process drawback informative

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a hospital. I was in a room like a general practitioner's visiting room, except bigger and a little emptier. The room was probably supposed to be something like a waiting room. I was sitting either on the floor or on a chair very low to the floor.

My mom may just have had some operation, maybe on her heart. I'm pretty sure she was out of the operation, even awake. But she was in some other room. She could only take visitors periodically. This probably had to do with her recovery, like while we weren't allowed to visit her, she was going through some recovery process as dangerous as surgery, through which she may not survive.

My aunt was in the room with me. She held some device, kind of like a cell phone, which allowed her to do something like hear into my mom's room, but not exactly. My aunt was acting concerned for my mom, but then she started acting really strange. I had the feeling she'd get violent about my mom. I didn't want her to be around my mom. But then she was gone. I may have seen her leave through the cluttered area of a dim hospital hallway.

I was back in the room, which was now somehow like a narrow laboratory or kitchen. There were no lights on in the room. The room was illuminated dim blue, like from an early morning sky, except that there were probably no windows in the room.

I received a phone call, maybe on a wall phone, from one of the doctors. He was explaining something to me about the operation a second doctor, maybe named Eric, had done on my mom.

The doctor, who had a kind of Asian accent, said he understood if I was a little concerned about the operation that had been done on my mom. As the doctor explained, I was stirring the dregs of something like hot chocolate in a huge, plastic canister, with something like a wooden spoon.

The doctor explained that the operation was some kind of new technique, a "Japanese" technique. The new techniques were all being performed on patients who couldn't afford regular doctors. The techniques were uncertain, so it was understood that I'd be a little annoyed that my mother had had to go through the new procedure.

I was now going in to visit my mom. I crossed the hallway from my room to my mom's room. The hallway may have been cluttered with workers, all pushing around tall carts like meal-tray carts, except that the carts may have had sheets in them.

My mom's room door was open. I was a little shocked to see that there were a couple carts in my mom's room as well. It was like the workers, maybe even the doctors, were using my mom's room as a storage area, with no regard for her status as a recovering patient.

I peered my way around the carts cluttering my mom's bed. I saw my mom. Apparently, now, this was the first time I'd seen my mom since her operation. She wasn't hooked up to any tubes. But she looked really weak, and I thought she was near death.

My mom lolled her head over to look at me. She then sat up. I noticed how my mom's hair had been cut, so that now it was maybe only 20cm long. I thought my mom would be upset to know the doctors had done that to her, even though I knew the doctors had had no choice: they'd had to cut my mom's hair to put brain-monitors on her skull.

My mom now told me how she was upset about something. She virtually hopped off the bed and onto the floor. I winced. My mom had just had her chest cracked open for a heart surgery. Jostling herself around like that would really injure her wound.

My mom reached up onto some shelf (?) over the counter of a table. She pulled down some kind of signature form. She told me that she was really angry at the doctors, and that she was thinking of suing them.

Before the surgery the doctors had made my mom sign this form. Now my mom had read the back of the form, which had something on it called a "process drawback informative." This meant, my mom said, that the doctors were basically given permission, after the first surgery, to conduct more procedures or to determine other elements of the patient's recovery, regardless of the patient's wishes.

my new late friend; i don't paintbal enough

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a hospital, probably with a friend. We stood in. A hallway, before a hospital bed in which was a female friend or acquaintance of my friend. The woman was really sick. She may have had to go in for some treatment. We may have been seeing her off.

My friend and I also had somewhere to go in the hospital. We went there. We may have sat down for a moment in a bar-like area. My friend may have had to go somewhere else within the hospital.

I may have heard something about the woman. I felt like I needed to get back to her. I went back to the hallway. The woman was being cared for in the hallway like it was a hospital room. And she had a young nurse in scrubs constantly attending to her, standing near her right shoulder.

I noticed that the woman was really ravaged by her disease. The blanket had come away and exposed her legs. The woman's legs were extremely thin, even thinner than I'd have assumed her bones would be, and there were brownish-purple spots where, it seemed, the woman's flesh had decayed away.

But the woman was pretty. She was tan, with dark black hair. Her face looked a little chubby at first. But after I'd looked away and looked back to her face, her face was thinner, kind of like a supermodel's face. Her face looked healthy, even though the rest of her body seemed ravaged.

The nurse, or somebody, may have told me that the woman had to go. She was being taken in for another procedure, possibly something like chemotherapy. She was going to being taken into a room right near where she'd been laying in the hallway.

I was reluctant to see the woman go. I'd formed a bond with her somehow, in just these few minutes of being with her. I didn't want her to go into the procedure, go through a lot of pain, and maybe even die, without her knowing that I cared for her.

My friend may have been standing at the woman's left shoulder. At this point my friend may have looked like my old boss and constant mentor EB. With the nurse and man by the woman and some kind of stuff cluttered around the woman on her bed, it was now really hard for me to see the woman's face.

My friend may have told me to come closer to the woman's face. I did so. I may have spoken and smiled with the woman a little. I may have wanted to give the woman a kiss goodbye.

Dream #2

I was in some cafeteria in a basement. The cafeteria was filled with people sitting at long tables. But the space was small, with low ceilings, and kind of dim.

I sat at a table. Some of my co-workers, in particular DK, sat around me. DK sat directly across from me. Then my co-worker MS and some other person, maybe CP, came up.

MS sat right beside me. His plate was heaped full of food -- stuff like mashed potatoes and corn. I contrasted it with my own plate -- either nothing or very little food. I hadn't taken much food. I didn't think my stomach could handle it.

For some reason MS scared DK, as if MS were a tough kid in high school and DK were one of the smarter, calmer kids. I was a little unbalanced by these feelings, and it made me a little tense around MS and the other person as well. I was hoping to calm things down, if I could. But I don't think I knew how.

Now DK was gone. His space was just empty. MS now moved, under the table, into DK's space. Once seated there he managed -- somehow! -- to reach back under the table and pull his plate of food over with him.

I knew MS had moved, at least partly, because he didn't want to sit by me. Even though he liked me, he found me boring, almost awkwardly quiet. He would never say so to me, but that's how it was. And now he could sit next to his friend and talk with him.

I now stood before a counter either like a bar or a hotel concierge's desk. I had been turned away from it at first, talking with a couple people, probably about something business-related. Now I turned to face the desk.

There was something on the desk, like brochures or magazines, maybe for resorts or vacations. In some photos on the papers was a really beautiful, almost 1940s-style, but very contemporary, woman, engaged in a fun, but extremely competitive, game of paintball.

There may have been a woman working behind the desk. She may have been pretty, pale, kind of young looking, red-haired, a little chubby or chubby-faced. She may have criticized me, telling me I didn't have enough to do with something like the paintball games, like I was emotionally incomplete because of that.

mom's hospital arrangements

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was at a hospital or nursing home or rehab center to visit my mother. I may have been there with some other family members. My mom was probably getting moved to some other section of the place. She may have been in the middle of the move, so we couldn't see her.

I went out of the building I'd been in, which was the building my mother had originally been staying in, to find out where my mother would go next. I may have heard, or even received a paper saying, that some other building had information on where my mom would be next.

The outside area was a big, sunny, but kind of dry lawn. There were a few small buildings dotting the edges of the lawn. A lot of people seemed to be out here.

I was reading that there were four different buildings. Each building had something to do with a nationality -- either they spoke that language or helped people from that region or something. The four buildings were Chinese, Japanese, North Korean, and South Korean.

I knew there were language differences between each building. The slip of paper I read illustrated this fact by showing a common word in each of the four languages. I couldn't figure how the North Korean and South Korean languages differed. But I figured I wouldn't ask or bring up the point with anybody. I didn't want to insult anyone.

I may have determined that I had to go to the Chinese building, or else I may have determined that my mom would be in the Chinese building, but that I needed to go to some general administrative building to confirm that.

I was now in a small, kind of rundown hallway of a building. The walls were white but dirty. The place felt a little scary. About halfway down the hallway I saw a nurse and one other hospital worker turning up the hallway from a corridor off to the left.

The nurse seemed to be blind. Her eyes were totally white. I made some kind of singing noise as I passed the nurse, to alert her to my presence. I wondered, as I passed the nurse, how she got by so well as a nurse when she was completely blind. I might have figured that that was a dumb thought, considering how well blind people get along in life in general.

I was now "at home," which may possibly have been where my whole family lived. I somehow knew that my mom was coming back home from the hospital/nursing home. This was kind of a surprise for me, as I'd thought she'd need a bit more time to rest and heal. But now she came walking through the door.

I may have been in the kitchen. My mom may have said that she needed me to help her get some of her things in order. I knew my mom had a bunch of movies in her room. I thought I could arrange her movies. I liked doing that, and, I now remembered, I'd actually arranged movies for my brother in a really neat, orderly way.

My mom's bedroom was right next to the kitchen. I stood in the hallway, often looking into both doorways at once. My mom knelt before her bed. Her bedroom was extremely cluttered. My mom pulled out a clear plastic bin of movies. She explained that the movies were to be arranged for my little niece.

We started arranging the movies. The boxes were like a hybrid of DVD cases and videocassette cases. The setup was different from the setup presented in my brother's collection, so I had to think of a different way of arranging things. I imagined arranging the movies in rows that would run the width of the plastic bin.

mother and brother in surgery; snoop lion hospital

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a hospital hallway. I may have just come from an operating room where my mom was in surgery. While I was out in the hallway my Aunt M, who was also in the hallway, received a phone call regarding my brother.

My brother may have come to the hospital with my mother to be with her during surgery. But now my brother had gotten ill. The doctors had taken him and put him into surgery as well. He was in a very bad condition. It was possible that he could die.

My aunt and I walked back into the operating room, where my mom was in surgery, wondering how we would tell my mom, when she woke, about my brother. There were a lot of other family members in the operating room.

My mom was laying on the operating table, unconscious, with an operating sheet over her body, and probably with an opening cut into her body somewhere. But I'm not sure that there were any doctors operating on my mom, or even in the operating room.

Dream #2

I was laying in bed at night. I had a cell phone, maybe an old BlackBerry, pressed to my ear. I was eavesdropping on a conversation between my step grandmother and my aunt M. I don't think I knew how I had managed to get in on their conversation. It surprised me that I could hear them. But now that I could hear them I decided I wanted to keep listening to their conversation, to see what they'd say about me or my mom while they didn't know I was around.

My grandma and my aunt spoke about someone in my immediately family for a moment or two, but only said something kind of vague. They then began speaking about an idea my grandma had to start a restaurant. My grandma said that she was really feeling the urge again to do the restaurant. But she needed the commitment from my aunt, that my aunt would commit to working at the restaurant. In the past my aunt had committed to working, but then had gone back on her commitment.

I rolled over onto my right side. My aunt was now standing over me, still talking on the phone with my grandma. My aunt had come to wake me up so we could go take care of something. I didn't want her to see me on the phone, eavesdropping on her conversation.

I sat up in bed. I was now in a bed in a hospital room. My mom sat in a chair on the right side of the room, near a window that had Venetian blinds. My aunt was in the room, but she left immediately, needing to go take care of something. When my aunt left, she left the door wide open.

I was some kind of worker in the hospital, not necessarily a doctor, maybe something more like an administrator. But people thought I was really smart, and I thought I was really smart, too.

Someone may have mentioned that there were one or two celebrities in the hallway. I didn't want to stand up and look for them. They didn't sound like celebrities I was interested. So I didn't feel like making the effort.

Then I heard a bunch of little kids screaming with delight. Somehow the news got to my room that Snoop Dogg was walking through the hallway. There were a bunch of elementary school kids out in the hallway -- like this hospital also had a wing that was an elementary school, or like the kids were on a field trip to the hospital. They had seen Snoop Dogg in the hallway. He was just trying to be low key. But the kids had seen him and gone crazy. Now they were all surrounding him.

I stood out of my bed to look through the windows and see what was going on. I thought I'd even go out and see Snoop Dogg for myself. I thought he was pretty cool. But I was only wearing my black boxer-brief underwear. I couldn't go out like this. But, for some reason, I also felt like it would be impossible, or at least a really big effort, for me to get dressed.

There was a computer on a desk before the Venetian blinds. I clacked around on the keyboard for a moment, apparently working with some data that somebody needed regarding whatever my job at the hospital was. I then looked out the window. Across some kind of empty space was another window, which looked into the hallway with the schoolkids and Snoop Dogg.

Snoop had been kneeling among this gaggle of white, pale-blonde children. He now stood up. He was tall, but not as tall as I'd expected him to be. He also looked a bit pale. His complexion was flat and a little pasty. He also looked a little bit like a teenager, with kind of naive eyes. His hair was undone, all puffy, puffing out from the back of his head. Snoop wore an old, worn-out windbreaker jacket that was blue on the torso and black on the sleeves, with swatches of white, maybe near the pecs and shoulder blades.

aunt's rorschach test

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

My mom and my aunt were standing in front of a wide sink in a hospital. My mom had told my aunt that she could conduct a test like the Rorschach test using the sink's faucet. This test would prove the sanity or mental competence of a person.

My mom was going to test my aunt. But I think the test of my aunt was just to prove the test worked. If the test worked to my aunt's satisfaction, my mom and aunt would use the test on someone else.

So my mom and aunt stared at the water running from the faucet. The water would apparently strike a plastic sheet or plastic strip, creating a little frame of a Rorschach image. My aunt would call out what the image reminded her of.

But after a few of these images, my aunt realized my mom wasn't actually recording my aunt's responses. My aunt asked my mom, "How is the test supposed to work if you don't record my responses? Do you even know what you're doing?"

My aunt decided that my mom shouldn't be the one to run this test. She told me I should run the test on her. I didn't even know how the test worked. But I walked up to the sink. I had a clipboard in my hands. Apparently I was going to record my aunt's responses on some grid of paper that also had Rorschach designs on it.

I reflected, though, that the water created random designs. The designs on the paper couldn't really match the designs my aunt saw from the water. So how was my recording of her responses supposed to correspond to anything? I thought the best way to conduct the test would be to have a computer record both the image and my aunt's response.

darts of betrayal; switching states; waiting rooms; the hesitant tranny-baby

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a different time period or dimension. The time period may have been the 1940s. It was night. I was in an apartment living room with a man. The room was dim and sepia-toned. The man probably wore a brownish suit. His hair was swept up in a wave from his forehead.

The back wall, along which the couch stood, was lined with papers. The papers may have been pictures or signs. They all indicated goals or missions -- something having to do with the future aims of the man. The man would throw darts at the pieces of paper. The pieces of paper the darts struck indicated something about the man's future. I think once a certain amount of papers had been hit, the man and I would actually start some kind of mission outside the apartment.

The man had been going along pretty regularly, hitting papers with darts. The man seemed to have good aim, which may have meant that he was putting together a pretty good future or mission. But somehow the man had gotten the idea that I had betrayed him somehow. He may now possibly have been coming to think that I had taken the woman he loved away from him.

This may have been true. I certainly remembered the woman (a dignified woman dressed in a Victorian kind of style, with a wide hairstyle and a form-fitting, white, lace dress that puffed out a bit at the collar and shoulders).

I remembered that the woman and I had been involved in some kind of situation, like a mission. But beyond that, I didn't know anything for certain. The woman and I may have gotten together with the aim of hurting the man, as if the man were bad and we were secretly trying to stop him from attaining some evil goal.

The man, in his disappointment, began tossing the darts around randomly. He tossed them without caring. He even tossed them at other walls, where there were no papers. The man started telling me things that implied that he knew the woman and I had gotten together. I wasn't really upset that the man was angry at me. I was more upset that he now seemed to be bent on messing up his future or mission, just because he was disappointed about this affair, which may not have even happened.

Dream #2

I was in a car with my mom and my third oldest nephew. We were driving through some suburban neighborhood that was full of steep hills. I was talking to my mom about how I thought I should possibly go back and work for the National Parks Service, like I had done about a decade ago.

My mom didn't seem to have much reaction to this. But my nephew was interested, asking what it would mean if I went to work for the Parks Service. I told my nephew that it meant I'd have to move to another state, maybe Arizona or New Mexico. I'd be kind of far away, and I'd be working in the forest or the desert all the time. As I said all of this, an image of a map, probably of the Southwestern United States, formed in my head.

Dream #3

I was in a hospital with my mom and sister, who seemed to be a young child. We were here because my mom needed to be seen by the doctor for something. My mom was taken into some hospital room. My sister and I were in a waiting room. But we were then led into a different waiting room.

At some point my sister and I also got separated from each other. I was supposed to find my sister and bring her into my waiting room. I may have found my sister at some point. I may have been a little annoyed to find that she was in hysterics over something I didn't think was a big deal at all.

Dream #4

I was in some place like a clothing store. There were a lot of men, mostly dressed in drag, around me. The men were all going to give me a makeover for Halloween. They decided they were going to dress me up as some kind of glamorous transvestite adult baby. I think I had an image in my mind's eye of me wearing a blonde wig, some kind of pink and white t-shirt, diapers, and some kind of gold-sequin panties over the diapers.

The guys were just about ready to put makeup on my face. I was getting a little worried. I told them, "Guys, if I start to look really awkward or stupid, don't try to be nice to me about it, okay? Just take the makeup off and we'll forget about all this."

seduced by my psychiatrist?

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a hospital. Possibly whatever I had been there for was all taken care of. But I don't know whether I was trying to leave. It seems to me now like I was going up and down in an elevator. I was confused somehow about where I was going on the elevator. Someone else may also have gotten on the elevator and made the elevator go in a different direction from the one I wanted.

Eventually I was outside the hospital. I got into a car with my family. It was a black night. Now it may have been like both my mom and I had been in the hospital. We had somehow brought toys from the hospital for my nephews and niece.

My niece pointed out something wrong with her toy. Her toy was some kind of male action figure. The problem with the toy may have been something in the packaging, like there was a hole or tear in the clear plastic around the action figure. My niece pointed this out to me as if to imply that by giving her a toy with this kind of fault, I was showing that I didn't care about her.

I felt bad that my niece felt this way. I believe my niece (who is only four years old) told me that if I wanted to fix things, I should go to my psychiatrist. My niece may also have told me that there was something going on in my psychiatrist's life that my psychiatrist really wanted to tell me about. My psychiatrist may even have asked my niece to tell me to come see her.

So I went to my psychiatrist's house. My psychiatrist opened the door. She was in a white nightgown. She hadn't expected to see me here, since I hadn't made an appointment or anything. But she let me into the house. She led me through a lit living room, through a room like a study, which was unlit, and into a room I thought at first was a visiting room, but which was actually a bedroom. The room was almost totally dark.

I could hear a football game blaring in the living room. I thought my psychiatrist had been watching the game. I told her that I was sorry I was interrupting the game. I said I didn't need to see her right now, if she'd rather see the game. I was just told to come over here, so I did so as soon as possible.

My psychiatrist said it was no problem, that she was actually glad I'd come. I could tell she really wanted to tell me something, but I couldn't guess what. Part of me thought that she really wanted me here because she wanted to have sex with me.

My psychiatrist said she'd turn on the lights so that we could see each other in her visiting room. She flicked a light switch on. No lights came on. The room was still dark. But my psychiatrist and I were both satisfied, as if the lights had come on.

I could see that my psychiatrist was wearing a protective paper or cloth mask over her mouth and nose. This kind of scared me. I realized that maybe what my psychiatrist wanted to tell me was that she had some kind of really bad illness. My psychiatrist's nightgown, I noticed, was also very sheer. My psychiatrist was wearing white panties, which I could see very plainly. I was really turned on, and I began to hope that my psychiatrist actually did want to have sex with me.

My psychiatrist sat on her bed, with her back propped up against the headboard and her legs stretched out on the mattress. She said she'd been in the hospital all day today. It seemed to me she was feeling pretty depressed. I wasn't really interested about talking about my own problems anymore. I really felt bad for coming to talk about them now, while my psychiatrist was in such bad condition. All I wanted to do was make sure she was okay.

My psychiatrist, though, seemed reluctant to give any details about her own condition. It seemed like she had asked me to talk about myself, like she was really trying to carry on a session between her and me. But she was also still talking about her condition, or at least making her own anguish known through her body language.

She now flopped down and rolled over on the bed, so that she was face down on the bed, laying sideways across the mattress, instead of with her head at the headboard and her feet at the baseboard. For some reason, I took this as another indication that my psychiatrist wanted to have sex with me. I thought I should get on top of her while she was in this position.

cooking potatoes; grandma's and my bills; not dying

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

It was night. I was in the kitchen of some apartment. All the lights in the apartment were off. The only light coming into the apartment was the blue light of the moon coming in through the windows. There were no windows in the kitchen, so the kitchen was particularly dim.

I may have been myself, or I may have been a young woman with black hair done up in pig tails. I had been cooking potatoes, doing so as a kind of illustration for somebody on how to cook potatoes.

There were a group of men, kind of tough-looking men maybe in their forties, all sitting out at my dining table. The light of the moon shone directly onto the dining table.

In my mind's eye I saw some small potatoes all piled up on top of each other on a square plate. The potatoes were covered over with something like a napkin or handkerchief. I imagined the napkin being pulled off the potatoes as I told the men that ----- potatoes (I can't remember what kind) were very special in that, to protect their (moistness or flavor?) they needed to be covered over with a satin sheet.

I was now back in the kitchen. I had a small pot full of full-sized potatoes. The potatoes looked like they had been baked, but they may have been boiled. I grabbed one of the potatoes. I pulled the skin all the way off the potato in one easy pull. It was like the skin had only been fitting very loosely onto the potato. I then shoved all the skin in my mouth and ate it. I thought it was delicious, and that it meant the potato would be very good.

I commented to the men at the table that the skin had come off so easily. I thought that might mean that the potato would be bad. The men replied that that meant the potato would be good. They even asked me what I was asking them for. Hadn't I just mentioned (or thought?), they asked, that a potato with loose skin would be good?

I knew they were right. I thought that the potato itself would be really moist and soft. I knew it would be delicious. I may have thought of eating one right now.

Dream #2

My grandmother had an electricity bill that needed to be paid. But somehow my mom and I had paid it off. We now needed to tell my grandma that we had paid off this bill.

We found my grandma down in some huge basement. It seemed like it may have been the basement for a house, but it was really huge. The place seemed run-down. It was really dim, like there was just some bright incandescent bulb, like might be found in a mine, shining for the whole basement.

I saw my grandma and told her that her electricity bill was paid off. My grandma hugged me and said thank you. My mom paced behind my grandma, giving her a mean kind of look, as if she were jealous of my grandma for thanking only me and not my mom.

My grandma then either told me that she had paid my electricity bill, or that I should also worry about my own electricity bill. My grandma made it sound like my bill was dangerously behind. I was kind of surprised by this. I didn't know my electricity bill had been behind. But my grandma said it was.

My mom took me upstairs to explain my electricity bill. We were up in a smallish living room. The lights were all on, but it still wasn't bright. The living room was pretty active, with all my nephews  playing around, running into and out of the house. My sister may have been in the living room as well.

My mom had something like a sketch pad that was wire-bound at the top. She flipped open the sketch pad. I could see something about the pad that implied that the identity of the person whose usage of electricity I was going to have to pay for was a pretty, long-haired woman. I saw -- somewhere, somehow -- a quick sketch of the woman in the nude, the curves of her body accentuated in a sexy way.

My mom showed me the electricity I had used. This usage had led me to believe that I only owed a certain amount on my electricity. But there had been additional usage, possibly by this woman, that I hadn't known about. I hadn't paid my bills on this usage for a number of months now, and now I owed something like $85.

The utility worker who would come out and inspect meters and decide whether to turn the electricity off or keep it on, and who was herself a very pretty woman, had been kind to me, my mother explained, and allowed my electricity to stay on, even when I wasn't paying the bills. But now, my mom explained, it was getting to the point where I would have to pay the money I owed.


Dream #3


It was night. Somebody may have been in a hospital and dying. It may have been me. My whole family was in one room of the hospital, possibly in with the person who was dying. 


I felt like I needed to prove that I wasn't the one who was dying. I was now at some other place in the hospital, and I needed to get back to my family to prove I wasn't dying. I entered the room that my family was in. I tried to prove to my family, apparently just with my presence and the fact that I could walk upright, that I wasn't dying.


***


UPDATE: A discussion of some of the images in these dreams can be found at this entry in my dreamday journal.


UPDATE 2: Added drawing for dream #1, July 12, 2012, 11:34 AM, Mountain Standard Time.

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.

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.

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.