself in hot weather. He had something like a heart attack -- his heart just locked, froze up. But then the rest of his body malfunctioned. His body heat kept rising and rising, until finally his insides just began melting.

I may have asked the man not to tell me anymore about this man, or even about this disease. I may have tried to walk to another room, just to get away from the man's gruesome stories. This room was like a classroom. But it didn't have any school desks in it, and it was divided in certain places by curtains like curtains dividing bed spaces from each other in a hospital room.

The man sat right outside or on the threshold of one of these curtained areas, in a pale, wooden chair. Just inside the curtained area was a big desk like a teacher's desk. A sexy nurse sat at the desk, working away at  a report or some kind of paperwork.

The man was continuing to tell me about the burning-up disease. He told me that as the burning-up disease progressed, actual layers of skin would peel away from a person's body, just curling backward. He may have said that this began at the extremities of the body.

To prove this to me, the man was holding a white, plastic trash bag with a man's hand in it. I couldn't see the man's hand, but I knew that there were sections of the hand where the skin was peeling backwards. But instead of the skin peeling backward and revealing red or pink flesh beneath, it just revealed more and more whitish, rubbery skin.

Dream #2

I was flying through the air with my brother. I don't know what kind of aircraft we were in, or whether we were in an aircraft at all. I was definitely at least partly exposed to the air.

My brother was in control of the flight, and he was flying really erratically. This may partly have been because he was fighting or maneuvering around something like a dragon. But he was also flying really crazy just because he wanted to shake me up, possibly even to get me thrown out of the air altogether.

I don't know whether my brother knew this, but I was holding onto a notebook. The notebook had important information in it, and I couldn't let go of it. It was hard enough to stay in the air with my brother's flying. But it was even harder to hold on to the notebook.

Now I was back on the ground. I'm not sure about my brother. I was moving through a street. I was moving along one of the lanes in the street, as if I were in a car. But I'm not sure I actually was in a car. I felt like I was out in the open air, floating maybe a meter above the ground, standing straight up, and moving along the road at about the speed of the car. Others on the road may have been doing the same thing, including a really cute, well-dressed, Asian girl.

I still had the notebook in my arms, even though I felt like I had lost something while I'd been up in the air. I was disappointed that I'd lost whatever I'd lost. But I thought I could at least boast to my brother, if it was ever brought up, that I hadn't lost the notebook.

I turned left down some road. I was then in a bedroom. The bedroom seemed big and nice, maybe with thick, wood walls. But it was all cluttered with stuff like blankets.  I was probably sitting on the floor, at something like a low desk, surrounded by all kinds of blankets. I may have been trying to do some kind of work, either in a notebook or on a computer.


But now my mom opened the door to my room. I think that when my mom opened the door, I could see into the halllway. I think it was then that I realized I was in some really big mansion.


My mom told me that my brother wanted to talk to me. He had some really big scheme for making a lot of money. And he wanted me to be in on it. The scheme also involved one of his friends. So he wanted me to meet his friend as well.


But I had a bad feeling about the whole thing. I already knew that I simply wouldn't be a part of any scheme my brother was putting together. But I was a little worried that I wouldn't be able to avoid meeting my brother's friend. I had a bad feeling, though, that if I met my brother's friend, that would bring a whole bunch of trouble into my life.


So I told my mom no, that I didn't want to see my brother. I may have told her that I was still mad at him for flying so crazy and almost making me lose my notebook.


But now I could see my brother beyond the doorway, coming up a thick, wooden staircase at the end of the hallway. Instead of talking to my mother, I was now walking out of the doorway and speaking directly to my brother.


I was so angry that I must have been scaring my brother. Instead of walking up the stairwell, he was now walking down it, backwards. He was still calling up to me, a really wild look in his eyes, talking about his scheme, and talking about this friend of his he wanted me to meet.

But finally I must have said something really insulting or upsetting to my brother. He finally stopped talking. But he seemed really sad, depressed. I felt bad for having told him whatever I'd told him.

We were now sitting down in something like a living room. My brother sat in a big, cushiony chair. I sat down on the floor. I may have been writing in a notebook, which may have rested on something like a stool. All around me and my brother was clutter, mostly stuff like bedding. At some point I may have apologized to my brother for whatever bad thing I'd said to him.

Dream #3

Possibly something about my needing to put together gossip about a Japanese pop group, maybe the group AKB 48. I saw a group of Japanese girls in plaid mini-skirts, yellow sweaters, and white button-up shirts walking down the street.

I may have felt like I had two groups of information -- which I may have visualized as two ends of a black and white photograph. But I may have felt like I needed one last piece of information, which would have been like the center of the photograph, except that it would have been in color, and it would have been real and living, not photographic at all.

hospital television

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I woke up in a hospital. I got up and began walking around the hallways. The first hallway I walked through was golden with sunlight. There were people all around. But I didn't feel crowded. Everybody was taking care of their own business. I felt like I was left to myself.

I had apparently had some sort of surgery. I may have woken up from the surgery, or I may have woken up from a long convalescence following my surgery.

People may have been worried whether I'd survive at all. But now I seemed to be completely fine. I may actually have been looking for a doctor or nurse. I may have thought that I was going to be checked out of the hospital this morning.

I wandered down another hallway, possibly on the opposite side of the building. from the hallway I'd been walking down. This hallway was much dimmer. The sun didn't reach through the hospital rooms out into the hallway as it did on the other side of the building.

I wandered into a room where a father and a couple of his children were sitting on a couple beds and watching TV. The room was bright with daylight. I could see through a window to the suburban street below. The father and children didn't seem sick. I had the feeling they were actually waiting for the mother of the family to get well.

I think I had been looking for a doctor in this room. Since I hadn't found one, I walked out and into another room. This room was near the first room, but on the adjacent corner with the other room. This room was a bit dimmer than the first room.

There were people in the room, and the attitude -- one of waiting for somebody -- seemed to be like that of the first room. But one of the people in this room was definitely ill and being treated. This person may actually have been gravely ill. I wasn't as interested in this room as I'd been in the first room. So I left.

I walked back into the first room. I may have paid more attention to the room this time. The room seemed to be divided -- only by means of room shape and a couple square columns in the room -- into two distinct halves. The father and kids sat on two beds in the left half of the room. The family watched a television set that stood in the right half of the room.

I looked down to the family. The beds had only white sheets on them. The family was all sprawled out and relaxed. The father may have been in his mid thirties, a little chubby, but kind of worn-out looking.

One of the kids caught my eye. She was a little girl, maybe six or seven years old. She was tiny and skinny, with short, blonde hair. She lay on her stomach on the bed. She wore only a tiny t-shirt and a pair of pink panties.

The sight of the girl's bottom was arousing me. I decided to look away from the girl, so I wouldn't get in trouble with the dad. I stood behind one of the square columns, kind of to hide from the family, so they wouldn't even be aware that I was in the room.

I looked toward the TV. Something about the TV made me think that this room was a common room. I may have thought that any room in the hospital that had a TV in it was a common room.

The TV was playing some kind of children's channel. Somehow I managed to get the idea of what a few different shows on this channel were like. All the shows seemed to be live-action, studio-style shows, like the old Nickelodeon show You Can't Do That on Television. But many of them also had an anime-like, or Power Rangers-like, edge to them somehow.

I was really interested in seeing more of these shows. But I started to get the feeling that if I stuck around watching children's programming for too long, somebody would accuse me of being a pervert. I wondered myself whether I was a pervert for liking children's shows. But I somehow justified myself to myself by saying that I was planning on subscribing to this channel as soon as I got home.

I walked out of the room and back down the dim hallway. It suddenly occurred to me that I'd been away from my own room for a long time now. I could imagine my room, with some of my clothes, and possibly some kind of round-brimmed camping or fishing hat, folded up on my bed.

I thought to myself that in the time I'd been gone, the doctors may have come looking for me. They may have wanted to check me out of the hospital. But if I was away from my room for too long, they'd decide they'd need to come back later on to check me out. In that case I'd have to wait for hours to get out of here. I may already have missed my chance to leave. But, I told myself, if I hurried back to my room I could possibly catch someone who could check me out.