and this guy was like; prison dance practice

Dream 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dream 2

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

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

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

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

casket shrine of the mystic river

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was with a group of people who were younger than I, maybe in their early twenties, on the banks of some river passage between two rocky cliffs. The sky was dark and swirly. In some way, it felt like we were inside rather than outside.

We all had to jump into the river. There were holes or chutes in the bottom of the river. I knew the chutes were lit, like the lights in swimming pools. There was some spherical stone we all had to touch. The stone was polished and black, but it also had a dim, blue-grey glow to it. The stone gave people who rubbed it extra gravity, which allow people to sink all the way to the bottom of the river and through the chutes.

Almost everybody, it seemed, had jumped into the river. The only person remaining, other than myself, I could see was a boy who looked like Justin Bieber. I was having some misgivings about jumping into the river. I felt like someone was trying to get me in trouble by having me jump into the river.

My view shifted. I was now out on a street like a residential street in some stereotypical musical about late-1800s London. It was pouring rain. A long, cream-colored, old-style car drove slowly along the road. I had the feeling that this car held the body (?) of a young man. The car belonged to a mafia-type group that was basically been aiming to frame the young man, whom I may have thought of as both myself and the Justin Beiber-like boy. The group wanted the boy in prison.

My view now shifted to the backyard (?) of some huge mansion that probably had an Asian style to it. It was night, and the rain was still pouring down. My view was mostly taken up by a pool or pond that was surrounded by a pagoda- or shrine-like structure. The shrine was tall and multi-tiered, but none of the tiers had a ceiling.

A man in an old, black, Asian-style outfit and black, round-framed glasses sat at the edge of the pool. The man was the head of the crime organization against the young man.

The man watched as a nice, cream-colored (?) casket rose up out of the pool. It rose up, but it may have been like it was actually descending. The man was upset by this. This casket probably held the young man's dead body. The crime boss hadn't wanted the young man dead: the young man was dear to the crime-boss somehow; the crime-boss had only wanted the young man disabled, imprisoned.

The crime-boss was also upset by the casket getting wet. It meant that the young man's body was also likely getting wet. This may have been bad befause it prevented the young man from coming back to life, or because it was uncomfortable to the young man, if he were alive, or because it was a dishonor to the young man's memory.