Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I can't quite remember where I was at first. I had been having a conversation with a group of people, probably including my mother. Those people then went away. We had all been together at one location. But now we were split apart.
I may have been trying to figure out how to get back to some of the people, at least my mother. But the people were all so far away. It was like I was in the mountains and they were somewhere else, maybe in a completely different mountain range, and that my only means of getting to that other place would imply a lot of trudging and tediousness.
I was probably still in the mountains -- a sunny slope of copper pine-needle-strewn, dusty soil, with thin-trunked trees here and there around me. Before me were two women who I may have thought of as being from India. They were mother and daughter, both skinny, wearing shirts like modern t-shirts and skirts like colorful, traditional Indian skirts.
The women had explained to me either how the daughter or the daughter's lover, a beautiful, strong, young man, was going away to school in Mexico. Either the mother or both women were now trying to figure out where to live in order to be closer to the school, so that a visit to the school could be made on a somewhat frequent basis, like once a month or once a week.
I explained to the women that if they lived in India, they could take a sailing passage down straight through to Mexico. This didn't quite make sense to me (even in my dream, where usually anything makes sense!).
I was now floating over either a map of the world or the world itself. I was only getting very tight views, which were never quite in alignment with exactly what I wanted to see. But I did get the idea from everything that there was a channel of water that connected, through India, around Eastern Europe, then down under Southern Europe, then alongside the northeastern edge of South America, which was apparently where Mexico was located. Some parts of the map blinked colors like a bruisy red, indicating key locations along the journey. One of these points was the location of the university in Mexico.
One land mass struck me as very interesting. It was a large island. I thought it should have been a country itself, it was so large. But I couldn't think of what country it could be. Somehow I made my view flash the names of all the countries I was seeing. This large island still had no name over it.
But something, some words flashing over it, made me realize that the island was either the property of a number of nations or a neutral zone that was the property of no nation. But either one or a number of nations were using this island as a place for military tests, or else it struck me personally that this island would be a good place for military tests.
As I tried to figure out more about this island, to figure out exactly where it was, the mother began speaking again. She told me that the daughter's father (?) had gone abroad for university as well. I imagined the father in a black and white photo, with kind of pale skin, a broad, square jaw, wavy hair combed back a bit, and thin, pudgy eyes. The mother spoke about the father not as if he'd ever been her husband, but as if he'd been a fairy tale male figure in the life of some other, fairy-tale-like woman the mother had known, possibly a woman very much like the mother saw the daughter as being.
The mother told me that the father had gone to the XXXXX School for Electrical Engineering. She said it almost apologetically, like there was some stigma of a lower level of education or lower cultural class from a school devoted only to electrical engineering. The school had, actually, struck me at first as not being a great school. But I wanted to defend the mother's emotions and let her think that the school was good.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the school was probably a very good school. It was the school, I now reflected, of electrical engineering for the entire nation of XXXXX. In the United States, I knew, we had schools for electrical engineering for entire states, such as, I told myself, the XXXXX School for Electrical Engineering.
My view was now of the mountain slope and the two women again. I tried to tell the mother about the XXXXX School for Electrical Engineering in the United States. But I didn't express very well what a prestigious school it was. The mother said there was another school like it. I thought of MIT, though I couldn't remember what the acronym stood for. I told the mother that MIT was a good school, and that the people from there were known for being highly cultured as well as very proficient at electrical engineering.
The mother now told me a story about the father -- now, possibly, as if the father actually had been the mother's husband. But the mother now looked a lot different. She was square-framed, possibly overweight, with baggy, turtle-like skin, saggy, pale eyes, and pale red-brown hair. She wore a pink-tan or orange-tan t-shirt that somehow didn't fit her very well, like it was skewed or crooked on her body.
The mother told a story about postcards, and possibly letters, the father would send back home. The letters were apparently diligent and romantic. But they may also have had some comic, eccentric element to them. The father's method of sending the postcards may also have been eccentric somehow.
The mother kept using the word "she" when she spoke about the father. It was like she wasn't very good at English. She would say "she" when using the pronoun in the nominative sense. But when using a possessive pronoun referring to the father, she'd said "his." Occasionally she may have mixed things up even further by switching up and saying "he" and "her."
The mother may have been slightly aware of her mistake. She may even have tried to apologize for it at some point. But it became clear that she was moving through her story as quickly as she could, and struggling hard to state everything else as clearly as she could in English, and still only achieving a halting relation of her story. So she simply couldn't take the time to get every pronoun's gender correct. I did my best to listen to the mother without showing any sign that I was even aware of her mistakes.
Dream #2
I was laying on a couch in a big living room. The couch was all done up as a bed, with sheets, blankets, etc. My head lay on one of the arms of the couch. The couch was probably near a window, through which moonlight probably shone.
A cat was now on the couch with me. And instead of laying with my head on the arm of the couch, I was curled up in some strange position, so that my head was near the center of the couch, but my arms and legs were both pointed toward the same arm of the couch. I was probably also leaning against the back of the couch.
The cat had been sitting on my legs and arms. It now stood up and defecated on my hands. It just kept crapping and crapping. Before long, a few long, warm pieces of crap were piled on my hands. The cat then jumped off the couch and walked away.
I either stood up or figured I would have to stand up soon. I knew I'd need to clean the crap off my hands and the couch. But I also had to do something to the cat itself. I may have needed to clean the cat, so as, somehow retroactively, to clean the feces that had come out of the cat. I may also have thought I'd need to teach the cat to use a litter box. This also would have some kind of retroactive effect on the feces already on the couch. I may also have thought I'd need (or want?) to punish the cat by hitting it hard.
Dream #3
I was in a room that was like a living room or a bedroom in a suburban house. The room was probably unfurnished. The walls were white. The floor was white carpet. There were some windows high up on the wall letting in stark, white sunlight -- though the light may somehow have been blocked by gauzy curtains or by some kind of fabric around my own head. I sat all wrapped up in blankets on the floor. I was leaning against something like the bottom of an overturned armchair, pressing myself against a black, mesh-like fabric.
I was listening to a conversation in a conference room. BS, my old boss from a few years ago, was speaking with some other person. The other person was telling BS how some young man had done a really good job on some project. The young man had put a lot of effort into the project, and the project had, apparently, made a lot of money for the company. So the other person felt it was only right to give the young man a raise.
But BS -- who may not even have worked for the same company as the young man and the other man! -- didn't feel that was right. BS was obviously feeling greedy for money and glory, and didn't want to portion any of it out to any other person -- especially a young man. This was all obvious in some initial, non-verbal, grunts and moans BS gave in reaction to what the other man had said. Then BS started trying to give an intelligent-sounding reasoning for why the young man deserved neither a raise, a promotion, nor recognition.
This all sounded horribly characteristic of BS to me. I felt like I needed to call BS on his creepy demeanor this time around -- if not to defend myself against what I felt he had done to me, then at least to defend another person from being victim to the same thing that had been done to me. But I may have realized, at some point, that BS and the other man had been speaking about me.
I now saw that behind the black, mesh-like fabric against which I was pressing myself (which was now at the bottom of something more like a kitchen chair than an armchair) was a Polycom conference call phone unit. I had been hearing the conversation via this unit. I also realized that my line wasn't muted. So I could speak into the room and be heard.
So, right in the middle of BS' speech on why the young man shouldn't be granted anything, I simply called out, "Ah... Old BS!" I pronounced his whole name, slowly, like an old radio announcer.
BS immediately recognized my voice. He was angry that an eavesdropper had caught him in a conversation. But he was infuriated that I personally was the eavesdropper. He shouted in rage, his shout increasing sharply in intensity.
Dream #4
I was in a room like a basement living room. There were some other people, probably young men and women, in the room. But the room was mostly dark, and I really couldn't see the other people. The other people sat close to each other. But I was kind of separated from them. We may all have been sitting on the floor, under blankets, though I may have been standing at first. The only light coming into the room was from the top of a stairwell. It was natural light, but only a few slivers of light came down into the room.
This room may have been "my office." But it may also have been some place where I and the rest of the group -- probably my co-workers -- were having some get-together or party, maybe even a slumber party. But I was still working, even though we were at this party. It may have been that we were all just waking up after the night of the slumber party, and that I was now trying to catch up on a little bit of work.
I was on an iPhone, speaking to a person in some company. I was trying to locate the head of the company, so I could make a sales pitch to that person. I was speaking with a woman who was, at first, something like the receptionist for the company.
But as I continued speaking with the woman she became something more like the daughter of the head person in the company, or possibly even one of the head people in the company herself, though she was probably still devoted to the head person as if the head person were her father. The woman, I knew was a young, black, pretty, but very stable, solid-bodied, and professional woman.
The woman at first began by acting as if she didn't have time for me and didn't want to pass me along to anybody else within the company. But as I continued my pitch and continued asking for a higher-level person within the organization, the woman got more upset. It was like I was somehow playing with her emotions in a bad way.
Somehow the family relations within this company were in disarray. It became apparent that the woman couldn't discuss the higher-level person because it made her unbearably sad. She was now so dazed by her sadness that she couldn't even carry on a coherent conversation. She told me that she had to get off the phone and that, if she felt the need to do so, she'd get back to me.
I hung up the phone. The iPhone's face was full of icons and had a lava-red background. I now stood closer to the rest of the people in the basement. I felt a little ashamed. They'd obviously just heard my whole conversation. I was a little ashamed, first of all, that I'd been caught working at a time like this, when everybody else was either sleeping or having fun. But I also felt a little ashamed that I'd been caught putting the woman on the phone into such a bad emotional state.
Now the woman called back. She was still audibly rattled by whatever emotions my sales pitch had drawn up in her. But she had put a mask of order and professional retaliation over her distress. She was speaking to me about something -- perhaps about how nobody in her company would be interested in speaking to me. But something about what she was saying also made it sound like the woman had actually gotten in contact with her lawyers, in order to press charges against me for the emotional turmoil I'd put her through.
I may have tried to justify my actions to myself, to prove to myself that there was no way the woman could bring any charges against me. But I may not have been able to do so. I may have thought that, in my carelessness, I had done something, some little thing that was now slipping my mind, that would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was guilty of wrongly injuring this woman emotionally.
Showing posts with label father. Show all posts
Showing posts with label father. Show all posts
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Sunday, October 7, 2012
stuffed animal neighbor; brother-in-law deals drugs; stars and stripes cafe; a load of crap
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
It was late afternoon, just after the sun had set. I was standing out in front of the house next door to my family's house. My brother-in-law and/or my nephew stood in the front yard, facing me while I faced the house. I was dressed very nicely, though the color of my clothes was kind of odd: pastel greens and forest greens, like one might see a little boy wearing on Easter Day.
I was having a kind of calm conversation with my brother-in-law. But then the neighbor came out of her house. She was a snoop, always getting into other people's business. She thought she had found a really good way to get my brother-in-law, and possibly me, in trouble. She may even have made a snide comment to that effect, to taunt me and my brother-in-law.
We did get a little afraid, and we headed back into the house. But I suddenly got mad. It didn't make any sense to me at all that this woman should have such power over us. I wanted to turn the tables on her, to show her that I was not afraid of her.
I went back over to the woman's house. I entered the house. I may have brought stuff with me. Suddenly the woman's house was filled with stuffed animals. Other members of my family came into the house as well. It was suddenly like we were all trying to overpower the woman, to get her out of the house.
At some point I may have gotten close to the woman and whispered things in her ear. The woman may then have turned into a stuffed animal.
Dream #2
I had just finished some kind of task successfully. I was now entering to some house that I had been asked to house-sit. It was like the house was part of a brownstone. The interior was long and narrow, almost like the interior of a clothing boutique. There may have been clothing racks along the walls.
There was a mannequin in the center of the shop. It was white and headless, and it wore an orange dress of slightly shimmery material with a blouse that had a wrapped effect with a sharply v-cut chest line. The mannequin really turned me on. I walked up to it and embraced it. I thought I was going to try to have sex with it. But I felt like someone was looking. I suddenly stopped embracing the mannequin.
My mom sat on a couple of stairs at the far end of the room. She began talking to me about something, maybe getting my sister and my brother-in-law to do something. She may have expressed doubt about this, like she thought my sister and brother-in-law were too lazy to do what my mom wanted them to do, or like she thought they were just a couple of cheats who'd try to cheat their way out of doing it.
While my mom spoke, I looked all over the store. All over the place, I saw stacks of my mother's clothing -- mostly panties. My mom is overweight, and her panties were kind of big. Nevertheless, as I saw her panties, I wanted to wear them. Some had nice colors: purple, blue, pink, with flowers and butterflies on them.
My mom had somehow tasked me with taking care of something regarding my sister and brother-in-law, as if she thought I could get them to stop doing whatever it was she thought they were doing.
Now I was suddenly outside, at night, at a big, new gas station that seemed to be alone on some desert highway. My brother-in-law stood out at a pump, filling up a white business van. I knew that my brother-in-law was actually out on some trip to sell drugs. He was about halfway to where he was going. Whenever he sold drugs, he would use this white van.
Suddenly my dad pulled up to the gas station. My brother-in-law obviously hadn't expected to see my dad while he was in the middle of making a drug run. He knew my dad was protective of my sister. Seeing my sister's husband in the middle of a drug run would obviously infuriate my dad.
My brother-in-law tried to hide what he was doing. But, for some reason, he had my family name (not his family name) and some phone number written in yellow paint on one of the back windows of the van. It was obvious, somehow, that this was an advertisement for selling drugs. But, as my brother-in-law saw my dad walking up to him, he tried to hide the advertisement, or obscure it in some way, to make it seem like it was an advertisement for some kind of service, like maintenance or something.
My dad walked up to my brother-in-law and seemed kind of friendly at first. My brother-in-law responded in a kind of friendly way. But then my dad said a couple of quick things to my brother in law, something along the lines of "How are you feeling? Do you feel good? Do you hurt in any way? Well, does this hurt you at all?" My dad kicked my brother-in-law in the stomach. He may also have shot my brother. Somehow, an umbrella (???) was also involved in the situation.
Dream #3
I was in a huge cafe, maybe something more like a big common area in a college that had been transformed for the evening into a makeshift coffee shop. The place was mostly dim, with just a few lights shining off in the distance. The place was full of young men and women, all sitting around with each other in big groups at tables, having a good time.
I may have been sitting off to one side all by myself at first. But a couple people ended up coming over to me. One was a girl. Another was a guy, probably a French guy. The girl eventually went away. The French guy, who had seemed hostile toward me at first, ended up being a lot nicer as time went on.
Now there was some kind of performance going on. The performance was some little song. I didn't realize until the end of the song that the French guy had been performing. I thought he'd just been sitting there beside me. But now the performance was ended. Everybody was clapping. I realized I needed to clap, too: otherwise, the French guy would get hostile toward me and not clap for me after my performance. The French guy smiled and folded up something into a leather satchel.
Now someone started playing the piano. From the opening, I recognized the song: "Stars and Stripes Forever," even though I couldn't name the song. The French guy, hearing the song, began to chuckle a little bit. I may have chuckled as well, thinking, for a talent show -- which apparently this whole thing was, now -- it was a little too obvious or trite to play such a well known song. But as the song continued, I kind of enjoyed the melody on the piano. The piano sound was kind of quick and tinny, very old-timey sounding.
Dream #4
I was standing looking at a wall. The wall was kind of barren. It may have been a cinder block wall. The wall was painted some flat, dark shade of green. There were a couple of old, decaying, wooden shelves high up on the wall, running the full length of the wall.
As I looked at the wall, I could hear my step-grandmother talking about one of her friends. Her friend, a male, was older than she and my grandfather, who passed away about four years ago. My grandma related a story to me about my grandpa and this friend. As she related the story to me, I started taking care of something, maybe taking a jacket off the shelf, shifting myself over to the left, and putting the jacket back on the shelf.
My grandma said that as my grandpa was dying, he told the friend, "You should be the one who's dying. You're older than me." But then something about the story changed. Now my grandma said that my grandpa had said something like, "I'm glad I'm the one who's dying, and not you. You have so many young people in your life. You need to make sure you stay around for them."
As my grandma told this second version of the story, I realized that I was defecating. A long string of pale-tan crap was coming out of my (apparently clothed) rear end. It wasn't breaking. By now it was at least a meter long -- so long, I could bend it around and hold it in front of me. In fact, I'd shifted to the far left end of the wall by now, and I was starting to place the long line of feces up onto the shelf. The feces may even have been topped with mustard!
I'm pretty sure that even as I was coiling up the mustard-topped feces onto the shelf and listening to my grandma's story about my grandpa, that I realized that the feces was a metaphor. I knew I was somehow defecating and putting the crap up onto the shelf to show that I thought the story I was listening to was a load of crap. I didn't, of course, want to admit that I thought the story was a load of crap, because it was about my grandpa. So I may have started trying to justify my defecation in some other way.
Dream #1
It was late afternoon, just after the sun had set. I was standing out in front of the house next door to my family's house. My brother-in-law and/or my nephew stood in the front yard, facing me while I faced the house. I was dressed very nicely, though the color of my clothes was kind of odd: pastel greens and forest greens, like one might see a little boy wearing on Easter Day.
I was having a kind of calm conversation with my brother-in-law. But then the neighbor came out of her house. She was a snoop, always getting into other people's business. She thought she had found a really good way to get my brother-in-law, and possibly me, in trouble. She may even have made a snide comment to that effect, to taunt me and my brother-in-law.
We did get a little afraid, and we headed back into the house. But I suddenly got mad. It didn't make any sense to me at all that this woman should have such power over us. I wanted to turn the tables on her, to show her that I was not afraid of her.
I went back over to the woman's house. I entered the house. I may have brought stuff with me. Suddenly the woman's house was filled with stuffed animals. Other members of my family came into the house as well. It was suddenly like we were all trying to overpower the woman, to get her out of the house.
At some point I may have gotten close to the woman and whispered things in her ear. The woman may then have turned into a stuffed animal.
Dream #2
I had just finished some kind of task successfully. I was now entering to some house that I had been asked to house-sit. It was like the house was part of a brownstone. The interior was long and narrow, almost like the interior of a clothing boutique. There may have been clothing racks along the walls.
There was a mannequin in the center of the shop. It was white and headless, and it wore an orange dress of slightly shimmery material with a blouse that had a wrapped effect with a sharply v-cut chest line. The mannequin really turned me on. I walked up to it and embraced it. I thought I was going to try to have sex with it. But I felt like someone was looking. I suddenly stopped embracing the mannequin.
My mom sat on a couple of stairs at the far end of the room. She began talking to me about something, maybe getting my sister and my brother-in-law to do something. She may have expressed doubt about this, like she thought my sister and brother-in-law were too lazy to do what my mom wanted them to do, or like she thought they were just a couple of cheats who'd try to cheat their way out of doing it.
While my mom spoke, I looked all over the store. All over the place, I saw stacks of my mother's clothing -- mostly panties. My mom is overweight, and her panties were kind of big. Nevertheless, as I saw her panties, I wanted to wear them. Some had nice colors: purple, blue, pink, with flowers and butterflies on them.
My mom had somehow tasked me with taking care of something regarding my sister and brother-in-law, as if she thought I could get them to stop doing whatever it was she thought they were doing.
Now I was suddenly outside, at night, at a big, new gas station that seemed to be alone on some desert highway. My brother-in-law stood out at a pump, filling up a white business van. I knew that my brother-in-law was actually out on some trip to sell drugs. He was about halfway to where he was going. Whenever he sold drugs, he would use this white van.
Suddenly my dad pulled up to the gas station. My brother-in-law obviously hadn't expected to see my dad while he was in the middle of making a drug run. He knew my dad was protective of my sister. Seeing my sister's husband in the middle of a drug run would obviously infuriate my dad.
My brother-in-law tried to hide what he was doing. But, for some reason, he had my family name (not his family name) and some phone number written in yellow paint on one of the back windows of the van. It was obvious, somehow, that this was an advertisement for selling drugs. But, as my brother-in-law saw my dad walking up to him, he tried to hide the advertisement, or obscure it in some way, to make it seem like it was an advertisement for some kind of service, like maintenance or something.
My dad walked up to my brother-in-law and seemed kind of friendly at first. My brother-in-law responded in a kind of friendly way. But then my dad said a couple of quick things to my brother in law, something along the lines of "How are you feeling? Do you feel good? Do you hurt in any way? Well, does this hurt you at all?" My dad kicked my brother-in-law in the stomach. He may also have shot my brother. Somehow, an umbrella (???) was also involved in the situation.
Dream #3
I was in a huge cafe, maybe something more like a big common area in a college that had been transformed for the evening into a makeshift coffee shop. The place was mostly dim, with just a few lights shining off in the distance. The place was full of young men and women, all sitting around with each other in big groups at tables, having a good time.
I may have been sitting off to one side all by myself at first. But a couple people ended up coming over to me. One was a girl. Another was a guy, probably a French guy. The girl eventually went away. The French guy, who had seemed hostile toward me at first, ended up being a lot nicer as time went on.
Now there was some kind of performance going on. The performance was some little song. I didn't realize until the end of the song that the French guy had been performing. I thought he'd just been sitting there beside me. But now the performance was ended. Everybody was clapping. I realized I needed to clap, too: otherwise, the French guy would get hostile toward me and not clap for me after my performance. The French guy smiled and folded up something into a leather satchel.
Now someone started playing the piano. From the opening, I recognized the song: "Stars and Stripes Forever," even though I couldn't name the song. The French guy, hearing the song, began to chuckle a little bit. I may have chuckled as well, thinking, for a talent show -- which apparently this whole thing was, now -- it was a little too obvious or trite to play such a well known song. But as the song continued, I kind of enjoyed the melody on the piano. The piano sound was kind of quick and tinny, very old-timey sounding.
Dream #4
I was standing looking at a wall. The wall was kind of barren. It may have been a cinder block wall. The wall was painted some flat, dark shade of green. There were a couple of old, decaying, wooden shelves high up on the wall, running the full length of the wall.
As I looked at the wall, I could hear my step-grandmother talking about one of her friends. Her friend, a male, was older than she and my grandfather, who passed away about four years ago. My grandma related a story to me about my grandpa and this friend. As she related the story to me, I started taking care of something, maybe taking a jacket off the shelf, shifting myself over to the left, and putting the jacket back on the shelf.
My grandma said that as my grandpa was dying, he told the friend, "You should be the one who's dying. You're older than me." But then something about the story changed. Now my grandma said that my grandpa had said something like, "I'm glad I'm the one who's dying, and not you. You have so many young people in your life. You need to make sure you stay around for them."
As my grandma told this second version of the story, I realized that I was defecating. A long string of pale-tan crap was coming out of my (apparently clothed) rear end. It wasn't breaking. By now it was at least a meter long -- so long, I could bend it around and hold it in front of me. In fact, I'd shifted to the far left end of the wall by now, and I was starting to place the long line of feces up onto the shelf. The feces may even have been topped with mustard!
I'm pretty sure that even as I was coiling up the mustard-topped feces onto the shelf and listening to my grandma's story about my grandpa, that I realized that the feces was a metaphor. I knew I was somehow defecating and putting the crap up onto the shelf to show that I thought the story I was listening to was a load of crap. I didn't, of course, want to admit that I thought the story was a load of crap, because it was about my grandpa. So I may have started trying to justify my defecation in some other way.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
kicking a little dog; purple diapers and t-shirt; phonecall pools; exhibit m; hill climbing
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was in somebody else's house. The house was yellow with daylight coming in through the windows. The house seemed cluttered. The furniture and other items in the house were brown.
I had to move something out of the house. I had gotten whatever I needed to move out of the house (it may have been something like a tall, wood-backed chair). I was heading for a door.
But now a little dog came running at me. It had longish, red-golden hair. It was skinny, with a long, pointy face and pointy ears. It was barking at me a lot. I thought it was going to bite me. I had been told about the dog, I believe. I knew that while I was taking the item out of the house I had to keep the dog in the house. If the dog left the house, it would be really hard to get it back.
So I kicked at the dog kind of violently, to keep the dog in the house. I had the door open and was pulling the item out of the house when the dog attacked me again. This time, instead of just kicking at the dog, I kicked the dog. I kicked the dog a number of times before the dog ran yelping away into the house.
Once I'd secured the item outside the house I started to feel bad for having kicked the dog. I went back into the house to see the dog and make sure it was okay. When I found the dog it was afraid of me. It scuttered away from me and hid behind a chair. I followed after it. The dog was laid over on its left side. The dog was now black, with sleek fur, almost like the feathers of a starling bird.
I believe I petted the dog and that, after a while, the dog began to feel comfortable around me and to respond to me.
Dream #2
I was at "my step-grandmother's house." I had apparently either come to live with my step-grandmother or to spend a few days with her. It was night. We were in some room kind of like a living room mixed with a study. The light in the room was dim -- maybe just one lamp for the whole room.
My step-grandmother had been telling me all the preparations she'd been making for my arrival here. As she told me this stuff, she sat in a high-backed, cushioned chair, while I sat down at her knee, on some comfortable, cushioned stool.
My grandma told me something about how she'd made similar preparations for someone who'd come to live here before me. The person seemed to be alternately a man and a woman -- or perhaps there had been a man and then a woman in succession. I believe that when my grandma spoke about the woman, she seemed to mention the woman as if she were very fashionable, as if my grandma always had to think of how to be "fashionable enough" for her guest.
But when my grandma mentioned the man, she mostly liked to draw attention to his quirks. For instance, my grandma mentioned an "unfortunate" collection the man had left of fashion magazines. These magazines smelled like perfume. My grandma hadn't even known the man had had such a huge stack of fashion magazines. And my grandma hoped that I wouldn't mind them being in the room I'd be using. My grandma would soon be throwing these magazines away.
When I heard about the magazines, I kind of wanted to tell my grandma that she shouldn't throw them away. I loved fashion magazines, and I wanted to see the ones the boy had left.
I had now stood up and paced out across the room and back. As I did, my clothing changed from normal boys' clothing to a tight, short, purple t-shirt and a purple Pampers Underjams diaper.
My grandma was discussing difficulties she'd had in getting the place prepared for me personally. She seemed to be at the end of the list once I'd gotten back to her. But now she said, "And, here. See? Let me see here. What are you wearing under this shirt?"
My grandma lifted up my shirt. She said, "Ah. Just what I suspected. Diapers."
My grandma stood up and paced to the opposite side of the room. I followed her. I now noticed that the opposite wall of the room was of stone, with a fireplace set into the stone, and a little platform in front of the fireplace.
My grandma said, "I was thinking of setting you up with a girlfriend while you were here. But I didn't, because I knew you were going to be wearing diapers. I just didn't know, if you were wearing diapers, if you'd want to be spending any time with a pretty girl as well."
I was sad that my grandma hadn't set me up with the girl. I thought that maybe I shouldn't have worn diapers here after all.
Dream #3
I walked through the doorway of some kind of stone- or cinder-wall barrier. A pretty, skinny, tall, blonde woman had been walking with me. But she stopped walking and stood just inside the doorway, on the right (our right) side of the doorway.
It was a clear, hot, sunny day. I was walking along a wide concrete path. Off to my right were pools of water. They were square-shaped, divided from each other by concrete walls. The water in each pool looked a little different. The shapes of the floors of the pools was also different. Some pools were just even cubes. Others had steps or tiers in them. Some may actually have extended out a lot farther than the others.
Some of the pools had flowing water, and some of the pools had still water. The water in all the pools seemed to be clean -- I think the one thing the water had in common was a slight greenish tint (which I think I've always associated with chlorinated water). I think there were supposed to be living creatures in at least some of the pools. But I don't think I ever saw any creatures.
After walking a very short distance, I suddenly crouched down and called my boss' phone. I was crouching down on some kind of basalt outcropping that seemed to jut over a larger body of water than any of the pools. I didn't reach my boss. I decided to leave a voice message for him. But I kept talking and talking so much that the time limit ran out on the voice message.
I hung up my phone. I figured I'd said enough to my boss. I stood up and started walking along the pools again.
But now I realized I hadn't said enough to my boss. In fact, there were key points I'd left out of my voice message. So I called my boss up again and crouched down beside a pool. I got voicemail and talked and talked until the voice message time limit ran out. I then hung up the phone and stood up again.
I was now walking on a concrete sidewalk, up a slight slope, on a street with tall skyscrapers. I knew I was heading into my office. I knew I had been away on some kind of a business trip for a long time. It was like I was a salesman and I had been out selling.
I could see the image of a comic strip clearly in my head. It was black and white, in a straight-edged, 1950s style of line drawing. In the first frame there was a man in a suit and a fedora, walking in the sunlight. The man said something like, "It's good to get back home, to see how the people (down stairs?) are doing. You get back in touch with what's actually happening in the company." In the second frame, the man was heading into a building very much like the building I was heading into.
I now headed into the building and downstairs. Downstairs was a cafeteria. Apparently the first thing I was going to do was grab some lunch. Everything seemed to be sterile and white in the cafeteria. The cafeteria had a Mexican food theme to it -- all the time, I think.
I headed to a steel-countered service area at the back end of the cafeteria. I was really looking for a burrito. The cafeteria was selling one main item that day. But I can't remember what it was. Maybe tacos? I may have grabbed a main item. But I didn't really want it, and I went looking along the counter for something else. It looked like, behind a glass window, they were also serving little single enchiladas and single tamales (the tamales actually looked like tiny burritos) in little, plastic dessert bowls.
A tallish, white man with long, brown hair in a ponytail and wearing a white food service apron came up behind the counter. He asked me if I would like him to get me anything. I asked the man if he had any burritos. The man said, "Oh, no, we aren't doing those today. But we have a lot of other really good stuff."
I now seemed so small that my head barely rose above the steel counter that had previously been waist-height. I looked up over the glass wall at the man and, in a kind of acquiescent way, asked for one of the food items I'd seen in one of the plastic dessert bowls. The man handed it to me.
It seemed like the man understood that he was now done serving me. I figured I'd better just take that as a cue that I shouldn't bother the man anymore by asking him to serve me anymore. But I realized that when I'd asked the man for the item I'd wanted, I'd asked for the wrong item. I'd wanted a tamale and an enchilada. But instead, I'd asked for a ----- (I don't know).
I was now back at the pools. I had walked a little way farther along the pools. But now I remembered that I needed to finish up the details I'd given to my boss. There were a few final things he needed to know. So I crouched down again beside a pool. I called the number and waited for the voicemail to turn on. I looked into the pool I crouched over, maybe even sticking my hand into the pool, in hopes of finding some of the animals I'd thought were here.
Dream #4
I was in a dark hallway in a hospital. I opened a door. My dad was in this room, laying in a hospital bed. The room seemed pretty dim, at least at first: like the room was only lit by a wall-mounted x-ray film illumination screen.
My dad was laying on his left side. He'd been through some kind of really tough situation, and he was only now arriving at a point of recovery. My little brother had also been in this hospital. But he'd recently died, only the night before, or possibly even this morning.
My dad now asked me about my brother. I was kind of surprised nobody had told my dad about my brother. My sister was here, too, like I was -- seeing to my brother and dad. And my sister had seen my dad on a number of occasions during the night and morning, after my brother had died. I had a feeling that my dad should have been told about my brother a lot earlier, and that he'd be a little annoyed when he found out he hadn't been told until so long afterwards.
But I looked at my dad. He looked so weak: pale, dried out, with his hair gone a brittle color of silvery-grey. I thought that the news of my brother's death would distress my dad so much that my dad might relapse into his illness, or even die himself. So I hesitated in telling my dad about my brother. Instead, I told him something like I didn't know exactly what was going on, but that I would tell him the news as soon as I could.
I closed the door and walked out into a lit, moderately busy, hospital hallway. I was trying to figure out who I should ask in order to know for sure whether it was or wasn't okay to tell my dad about my brother. I probably settled on discussing the matter with my sister. But I may also have had the vague, foggy images (as possibilities) in my mind's eye of my mother and of some nurse -- the nurse wearing a very fetish-style nurse costume.
After a while I managed to meet up in the hospital with my sister and mother. But after talking with my sister and mother for a little bit, I realized that the only reason they hadn't told my dad anything about my brother's death was neglect. It wasn't that they wanted to spare my dad's feelings. They just, for some reason or another, neglected to tell my dad anything.
I was a little angry with my mother and sister for having been so neglectful. I may have expressed my anger. But I knew I had to hurry back to my dad and tell him about my brother as soon as I could. I knew there was a chance that my dad could die. And if my dad died before I told him that my brother had died, I could never forgive myself.
I walked into a hospital room. But the bed by the door was empty, the sheets still crumpled up on the bed, as if the person who had been occupying the bed had only recently been removed. I was certain that this meant my dad had died, and that his body had only recently been taken away. There was another bed in the room, which may have had somebody in it. There may also have been a medical staff person in the room with the person in the bed.
But somehow I came to understand that this room was actually not the room my dad had been in. A lot of the rooms looked an awful lot alike in this hospital. I was in a similar-looking room, but in a completely different area of the hospital. I needed to get to the right area of the hospital.
I knew the areas of the hospital were all divided into something like wards. But the wards were called something like "exhibits." The boundary for each exhibit had a plastic sign over it, like over a doorway or a threshold. I think the plastic sign could light up. On the sign were, in black, plastic, capital letters, the word "EXHIBIT" (?) and the exhibit letter.
I knew I needed to get to exhibit M. I knew that my dad's hospital room would be the corner room in a wall lined with rooms. I knew that once I found the correct room, I could just walk in and see my dad in his bed, right where I'd left him.
I walked through exhibits H, I, and J. Each successive exhibit I walked through looked less and less like a hospital and more and more like an old-style library. And the more I walked through these exhibits, the less welcome I felt. It was like I was heading into wealthier and wealthier areas. The people there wondered what I was doing there. They looked down on me and suspected me.
Finally I found exhibit M. I walked past the threshold and found myself in a big, nearly empty, wood-floored and wood-walled room. There were huge paintings on at least two of the walls: one of the side walls and the back wall. The paintings were landscapes or skyscapes. Each picture nearly took up the whole wall on which it was mounted.
I felt extremely unwanted in this exhibit. It seemed like the wealthiest exhibit I'd been to so far. There was a school group -- mostly high school boys -- standing near the back left corner of the room. Some of the boys were actually sitting on the edge of some long heavy marble- or wood-topped table.
At the back left corner of the room was a doorway. I knew I had to go through that doorway to find my dad. But that meant I'd have to go past the high school boys.
I assumed that the boys were all rich, since they were in exhibit M. They were all white, kind of pale-skinned. They wore clothes that were a little baggy and a little thuggy-looking. Some of them wore baseball caps tilted at weird angles. The boys' teacher was a tall, muscular, white man with a nice tan. He wore a nice shirt and slacks and thin-rimmed eyeglasses.
The boys all seemed cheerful enough with each other. But when I passed them I felt a definite change in mood. They all seemed to be focused, now, on how they could cause troubles for me. One of the boys threw a paper wad at me. Another boy actually threw a needle at me. The needle was intended to stick into me. But somehow I managed to spot its flight and catch it in a safe way.
The boys now all seemed to have forgotten about my existence. I was about to cross over the threshold into the next room. In fact, I think I crossed into the next room, which was another huge, empty, museum-like room. But it felt a bit dustier than the other room, and lit with much more harshly bright daylight.
But I quickly turned back toward the first room. Anger had built up in me. I realized that the boy who had thrown the needle at me had really meant to hurt me. What could have been on that needle? And yet the boy had completely ignored me after throwing it. I knew all the boys in the group were in on the needle-throwing. And I intended to make all of them feel some regret for what they'd done.
One boy stood on the threshold between the rooms. He may actually even have stood a little bit into the second room. His back was to me. So I stuck the needle as far into his back as I could. I thought I'd get a little bit of a reaction out of the boy. But he didn't even seem aware that I'd stuck the needle into his back.
I felt bad for sticking the needle into the boy's back. After all, what could have been on that needle? Did I just poison the boy? Did I just give him some kind of disease? Did I really need to be doing something like that to somebody, just because I was mad? I pulled the needle out of the boy's back.
But I was really angry that the boys still seemed not to be upset about having tried to hurt me. So I walked out in front of them all. Apparently the teacher had stepped away. Most of the boys were sitting on the edge of the long table.
I asked the boys if they had any idea that what they'd done to me was wrong. They hardly seemed to be registering my existence at all. So I flipped out on them. They didn't seem to move. I basically went down the line, doing something cruel to each boy. Each thing I did was a little bit different for each boy. I killed one of the boys, maybe even chopping off his head. But, for another boy -- the boy had something like orange juice and orange donuts. I spilled his juice all over the place and began smashing the donuts with the bottom of the cup.
As I was smashing the boy's donuts, the teacher came back into the room. I knew I was probably going to get in a lot of trouble for what I'd done to all the boys. I thought I would explain myself, but I don't know if I ever got started explaining myself. I seemed to be pretty intent on smashing the donuts into paste. I thought that if I could explain myself, I'd possibly get off free. But then I thought that couldn't be possible, considering that I'd killed at least one of the boys.
Dream #5
I was walking up a steep slope with an older man and a younger woman. It was a bright, sunny day. But the sky may have been yellow, rather than blue. We were walking up a sidewalk. But we may have been in a partially forest-like area. The whole environment may also have had some kind of cartoony feel to it, too.
The older man was in the lead. I followed the man, and the woman followed me. The older man was like some established, wealthy business man. He was taking us up to something business related, I believe, at the top of the hill. There may have been some tall, skyscraper-like building up there.
The younger woman had light brown skin. She wore something like a black corset with pink decorations on it. She may also have been wearing pink, feathery wings. Her hair was dyed pink, at least near the roots. The woman had been walking behind me for a ways. Then she walked beside me. I think while she was walking beside me, she'd been expecting me to make some sort of move on her, or at least show some sort of sexual interest in her. I was interested in her. But I was really shy.
According to the older man, this walk was supposed to be a really rigorous walk, and our attainment of the crest was supposed to be a symbol of how, if we put a really strong effort into it, we could achieve anything. Only people who could get to the top of the hill could go into the building at the top of the hill.
But I realized I wasn't walking too fast or trying too hard at all. I was staying a few meters behind the man, keeping pace with him. I even pumped my legs a little bit harder than needed, just so I could feel like I was making the effort the man had said we'd be making.
The woman must have felt the same as I did, because she now moved up ahead of me. As we neared the crest of the hill, the woman even moved up ahead of the man. I was shocked that the woman had gotten into the lead. I was a little ashamed of myself for not having taken the lead myself. And I was envious of the woman.
The woman, who was still attracted to me, sensed my envy. We were all turning to head back down the slope, as if we were now doing something like laps up and down the slope. As we crossed paths, the woman said something to me like, "We all take turns at the front. Whoever's in the back has to run up to the front, right? So now you're in the back. It'll be your turn to run up to the front next."
I kind of had the feeling that the woman was saying this only to soothe my envy. But I thought that, if she was right, I was well-positioned for running up to the front. We were heading downhill. So it would be easy for me to get up my speed.
Dream #1
I was in somebody else's house. The house was yellow with daylight coming in through the windows. The house seemed cluttered. The furniture and other items in the house were brown.
I had to move something out of the house. I had gotten whatever I needed to move out of the house (it may have been something like a tall, wood-backed chair). I was heading for a door.
But now a little dog came running at me. It had longish, red-golden hair. It was skinny, with a long, pointy face and pointy ears. It was barking at me a lot. I thought it was going to bite me. I had been told about the dog, I believe. I knew that while I was taking the item out of the house I had to keep the dog in the house. If the dog left the house, it would be really hard to get it back.
So I kicked at the dog kind of violently, to keep the dog in the house. I had the door open and was pulling the item out of the house when the dog attacked me again. This time, instead of just kicking at the dog, I kicked the dog. I kicked the dog a number of times before the dog ran yelping away into the house.
Once I'd secured the item outside the house I started to feel bad for having kicked the dog. I went back into the house to see the dog and make sure it was okay. When I found the dog it was afraid of me. It scuttered away from me and hid behind a chair. I followed after it. The dog was laid over on its left side. The dog was now black, with sleek fur, almost like the feathers of a starling bird.
I believe I petted the dog and that, after a while, the dog began to feel comfortable around me and to respond to me.
Dream #2
I was at "my step-grandmother's house." I had apparently either come to live with my step-grandmother or to spend a few days with her. It was night. We were in some room kind of like a living room mixed with a study. The light in the room was dim -- maybe just one lamp for the whole room.
My step-grandmother had been telling me all the preparations she'd been making for my arrival here. As she told me this stuff, she sat in a high-backed, cushioned chair, while I sat down at her knee, on some comfortable, cushioned stool.
My grandma told me something about how she'd made similar preparations for someone who'd come to live here before me. The person seemed to be alternately a man and a woman -- or perhaps there had been a man and then a woman in succession. I believe that when my grandma spoke about the woman, she seemed to mention the woman as if she were very fashionable, as if my grandma always had to think of how to be "fashionable enough" for her guest.
But when my grandma mentioned the man, she mostly liked to draw attention to his quirks. For instance, my grandma mentioned an "unfortunate" collection the man had left of fashion magazines. These magazines smelled like perfume. My grandma hadn't even known the man had had such a huge stack of fashion magazines. And my grandma hoped that I wouldn't mind them being in the room I'd be using. My grandma would soon be throwing these magazines away.
When I heard about the magazines, I kind of wanted to tell my grandma that she shouldn't throw them away. I loved fashion magazines, and I wanted to see the ones the boy had left.
I had now stood up and paced out across the room and back. As I did, my clothing changed from normal boys' clothing to a tight, short, purple t-shirt and a purple Pampers Underjams diaper.
My grandma was discussing difficulties she'd had in getting the place prepared for me personally. She seemed to be at the end of the list once I'd gotten back to her. But now she said, "And, here. See? Let me see here. What are you wearing under this shirt?"
My grandma lifted up my shirt. She said, "Ah. Just what I suspected. Diapers."
My grandma stood up and paced to the opposite side of the room. I followed her. I now noticed that the opposite wall of the room was of stone, with a fireplace set into the stone, and a little platform in front of the fireplace.
My grandma said, "I was thinking of setting you up with a girlfriend while you were here. But I didn't, because I knew you were going to be wearing diapers. I just didn't know, if you were wearing diapers, if you'd want to be spending any time with a pretty girl as well."
I was sad that my grandma hadn't set me up with the girl. I thought that maybe I shouldn't have worn diapers here after all.
Dream #3
I walked through the doorway of some kind of stone- or cinder-wall barrier. A pretty, skinny, tall, blonde woman had been walking with me. But she stopped walking and stood just inside the doorway, on the right (our right) side of the doorway.
It was a clear, hot, sunny day. I was walking along a wide concrete path. Off to my right were pools of water. They were square-shaped, divided from each other by concrete walls. The water in each pool looked a little different. The shapes of the floors of the pools was also different. Some pools were just even cubes. Others had steps or tiers in them. Some may actually have extended out a lot farther than the others.
Some of the pools had flowing water, and some of the pools had still water. The water in all the pools seemed to be clean -- I think the one thing the water had in common was a slight greenish tint (which I think I've always associated with chlorinated water). I think there were supposed to be living creatures in at least some of the pools. But I don't think I ever saw any creatures.
After walking a very short distance, I suddenly crouched down and called my boss' phone. I was crouching down on some kind of basalt outcropping that seemed to jut over a larger body of water than any of the pools. I didn't reach my boss. I decided to leave a voice message for him. But I kept talking and talking so much that the time limit ran out on the voice message.
I hung up my phone. I figured I'd said enough to my boss. I stood up and started walking along the pools again.
But now I realized I hadn't said enough to my boss. In fact, there were key points I'd left out of my voice message. So I called my boss up again and crouched down beside a pool. I got voicemail and talked and talked until the voice message time limit ran out. I then hung up the phone and stood up again.
I was now walking on a concrete sidewalk, up a slight slope, on a street with tall skyscrapers. I knew I was heading into my office. I knew I had been away on some kind of a business trip for a long time. It was like I was a salesman and I had been out selling.
I could see the image of a comic strip clearly in my head. It was black and white, in a straight-edged, 1950s style of line drawing. In the first frame there was a man in a suit and a fedora, walking in the sunlight. The man said something like, "It's good to get back home, to see how the people (down stairs?) are doing. You get back in touch with what's actually happening in the company." In the second frame, the man was heading into a building very much like the building I was heading into.
I now headed into the building and downstairs. Downstairs was a cafeteria. Apparently the first thing I was going to do was grab some lunch. Everything seemed to be sterile and white in the cafeteria. The cafeteria had a Mexican food theme to it -- all the time, I think.
I headed to a steel-countered service area at the back end of the cafeteria. I was really looking for a burrito. The cafeteria was selling one main item that day. But I can't remember what it was. Maybe tacos? I may have grabbed a main item. But I didn't really want it, and I went looking along the counter for something else. It looked like, behind a glass window, they were also serving little single enchiladas and single tamales (the tamales actually looked like tiny burritos) in little, plastic dessert bowls.
A tallish, white man with long, brown hair in a ponytail and wearing a white food service apron came up behind the counter. He asked me if I would like him to get me anything. I asked the man if he had any burritos. The man said, "Oh, no, we aren't doing those today. But we have a lot of other really good stuff."
I now seemed so small that my head barely rose above the steel counter that had previously been waist-height. I looked up over the glass wall at the man and, in a kind of acquiescent way, asked for one of the food items I'd seen in one of the plastic dessert bowls. The man handed it to me.
It seemed like the man understood that he was now done serving me. I figured I'd better just take that as a cue that I shouldn't bother the man anymore by asking him to serve me anymore. But I realized that when I'd asked the man for the item I'd wanted, I'd asked for the wrong item. I'd wanted a tamale and an enchilada. But instead, I'd asked for a ----- (I don't know).
I was now back at the pools. I had walked a little way farther along the pools. But now I remembered that I needed to finish up the details I'd given to my boss. There were a few final things he needed to know. So I crouched down again beside a pool. I called the number and waited for the voicemail to turn on. I looked into the pool I crouched over, maybe even sticking my hand into the pool, in hopes of finding some of the animals I'd thought were here.
Dream #4
I was in a dark hallway in a hospital. I opened a door. My dad was in this room, laying in a hospital bed. The room seemed pretty dim, at least at first: like the room was only lit by a wall-mounted x-ray film illumination screen.
My dad was laying on his left side. He'd been through some kind of really tough situation, and he was only now arriving at a point of recovery. My little brother had also been in this hospital. But he'd recently died, only the night before, or possibly even this morning.
My dad now asked me about my brother. I was kind of surprised nobody had told my dad about my brother. My sister was here, too, like I was -- seeing to my brother and dad. And my sister had seen my dad on a number of occasions during the night and morning, after my brother had died. I had a feeling that my dad should have been told about my brother a lot earlier, and that he'd be a little annoyed when he found out he hadn't been told until so long afterwards.
But I looked at my dad. He looked so weak: pale, dried out, with his hair gone a brittle color of silvery-grey. I thought that the news of my brother's death would distress my dad so much that my dad might relapse into his illness, or even die himself. So I hesitated in telling my dad about my brother. Instead, I told him something like I didn't know exactly what was going on, but that I would tell him the news as soon as I could.
I closed the door and walked out into a lit, moderately busy, hospital hallway. I was trying to figure out who I should ask in order to know for sure whether it was or wasn't okay to tell my dad about my brother. I probably settled on discussing the matter with my sister. But I may also have had the vague, foggy images (as possibilities) in my mind's eye of my mother and of some nurse -- the nurse wearing a very fetish-style nurse costume.
After a while I managed to meet up in the hospital with my sister and mother. But after talking with my sister and mother for a little bit, I realized that the only reason they hadn't told my dad anything about my brother's death was neglect. It wasn't that they wanted to spare my dad's feelings. They just, for some reason or another, neglected to tell my dad anything.
I was a little angry with my mother and sister for having been so neglectful. I may have expressed my anger. But I knew I had to hurry back to my dad and tell him about my brother as soon as I could. I knew there was a chance that my dad could die. And if my dad died before I told him that my brother had died, I could never forgive myself.
I walked into a hospital room. But the bed by the door was empty, the sheets still crumpled up on the bed, as if the person who had been occupying the bed had only recently been removed. I was certain that this meant my dad had died, and that his body had only recently been taken away. There was another bed in the room, which may have had somebody in it. There may also have been a medical staff person in the room with the person in the bed.
But somehow I came to understand that this room was actually not the room my dad had been in. A lot of the rooms looked an awful lot alike in this hospital. I was in a similar-looking room, but in a completely different area of the hospital. I needed to get to the right area of the hospital.
I knew the areas of the hospital were all divided into something like wards. But the wards were called something like "exhibits." The boundary for each exhibit had a plastic sign over it, like over a doorway or a threshold. I think the plastic sign could light up. On the sign were, in black, plastic, capital letters, the word "EXHIBIT" (?) and the exhibit letter.
I knew I needed to get to exhibit M. I knew that my dad's hospital room would be the corner room in a wall lined with rooms. I knew that once I found the correct room, I could just walk in and see my dad in his bed, right where I'd left him.
I walked through exhibits H, I, and J. Each successive exhibit I walked through looked less and less like a hospital and more and more like an old-style library. And the more I walked through these exhibits, the less welcome I felt. It was like I was heading into wealthier and wealthier areas. The people there wondered what I was doing there. They looked down on me and suspected me.
Finally I found exhibit M. I walked past the threshold and found myself in a big, nearly empty, wood-floored and wood-walled room. There were huge paintings on at least two of the walls: one of the side walls and the back wall. The paintings were landscapes or skyscapes. Each picture nearly took up the whole wall on which it was mounted.
I felt extremely unwanted in this exhibit. It seemed like the wealthiest exhibit I'd been to so far. There was a school group -- mostly high school boys -- standing near the back left corner of the room. Some of the boys were actually sitting on the edge of some long heavy marble- or wood-topped table.
At the back left corner of the room was a doorway. I knew I had to go through that doorway to find my dad. But that meant I'd have to go past the high school boys.
I assumed that the boys were all rich, since they were in exhibit M. They were all white, kind of pale-skinned. They wore clothes that were a little baggy and a little thuggy-looking. Some of them wore baseball caps tilted at weird angles. The boys' teacher was a tall, muscular, white man with a nice tan. He wore a nice shirt and slacks and thin-rimmed eyeglasses.
The boys all seemed cheerful enough with each other. But when I passed them I felt a definite change in mood. They all seemed to be focused, now, on how they could cause troubles for me. One of the boys threw a paper wad at me. Another boy actually threw a needle at me. The needle was intended to stick into me. But somehow I managed to spot its flight and catch it in a safe way.
The boys now all seemed to have forgotten about my existence. I was about to cross over the threshold into the next room. In fact, I think I crossed into the next room, which was another huge, empty, museum-like room. But it felt a bit dustier than the other room, and lit with much more harshly bright daylight.
But I quickly turned back toward the first room. Anger had built up in me. I realized that the boy who had thrown the needle at me had really meant to hurt me. What could have been on that needle? And yet the boy had completely ignored me after throwing it. I knew all the boys in the group were in on the needle-throwing. And I intended to make all of them feel some regret for what they'd done.
One boy stood on the threshold between the rooms. He may actually even have stood a little bit into the second room. His back was to me. So I stuck the needle as far into his back as I could. I thought I'd get a little bit of a reaction out of the boy. But he didn't even seem aware that I'd stuck the needle into his back.
I felt bad for sticking the needle into the boy's back. After all, what could have been on that needle? Did I just poison the boy? Did I just give him some kind of disease? Did I really need to be doing something like that to somebody, just because I was mad? I pulled the needle out of the boy's back.
But I was really angry that the boys still seemed not to be upset about having tried to hurt me. So I walked out in front of them all. Apparently the teacher had stepped away. Most of the boys were sitting on the edge of the long table.
I asked the boys if they had any idea that what they'd done to me was wrong. They hardly seemed to be registering my existence at all. So I flipped out on them. They didn't seem to move. I basically went down the line, doing something cruel to each boy. Each thing I did was a little bit different for each boy. I killed one of the boys, maybe even chopping off his head. But, for another boy -- the boy had something like orange juice and orange donuts. I spilled his juice all over the place and began smashing the donuts with the bottom of the cup.
As I was smashing the boy's donuts, the teacher came back into the room. I knew I was probably going to get in a lot of trouble for what I'd done to all the boys. I thought I would explain myself, but I don't know if I ever got started explaining myself. I seemed to be pretty intent on smashing the donuts into paste. I thought that if I could explain myself, I'd possibly get off free. But then I thought that couldn't be possible, considering that I'd killed at least one of the boys.
Dream #5
I was walking up a steep slope with an older man and a younger woman. It was a bright, sunny day. But the sky may have been yellow, rather than blue. We were walking up a sidewalk. But we may have been in a partially forest-like area. The whole environment may also have had some kind of cartoony feel to it, too.
The older man was in the lead. I followed the man, and the woman followed me. The older man was like some established, wealthy business man. He was taking us up to something business related, I believe, at the top of the hill. There may have been some tall, skyscraper-like building up there.
The younger woman had light brown skin. She wore something like a black corset with pink decorations on it. She may also have been wearing pink, feathery wings. Her hair was dyed pink, at least near the roots. The woman had been walking behind me for a ways. Then she walked beside me. I think while she was walking beside me, she'd been expecting me to make some sort of move on her, or at least show some sort of sexual interest in her. I was interested in her. But I was really shy.
According to the older man, this walk was supposed to be a really rigorous walk, and our attainment of the crest was supposed to be a symbol of how, if we put a really strong effort into it, we could achieve anything. Only people who could get to the top of the hill could go into the building at the top of the hill.
But I realized I wasn't walking too fast or trying too hard at all. I was staying a few meters behind the man, keeping pace with him. I even pumped my legs a little bit harder than needed, just so I could feel like I was making the effort the man had said we'd be making.
The woman must have felt the same as I did, because she now moved up ahead of me. As we neared the crest of the hill, the woman even moved up ahead of the man. I was shocked that the woman had gotten into the lead. I was a little ashamed of myself for not having taken the lead myself. And I was envious of the woman.
The woman, who was still attracted to me, sensed my envy. We were all turning to head back down the slope, as if we were now doing something like laps up and down the slope. As we crossed paths, the woman said something to me like, "We all take turns at the front. Whoever's in the back has to run up to the front, right? So now you're in the back. It'll be your turn to run up to the front next."
I kind of had the feeling that the woman was saying this only to soothe my envy. But I thought that, if she was right, I was well-positioned for running up to the front. We were heading downhill. So it would be easy for me to get up my speed.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
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.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
lost astronauts; suits and books; talent show father
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was falling through the atmosphere of a planet or moon. I may have thought of it as our moon. I was probably in a spaceship with a few other people, possibly family members, or maybe friends. I was definitely talking with other people. But I also felt like my body itself was actually falling through the atmosphere.
The atmosphere of the planet was a kind of pale red. The land below seemed to be rather desert, and of a whitish color, tinged in places with a pale orange red. There were clouds here and there, and the overall feeling of the atmosphere was rather hazy.
We had come here under the assumption that we were the first people on this planet. But now, as we descended, I saw another craft lifting off from the planet. It looked like an old rocket. But it was lifting off with the entire launch frame still attached to it!
I shouted out to my companions that another ship had gotten here first. This seemed like really bad news. I had the feeling this was a Russian spaceship. But now I was starting to question the time period I was in. Based on the looks of the ship, I now felt like perhaps we were in the 1960s or 1970s. It seemed odd that we were exploring other planets on such a scale at that early a time.
We reached the surface of the planet. At this point my view felt like my body itself was flying along just above the surface of the planet. Other people, some of them children, probably all of them "my family members," were around me, sitting about or walking about at a leisurely pace. Yet we were all involved in some kind of scientific project.
I still felt like we were on the moon, or on some other planet. But now I also had the feeling that we were actually on earth, following some kind of nuclear war. I may have felt that my group had something to do with either preventing the attack or retaliating against the attackers. But I felt like we'd been too late. I also felt like my group had to get out of here pretty soon. The radiation was too strong for us to stay here for so long.
Dream #2
I was in some situation where I was around a few other people who thought they were dressed up. But their clothes were kind of old and tattered. I was dressed the same way. But then at some point I was dressed in really nice clothes. I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. I didn't want people to think badly of me because I was dressed nicely.
I was then in a classroom. There were probably two other people in the classroom with me: an older man and a younger woman. It may have been night. The classroom may have been lit with fluorescent light. I was sitting at a desk. The man and woman may have been walking around. They seemed to be focused on me for some reason.
I had two books. I wasn't really reading either one. I was having trouble deciding between which book to read. So I'd go back and forth, not really accomplishing anything in either book.
One of the books had a Philip K. Dick kind of attitude, but it was a bit more literary, more surreal, and less science fictiony. It had a cover like the big paperback versions of the Bollingen edition of Jung's works, with the white cover, black lettering, and thin-lined, broad, colored lettering. The other book was a hardcover book, bound like a standard edition of the classics. It was some kind of Dickensian style novel.
I may then have gone back to whatever situation I'd been in before, where my dress was the same as, then much better than, the dress of the people around me.
Dream #3
There was some talent show in an Asian country, possibly Malaysia. There were a number of kids getting ready for the talent show. But a few of the kids had gotten distracted from the show by the drama of their own personal lives.
At one point some little boy had gone missing. A little girl had gone out at night to look for the boy. The little girl walked through the business area of the small town she lived in. The business area was an interesting mix of modern roads, modern lighting, and kind of old, wooden buildings. The buildings almost reminded me of the Old West in the United States.
The little girl was walking along a gutter. She passed a little outfit that looked like a little bumblebee costume a girl might wear. But it was pink and black, instead of being yellow and black. The costume even had gauzy, pink wings. But it just lay on the ground, like some kind of shed shell.
The little girl may have taken the empty costume to mean that the other little girl (instead of a little boy?) she had been looking for had given up on the talent show. But she also took it to mean that the other little girl had actually gone back, or tried to go back, to the talent show to do something really good. The girl still may have felt she had to find the other girl, so she could help her find her way back.
But now a couple of girls, more like teenagers than little girls, had come back to their house. They were of a somewhat wealthy family in the town. They needed their father to come to the talent show for some reason. But the father was a little cold-hearted, and he was refusing to go to the talent show.
The teenage girls were now trying to get the father to open up his heart. The father had some emotional issues to deal with. If he didn't deal with them, he'd possibly mess everything up for the talent show.
The father was now standing in a big room on his estate. The room was as big as a cafeteria in a small school. It had red tile floors and white, stucco-like walls. It was completely empty of furniture.
The father was facing my view (as if my view were a camera), speaking to somebody outside my field of view. The father had dark, coppery skin, a broad, slightly wrinkled and baggy face, and wide, dark eyes. He had short, feathery hair, black and grey. He had a little bit of a belly, and he wore a darkish blue robe with faint, black stripes running down it.
The father was telling the person outside my field of view, "I don't have any problems. I'm completely fine." This was bad news. If he didn't admit his problems soon, the talent show would be ruined.
But now a group of people were introduced into the room, possibly by two other daughters or possibly by the two daughters who'd first come for the father. The group of people were attendants and family of another older man. This man was very important to the father's life. He may have been important for business reasons. But he may also have been something like the father's father-in-law.
Seeing to this person took precedence over everything else. The father called to his servants. There was a door on the right side of the room the father stood in. The people had probably come in through a door on the left side of the room.
The father had servants open the right door, which was thick and heavy, made of dark wood. I knew that beyond the door was another large room, this room also looking a bit like a cafeteria or restaurant. The front end of the room was the living area, although it was a lot like a seating area for a restaurant. The back area of the room, just a narrow part of the room, was lit by a huge overhead window. It was just large enought to accommodate a long, narrow, table of thick, heavy wood.
The father, still in the first room, called to the servants first to arrange for the bed linens for the guest. The father commanded the servants to have two or three changes of bed linens. This was very important.
The father then commanded the servants to have coffee prepared for the guest every morning, as soon as the guest woke. The father then commanded the servants always to be on call in the kitchen for the guest. The guest may have had his own kitchen, which was attached to the second room.
The second kitchen was to be stocked from the first kitchen with a little bit of every kind of food the guest could want. And the servants were, every morning, gently to insinuate to the guest that he might do well to eat. They might make suggestions to the guest as to what kind of food would be good for him. But this was only to gague whether the guest wanted to eat. As soon as the guest was ready to eat, though, the servants were to make for him whatever he wanted.
Dream #1
I was falling through the atmosphere of a planet or moon. I may have thought of it as our moon. I was probably in a spaceship with a few other people, possibly family members, or maybe friends. I was definitely talking with other people. But I also felt like my body itself was actually falling through the atmosphere.
The atmosphere of the planet was a kind of pale red. The land below seemed to be rather desert, and of a whitish color, tinged in places with a pale orange red. There were clouds here and there, and the overall feeling of the atmosphere was rather hazy.
We had come here under the assumption that we were the first people on this planet. But now, as we descended, I saw another craft lifting off from the planet. It looked like an old rocket. But it was lifting off with the entire launch frame still attached to it!
I shouted out to my companions that another ship had gotten here first. This seemed like really bad news. I had the feeling this was a Russian spaceship. But now I was starting to question the time period I was in. Based on the looks of the ship, I now felt like perhaps we were in the 1960s or 1970s. It seemed odd that we were exploring other planets on such a scale at that early a time.
We reached the surface of the planet. At this point my view felt like my body itself was flying along just above the surface of the planet. Other people, some of them children, probably all of them "my family members," were around me, sitting about or walking about at a leisurely pace. Yet we were all involved in some kind of scientific project.
I still felt like we were on the moon, or on some other planet. But now I also had the feeling that we were actually on earth, following some kind of nuclear war. I may have felt that my group had something to do with either preventing the attack or retaliating against the attackers. But I felt like we'd been too late. I also felt like my group had to get out of here pretty soon. The radiation was too strong for us to stay here for so long.
Dream #2
I was in some situation where I was around a few other people who thought they were dressed up. But their clothes were kind of old and tattered. I was dressed the same way. But then at some point I was dressed in really nice clothes. I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. I didn't want people to think badly of me because I was dressed nicely.
I was then in a classroom. There were probably two other people in the classroom with me: an older man and a younger woman. It may have been night. The classroom may have been lit with fluorescent light. I was sitting at a desk. The man and woman may have been walking around. They seemed to be focused on me for some reason.
I had two books. I wasn't really reading either one. I was having trouble deciding between which book to read. So I'd go back and forth, not really accomplishing anything in either book.
One of the books had a Philip K. Dick kind of attitude, but it was a bit more literary, more surreal, and less science fictiony. It had a cover like the big paperback versions of the Bollingen edition of Jung's works, with the white cover, black lettering, and thin-lined, broad, colored lettering. The other book was a hardcover book, bound like a standard edition of the classics. It was some kind of Dickensian style novel.
I may then have gone back to whatever situation I'd been in before, where my dress was the same as, then much better than, the dress of the people around me.
Dream #3
There was some talent show in an Asian country, possibly Malaysia. There were a number of kids getting ready for the talent show. But a few of the kids had gotten distracted from the show by the drama of their own personal lives.
At one point some little boy had gone missing. A little girl had gone out at night to look for the boy. The little girl walked through the business area of the small town she lived in. The business area was an interesting mix of modern roads, modern lighting, and kind of old, wooden buildings. The buildings almost reminded me of the Old West in the United States.
The little girl was walking along a gutter. She passed a little outfit that looked like a little bumblebee costume a girl might wear. But it was pink and black, instead of being yellow and black. The costume even had gauzy, pink wings. But it just lay on the ground, like some kind of shed shell.
The little girl may have taken the empty costume to mean that the other little girl (instead of a little boy?) she had been looking for had given up on the talent show. But she also took it to mean that the other little girl had actually gone back, or tried to go back, to the talent show to do something really good. The girl still may have felt she had to find the other girl, so she could help her find her way back.
But now a couple of girls, more like teenagers than little girls, had come back to their house. They were of a somewhat wealthy family in the town. They needed their father to come to the talent show for some reason. But the father was a little cold-hearted, and he was refusing to go to the talent show.
The teenage girls were now trying to get the father to open up his heart. The father had some emotional issues to deal with. If he didn't deal with them, he'd possibly mess everything up for the talent show.
The father was now standing in a big room on his estate. The room was as big as a cafeteria in a small school. It had red tile floors and white, stucco-like walls. It was completely empty of furniture.
The father was facing my view (as if my view were a camera), speaking to somebody outside my field of view. The father had dark, coppery skin, a broad, slightly wrinkled and baggy face, and wide, dark eyes. He had short, feathery hair, black and grey. He had a little bit of a belly, and he wore a darkish blue robe with faint, black stripes running down it.
The father was telling the person outside my field of view, "I don't have any problems. I'm completely fine." This was bad news. If he didn't admit his problems soon, the talent show would be ruined.
But now a group of people were introduced into the room, possibly by two other daughters or possibly by the two daughters who'd first come for the father. The group of people were attendants and family of another older man. This man was very important to the father's life. He may have been important for business reasons. But he may also have been something like the father's father-in-law.
Seeing to this person took precedence over everything else. The father called to his servants. There was a door on the right side of the room the father stood in. The people had probably come in through a door on the left side of the room.
The father had servants open the right door, which was thick and heavy, made of dark wood. I knew that beyond the door was another large room, this room also looking a bit like a cafeteria or restaurant. The front end of the room was the living area, although it was a lot like a seating area for a restaurant. The back area of the room, just a narrow part of the room, was lit by a huge overhead window. It was just large enought to accommodate a long, narrow, table of thick, heavy wood.
The father, still in the first room, called to the servants first to arrange for the bed linens for the guest. The father commanded the servants to have two or three changes of bed linens. This was very important.
The father then commanded the servants to have coffee prepared for the guest every morning, as soon as the guest woke. The father then commanded the servants always to be on call in the kitchen for the guest. The guest may have had his own kitchen, which was attached to the second room.
The second kitchen was to be stocked from the first kitchen with a little bit of every kind of food the guest could want. And the servants were, every morning, gently to insinuate to the guest that he might do well to eat. They might make suggestions to the guest as to what kind of food would be good for him. But this was only to gague whether the guest wanted to eat. As soon as the guest was ready to eat, though, the servants were to make for him whatever he wanted.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
dad in surgery; nephew reading menu; singing and dogs barking; acquaintance's voicemail
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was sitting on a bed in a hospital room. My dad was laying on the bed. I had my phone on the bed and the headphones in my ears.
I was talking to my dad. But at the same time, I was walking backwards away from him. The hospital room was large. It took me a long time to move backwards all the way to the door.
I stood right on the threshold of the door. I now saw a stereotypical "sexy nurse" standing in the room with my dad. It suddenly occurred to me that my dad was going in for surgery. I had a feeling it was a pretty critical surgery.
My dad had been given some sort of tranquilizer pill. It was already making him groggy, making him talk weird. My dad saw me leaving the room and kept saying, "Goodbye, Charlie," as if I were some guy named Charlie he'd known from his past. I took this to mean that not only was my dad groggy from the medicine he was taking, but that the disease he was in the hospital for was badly affecting his mind.
I probably thought that it was possible that my dad could die very soon. I also probably started feeling bad for not having spent enough time with him, and not having let him know that I cared about him.
Dream #2
I was in my family's kitchen. It was daytime, and greyish-white light shone in through the windows. My third oldest nephew stood at the edge of the kitchen counter, reading a big, white, paper card. My nephew held up the menu at a slant by leaning it up against my mom's laptop computer, which stood open on the kitchen counter.
I looked at the card. Apparently it was a menu. The menu was probbably at least partly written out. But everything in the menu was so divided that it looked like a depiction of a TV dinner. And there did seem even to be drawings of TV-dinner-like food.
My nephew took the menu and walked away from me, up the kitchen, and toward my mom, who was standing by the sink.
Dream #3
I had walked into a backyard. It was night, but there seemed to be yard lights on everywhere. The sky was the only thing that seemed really dark.
I was sat down on the lawn. The grass was tall, thick, and green -- maybe even a little dewy. I may have had my headphones in my ears. I was singing a song.
A dog in an adjacent backyard started barking at me, as if my singing had annoyed it, or as if my singing had alerted it to my presence, and it had just decided to bark to intimidate or annoy me.
The dog did surprise me, and I did stop singing. I looked up to see where the dog was. It was in the yard at the corner of this yard.
I suddenly got mad that that the dog had barked at me. I wasn't going to take it. I started singing again, but the dog started barking again. So now I stood up and yelled at the dog in the loudest voice I could, "Stop your bullshit! I'm sick of it! I'm not going to take it anymore!"
I could see that in the yard directly back of this yard, behind a tall fence, there was another dog, behind a tall fence. This dog had been running up to the fence to bark at me, too. But I now went crazy, yelling at both of the dogs. I had the idea that I was going to jump back into the yards and fight the dogs.
The dogs seemed to have stopped barking. But I had pretty much gotten distracted from singing. There was a tall, wooden-slatted fence inside the yard I was in. It seemed to enclose some special-purpose area just behind the house. For some reason, I flew up and landed on the top of that fence. I stood balancing on the fence, keeping a lookout for something.
My sister walked into the backyard. She looked a bit younger, like she was in her late teens. She was kind of skinny. She wore a long, baggy, green hooded sweatshirt. She had long, blondish hair and was wearing black mascara.
My sister said hi to me. She may have asked me how I was doing. She may have been really concerned about me for some reason. I may have tried to ease her mind by saying something not relating to what I'd just been through. But I said, "Yeah, I'm just standing up here to keep an eye out for strange people. This one strange guy has been following me home on the bus lately, I think."
Dream #4
I was sitting on a couch in a living room, probably with my mom. It was probably night. The living room was lit with slightly dim, incandescent light. I couldn't see much of the living room. Most of my view was taken up by a mountain of clutter that stood on a coffee table in front of the couch.
I knelt down on the floor and grabbed my cell phone off the coffee table. I probably put the right headphone in my ear. I'd decided to call a female acquaintance of mine, a really good friend of my old friend R. I had this woman's number in my phone.
The woman's voicemail picked up. There were some strange sounds at first, as if the phone had actually been picked up by some living person, but the person had just not realized they'd picked up the phone. I heard a number of women talking. Then, finally, one of the women came to the phone and started leaving a voicemail greeting.
The woman said this phone was the phone for the house of herself and two other women, who would take any messages anybody left for them.
But my acquaintance was the fourth woman in the house. The woman on the voicemail greeting said that my acquaintance was not taking any messages, especially from me. The voicemail woman said that I'd either done something really crazy to my acquaintance or that I'd acted so interested in the woman that she now feared I was stalking her. So she was not going to take any messages from me.
I think I hung up the phone, upset that I couldn't leave a message. But I picked up the phone again and either dialed the same number or a different number that also belonged to my acquaintance. I knew there had to be a way for me to get in touch with this woman.
I now got a different voicemail. This time, my acquaintance was speaking. But it was almost like she was leaving a voicemail greeting just for me -- like the voicemail greeting was a message she'd left on my personal voicemail.
My acquaintance sounded really panicked. She said that she needed my help really bad. My friend R had her in a compromising position, and he was also putting her in physical danger.
Dream #1
I was sitting on a bed in a hospital room. My dad was laying on the bed. I had my phone on the bed and the headphones in my ears.
I was talking to my dad. But at the same time, I was walking backwards away from him. The hospital room was large. It took me a long time to move backwards all the way to the door.
I stood right on the threshold of the door. I now saw a stereotypical "sexy nurse" standing in the room with my dad. It suddenly occurred to me that my dad was going in for surgery. I had a feeling it was a pretty critical surgery.
My dad had been given some sort of tranquilizer pill. It was already making him groggy, making him talk weird. My dad saw me leaving the room and kept saying, "Goodbye, Charlie," as if I were some guy named Charlie he'd known from his past. I took this to mean that not only was my dad groggy from the medicine he was taking, but that the disease he was in the hospital for was badly affecting his mind.
I probably thought that it was possible that my dad could die very soon. I also probably started feeling bad for not having spent enough time with him, and not having let him know that I cared about him.
Dream #2
I was in my family's kitchen. It was daytime, and greyish-white light shone in through the windows. My third oldest nephew stood at the edge of the kitchen counter, reading a big, white, paper card. My nephew held up the menu at a slant by leaning it up against my mom's laptop computer, which stood open on the kitchen counter.
I looked at the card. Apparently it was a menu. The menu was probbably at least partly written out. But everything in the menu was so divided that it looked like a depiction of a TV dinner. And there did seem even to be drawings of TV-dinner-like food.
My nephew took the menu and walked away from me, up the kitchen, and toward my mom, who was standing by the sink.
Dream #3
I had walked into a backyard. It was night, but there seemed to be yard lights on everywhere. The sky was the only thing that seemed really dark.
I was sat down on the lawn. The grass was tall, thick, and green -- maybe even a little dewy. I may have had my headphones in my ears. I was singing a song.
A dog in an adjacent backyard started barking at me, as if my singing had annoyed it, or as if my singing had alerted it to my presence, and it had just decided to bark to intimidate or annoy me.
The dog did surprise me, and I did stop singing. I looked up to see where the dog was. It was in the yard at the corner of this yard.
I suddenly got mad that that the dog had barked at me. I wasn't going to take it. I started singing again, but the dog started barking again. So now I stood up and yelled at the dog in the loudest voice I could, "Stop your bullshit! I'm sick of it! I'm not going to take it anymore!"
I could see that in the yard directly back of this yard, behind a tall fence, there was another dog, behind a tall fence. This dog had been running up to the fence to bark at me, too. But I now went crazy, yelling at both of the dogs. I had the idea that I was going to jump back into the yards and fight the dogs.
The dogs seemed to have stopped barking. But I had pretty much gotten distracted from singing. There was a tall, wooden-slatted fence inside the yard I was in. It seemed to enclose some special-purpose area just behind the house. For some reason, I flew up and landed on the top of that fence. I stood balancing on the fence, keeping a lookout for something.
My sister walked into the backyard. She looked a bit younger, like she was in her late teens. She was kind of skinny. She wore a long, baggy, green hooded sweatshirt. She had long, blondish hair and was wearing black mascara.
My sister said hi to me. She may have asked me how I was doing. She may have been really concerned about me for some reason. I may have tried to ease her mind by saying something not relating to what I'd just been through. But I said, "Yeah, I'm just standing up here to keep an eye out for strange people. This one strange guy has been following me home on the bus lately, I think."
Dream #4
I was sitting on a couch in a living room, probably with my mom. It was probably night. The living room was lit with slightly dim, incandescent light. I couldn't see much of the living room. Most of my view was taken up by a mountain of clutter that stood on a coffee table in front of the couch.
I knelt down on the floor and grabbed my cell phone off the coffee table. I probably put the right headphone in my ear. I'd decided to call a female acquaintance of mine, a really good friend of my old friend R. I had this woman's number in my phone.
The woman's voicemail picked up. There were some strange sounds at first, as if the phone had actually been picked up by some living person, but the person had just not realized they'd picked up the phone. I heard a number of women talking. Then, finally, one of the women came to the phone and started leaving a voicemail greeting.
The woman said this phone was the phone for the house of herself and two other women, who would take any messages anybody left for them.
But my acquaintance was the fourth woman in the house. The woman on the voicemail greeting said that my acquaintance was not taking any messages, especially from me. The voicemail woman said that I'd either done something really crazy to my acquaintance or that I'd acted so interested in the woman that she now feared I was stalking her. So she was not going to take any messages from me.
I think I hung up the phone, upset that I couldn't leave a message. But I picked up the phone again and either dialed the same number or a different number that also belonged to my acquaintance. I knew there had to be a way for me to get in touch with this woman.
I now got a different voicemail. This time, my acquaintance was speaking. But it was almost like she was leaving a voicemail greeting just for me -- like the voicemail greeting was a message she'd left on my personal voicemail.
My acquaintance sounded really panicked. She said that she needed my help really bad. My friend R had her in a compromising position, and he was also putting her in physical danger.
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