Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I had come back home to "my apartment." I may only recently have moved into this place. I walked into the living room to discover that my old best friend R had sent me a huge package. The package was a housewarming present.
I opened the package. It was full of stuff. The most prominent thing in the package was a box of shoes. I'd needed some new casual shoes, as the soles of my current ones were getting thin. Somehow R knew this and sent me shoes.
The rest of the box was full of pop culture items: mostly music CDs and movie posters. Two of the movie posters were enormous and rolled up together. The front movie poster was for a new Tim Burton claymation movie. The poster was "in French" (it really wasn't French) and gave the title of the movie as Formulation. A clay man and woman stood at the top of the hill in the circle of the sun or moon and under an orange sky. The man wore a leather and buckles kind of outfit.
I thought this movie poster matched my style, but I couldn't figure out why. I looked up at my walls. There were two life-sized cutouts pasted up to my wall. One was of Brandon Lee in The Crow. The other was another leather and buckles kind of guy, maybe Edward Scissorhands.
I looked back down to the package. I pulled out the soundtrack for the Sophia Coppola movie Marie Antoinette. As I flipped the CD case around in my hands I could either hear R speak or else see a post-it note from R. Basically I perceived some apology for the Marie Antoinette soundtrack -- as if some of the songs were so weird that R thought they might not be my style, even though he personally was really excited about the soundtrack and wanted to share it with me.
Dream #2
I was in the backseat of a car, driving along a wide, park-like road in some suburban area, probably in a wealthy part of town. There were probably three other guys in the car, all businessmen. The guy driving the car was TM, a former co-worker of mine. But in the dream I didn't know TM. He and the other guys in the car were guys who worked for a company I was trying to get a job with.
I'd just interviewed with the company, and now we were all headed away from the company -- like it was the end of the day and the guys had all decided they'd drop me off at home. I suddenly remembered that as I'd passed TM's office, I saw a picture of another of my old co-workers, TI, on TM's desk. I realized that TI had called TM to put in a good word for me.
I asked TM, "Hey, have you spoken with TI lately?" TM didn't seem to know who TI was. I thought that was kind of weird and annoying. I told TM, "Well TI told me he was going to call you and put in a good word for me. And you must know who he is, even if he didn't call you yet. You have a huge picture of him right on the top of your desk."
TM now seemed ashamed. He squinted, as if he were now trying really hard to remember who TI was. He finally may have come to the conclusion that he did, in fact, know who TI was. I felt really bad at this point. Here I was, trying to get a job from TM. And instead, I was sitting here, making him feel really bad about himself.
We stopped the car for some reason out on some wide road in front of some large, brick apartment complexes. A group of little girls was playing some tag-like game in the road. TM sat there and watched the little girls. He may have made some remark to me about the simplicity and kindness of children.
One of the little girls then shouted out to TM, "Hey? Why are you looking at us? Are you trying to do something funny with us?"
TM tried to assure the girls he was just watching them play because he liked to remember the innocence of childhood. But the girl said, "Well, don't you dare try to touch me! Because if you do, I'll call the police!"
TM may have gotten made at this point. He may have shown his anger and frustration in some vocal or phsyical way while remaining separate from the girls. The girls may have been reacting in a nasty way toward TM as well, although it may have seemed to me they were just trying to coax him to get closer to them.
But in the middle of all this, a tall, strong girl shouted and broke up the rest of the crowd of girls. She bent over and touched her hands to the ground. This quieted all the girls down. The girl then stood up and told TM that anything he wanted to try against the girls he could try against her. She was tough and confident and felt like she could counter any assault TM would attempt.
TM still remained separate from the girls. But the tough girl finally taunted TM to the point where, in a rage, he flew at the girl. He made some weird kind of movement toward the girl -- something like slapping her chest, then grabbing one of her own hands, or the hand of another girl, and making that hand slap the tough girl in the face.
This incited a big, fight-like game among all the girls and TM. I understood that the girls weren't really trying to fight TM. They were actually trying to confuse him into letting them seduce him. But now I saw that one girl, who was deciding to be nice and take TM under her wing, had grabbed TM's hand. She was walking TM through the crowd of frenzied girls. The girls all now seemed unaware of TM. They seemed to be fighting or playing violently with each other.
Dream #3
I was at some sort of karaoke event. I was in a huge room filled with long, school cafeteria-style folding tables. There were rows and rows of these tables, all with white tops and benches. At the far end of the room was the actual karaoke performance area. I couldn't see the performance area very well, if at all. But I could see the karaoke DJ sitting down at the front bench and working something out on a piece of paper.
The tables weren't full, but the space was so big that it felt like there were a lot of people here anyway. Not a lot of people were going up to perform. A lot of the time, a song would play in between people who were actually performing, just because people weren't putting song requests in fast enough to keep the karaoke performances constant.
I hadn't thought I'd do any karaoke. But now it was getting so frustrating to hear regular songs instead of karaoke songs that I decided I would sing a couple songs. I thought I'd sing one song in English and one in Japanese. I looked through the book of songs without finding anything I really wanted to sing. Then I realized that it actually cost money to sing: something like $1 per song. I didn't have any money. I'd have to go back to my house to grab some money.
I stood up and walked out of the karaoke space and out onto a wide, grassy field. It was a cool, grey day. I now knew I was at a fair of some kind. Bordering the large, grassy field were booths and little structures set up as exhibits for the fair. The karaoke section was only a part of it. I think the rest of my family was here as well.
My brother came running up behind me. He looked a little bit fat, like he'd gained about twenty pounds since the last time I'd seen him. He asked me where I was going. I told him I was heading home to grab some money. He said he was heading home for a second, too, so he could give me a ride if I wanted. I told him that sounded good.
My brother asked me if I'd ever heard of a coffee called "uite" or "uita" (pronounced "you-ee-tay" or "you-ee-tah"). He said it was a new trend among coffee drinkers. It was based on a very old, native style of coffee. He said it had a rich, bitter flavor with "glass undertones."
For a moment I wondered what "glass undertones" could possibly come from. Then I realized that in the making of the uite coffee -- I had the image of grass and dirt in my mind's eye -- the actual melting (???) process created a material that was potable, but which had chemical similarities to glass. So the coffee actually did have a glass-like taste.
I told my brother, "Yeah, now that you mention it, I think I have heard of uite coffee. But I've never tried it before."
Dream #4
I stood out on a street corner in a city like New York. Looking across the street, I saw a big, stone-like, but also barn-like, all-white building. The second floor of the building, I could see, was a shop that sold old vinyl records. From what I could see through the small windows, the shop looked, big, clean, well-lit, and full of people. But what interested me more was the floor above the record shop, which looked like an empty apartment.
I was suddenly now in the apartment. The apartment was huge and completely empty. The floors and walls were in pristine condition. I started out at the back end of the apartment and walked toward the front. At the front there was a stairway leading up one level. I walked up the stairway and found myself in an area just as huge, empty, and pristine as the area below.
I had a bunch of clothes and towels with me. I decided to hang some of this stuff up in a closet at the back end of the upper level. I knew this was allowed. Anybody could store their stuff in this place. I had a few more items of clothing with me. I wanted to store them as well. But I didn't know where.
I may have found myself back outside the building, across the street, looking up at the record store. I may then have been inside the record store. But even though the record store seemed really beautiful, cheerful, and busy, it didn't interest me.
I walked out of the store. I was in the stairwell of the building. I wondered, walking up the stairwell to get to the apartment, what it must be like to live above a record store. I wondered if it was loud. I had the idea that it didn't have to be too loud. But I wondered whether, if I lived above the store, the owners of the store would turn their in-store music up extra loud just to annoy me -- because they didn't like me personally.
I got back into the apartment and realized I couldn't live here anyway. It would be too expensive. And besides, I didn't think it was for sale. I knew the place was open to anybody who wanted to store their clothes here. And people could even hang out here during the day, if they wanted to. But nobody was really allowed to live here.
Walking around in the space, I marveled at the fact that I hadn't known about it before. It was so huge and so quiet, such a great place to just come and relax. It would, really, be a great place to live, as well. The only problem with it, I thought, was that it was built so that the whole, huge space consisted of two or three large segments, more like two or three enormous living rooms, rather than any actual bedrooms.
But now, looking right and back over my shoulder, I began to realize that there were side rooms. For some reason I couldn't quite make myself go into these rooms. But one of the rooms I stopped in front of seemed to be bedroom sized. It seemed like the room was separated from me by a smaller room, something like a walk-in closet.
I had my other clothes in my hand, still trying to decide whether I wanted to take them up to the closet to hang them up. I knew that even though nobody else was using this space, the space was open to anybody. And these clothes were my really good clothes. I didn't want to hang them up with the rest of the clothes, only to find out later on that someone had gotten into the clothes and messed them all up because they didn't like me. Now I even became a bit paranoid about the other clothes that I'd already hung up. They weren't my best clothes. But, still, I didn't want people messing them up.
Dream #5
I was in a "restaurant" that seemed more like some kind of casino -- or, more like a casino space with slot machines that looked and played more like 8-bit video games than slot machines. I was seated at a "booth" with an older woman, maybe one of my grandmothers. I was trying to tell my grandma about this place, trying, in some way to justify its existence. But I felt like my arguments were all kind of naive and lame.
I then realized that this place also held a karaoke area. I had actually been in the karaoke area some time ago. I had been planning to head back to the karaoke area after I'd taken care of something. But I'd forgotten to go back to the karaoke area.
So I stood up and told my grandma that I had to go back to the karaoke area. I tried again to justify the existence of the karaoke area to my grandma. But I knew all my arguments for sounded lame.
I was now walking outside, as if one had to go outside the building to go from one section in the building to another section. I walked along a ridge a bit separated from and elevated with the building, so I got a good view of the overall building. The building was interesting. It was mostly made of glass, and it was configured of a few different shapes: a cylinder and a couple of curvy, not-quite-cubes. Looking inside, one could see how much the entire space looked like some kind of children's playplace than an adult casino.
A car now drove up behind me. One of my old bosses got out of the car and walked up to me. He asked me if he could give me a ride home. I wasn't going home, but I also really didn't want a ride from my old boss at all. So I told my old boss, "No, I'm not going home yet. In fact, I'm heading back into the building right now to sing some karaoke."
My old boss said, "Well, let me drive you somewhere. You know, they have karaoke up the street, as well. Up at that place..." My old boss pointed up the road and slung his finger off toward the right, indicating a road going up a small slope.
I told my old boss, "No. I don't want to do karaoke there. I want to do karaoke here, at this place." Eventually my old boss relented, got back in his car, and drove away. But, walking back toward the building, I was feeling really stressed out. I didn't think I should always have to make such a big argument with people for wanting to do my own thing. But it seemed as if I always had to.
I may have been back in the karaoke area for a little while. The karaoke area may have looked a lot like the karaoke area from dream #3. The one difference between the areas, though, may have been that here, people could write "criticism cards." After each person performed, you could give a criticism of the performance. This criticism would be posted, most likely by the next morning, on either the person's email or Facebook. I thought I'd definitely write criticisms, but only positive ones, like, "good job!" or "you really had a lot of energy!"
Showing posts with label little girl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label little girl. Show all posts
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
i kiss lady gaga; tunnel in the sky; hard-boiled birthday
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I had written a short story which had a very brief passage in it mentioning Lady Gaga. I wanted to make sure Lady Gaga was okay with this passage -- even though I think I'd already published the story on a website or Smashwords or something.
Somehow I'd managed to get a hold of Lady Gaga on the phone. But even as we started talking, Lady Gaga appeared right next to me. Lady Gaga looked surprisingly normal. She had platinum blonde hair in a kind of round style, down to just below her shoulders. She wore black sunglasses, a black, leather jacket, a tank top, short, denim jeans, and maybe some black nylons.
We were sitting in a wide car seat, like the backseat of a car from the 1970s. But we weren't really in a car. We were in a room filled with stuff like colorful toys and stuffed animals, cluttered all around us. We were talking for a while, but I can't remember what we were talking about.
Then Lady Gaga asked me if I wanted to kiss her. I didn't feel like I was incredibly attracted to her. But she kind of had a hypnotic power over me. Plus, she was a big celebrity, and she was being so nice to me. I thought I'd better kiss her.
I slowly moved toward her. I think Lady Gaga's lips were bubblegum-pink. And up close, her cheeks looked a little chubby and cute. We kissed softly on the lips for a few seconds. It felt kind of magnetic. It felt really nice.
Then I was standing off of the car seat. It was like Lady Gaga was driving away, though I still don't think the car seat was in an actual car. Lady Gaga said, "Yeah, your story's fine. I have to go take care of some stuff now. Maybe I'll come back here when I'm done. Will you be available if I come around?"
I think I told her I'd be available. I think I looked around the toy-cluttered room and tried to figure out what the heck I was supposed to be doing here anyway.
Dream #2
I was laying out on a high school football field. It must have been late afternoon. The sun had gone down. The clouds all had a strange tinge of raspy, aluminum-pale orange. The air had the same kind of color. But I could see just behind the first layer of orange clouds was another layer of really dark grey-black clouds. I knew there was going to be a big thunderstorm.
I turned my head and told the football coach (?) that there was going to be a thunderstorm. I was kind of afraid to be laying out here like this. A huge tunnel opened up in the sky. The walls of the tunnel were made of orange clouds and grey-black clouds, interwoven. The tunnel seemed to work its way high up into the atmosphere, maybe even all the way into outer space. I may have seen large rocks floating through or falling through the tunnel.
I got really afraid of the impending thunderstorm. I stood up and walked to the edge of the field. At the edge of the field the grey-black clouds seemed to be a lot less potent. I figured I stood much less chance of being struck by lightning if I stood over here.
Dream #3
I was in the living room of a small apartment. The living room was bright white with daylight. I knelt before a couch, on which a little girl sat. Just to the right of the couch was the kitchen, in which the mom may have been working. There may have been one or two more kids in the apartment.
Now a little boy came running in through the front door of the apartment, off to my left. He ran all the way through the living room and into the hallway, saying, "Daddy's coming upstairs right now!"
The little girl on the couch got upset. She asked, "What do you mean he's coming home right now? He wasn't supposed to come home until later! That doesn't give us any time to prepare his surprise birthday party!"
The father came into the house. He was tall, pale, muscular, and attractive, with wavy, brown hair done in a square-swept, almost 1950s style. He wore a white t-shirt and blue jeans. He said hello as he walked in.
The mother called from the kitchen, saying that the family hadn't expected the father home so soon today. The mother hinted to the father, trying not to let on to the girl that she was hinting to the father (even though I think the girl knew), that the girl had planned on him coming home later so she could have a surprise party ready for him.
The father looked a little inconvenienced, knowing that he'd have to go back outside so everybody could put his party together. But he figured he'd do it, if it made the little girl happy. So he said, "Oh, you know, I forgot I have to go pick up this thing. It's gonna take me a while. But I'll be back in a bit."
As soon as the father got out the door, the little girl stood up. She said, "Okay. Now we really have to get working to make the surprise party." The little girl turned to me and said, "You help me make the hard-boiled eggs."
The little girl and I were now in the kitchen, which was different from the kitchen the mother had been in. This one wasn't open to the living room, and it ended directly in front of the front door to the apartment. The counter was all cluttered with all kinds of food. There was a television set at the right end of the counter. Some show was blaring away on it.
The little girl had been preparing some eggs for me. Apparently, making hard-boiled eggs was a two-step process. I was the second step, which was boiling the eggs. The little girl, who may now have been my sister, at her age in waking life, now left the kitchen. She was heading out with a few other people. I think everybody was going out to get items for the party.
I looked at the eggs my sister had left me with. I knew she had done something to prepare them so I could boil them. But, I thought, I had to get them into the pot as soon as possible. I picked up one of the eggs. It crumbled in my hands. It was like there hadn't even been anything inside the shell.
I looked down at the eggs. They were all on a plate, or maybe on an upside-down lid for a Tupperware container. One of the eggs looked cracked and buckled in all the way around. The cracks looked all rusty. I tried to pick up another one of the eggs. But when I did, it uncoiled, like it was a peeled potato/egg that had been re-spooled to look unpeeled, but then came all unwound as soon as I'd touched it.
I felt like maybe I'd waited too long to put the eggs in the pot. Or maybe I'd mishandled them all in some way. Whatever had happened, these eggs were no good. I'd have to prepare a new batch of eggs for boiling. I didn't think I knew how to do it. I'd have to ask my sister. But my sister wouldn't be back for a while. So I'd have to figure out for myself how to prepare the eggs.
It may have occurred to me that what I really needed to do was take raw eggs, boil them, and then run them under cold water. I may have gotten ready to do this.
But now I was distracted by the image on TV. It was some movie from the 1980s. A bunch of hot high school girls were all getting together for the night for a slumber party. They were all wearing skimpy lingerie and frolicking around in some girl's bedroom. I had my eyes glued to some girl laying on her stomach on the floor, cuddling with some big, soft pillow. She wore an almost see-through pink negligee. Her bottom was really turning me on.
Dream #1
I had written a short story which had a very brief passage in it mentioning Lady Gaga. I wanted to make sure Lady Gaga was okay with this passage -- even though I think I'd already published the story on a website or Smashwords or something.
Somehow I'd managed to get a hold of Lady Gaga on the phone. But even as we started talking, Lady Gaga appeared right next to me. Lady Gaga looked surprisingly normal. She had platinum blonde hair in a kind of round style, down to just below her shoulders. She wore black sunglasses, a black, leather jacket, a tank top, short, denim jeans, and maybe some black nylons.
We were sitting in a wide car seat, like the backseat of a car from the 1970s. But we weren't really in a car. We were in a room filled with stuff like colorful toys and stuffed animals, cluttered all around us. We were talking for a while, but I can't remember what we were talking about.
Then Lady Gaga asked me if I wanted to kiss her. I didn't feel like I was incredibly attracted to her. But she kind of had a hypnotic power over me. Plus, she was a big celebrity, and she was being so nice to me. I thought I'd better kiss her.
I slowly moved toward her. I think Lady Gaga's lips were bubblegum-pink. And up close, her cheeks looked a little chubby and cute. We kissed softly on the lips for a few seconds. It felt kind of magnetic. It felt really nice.
Then I was standing off of the car seat. It was like Lady Gaga was driving away, though I still don't think the car seat was in an actual car. Lady Gaga said, "Yeah, your story's fine. I have to go take care of some stuff now. Maybe I'll come back here when I'm done. Will you be available if I come around?"
I think I told her I'd be available. I think I looked around the toy-cluttered room and tried to figure out what the heck I was supposed to be doing here anyway.
Dream #2
I was laying out on a high school football field. It must have been late afternoon. The sun had gone down. The clouds all had a strange tinge of raspy, aluminum-pale orange. The air had the same kind of color. But I could see just behind the first layer of orange clouds was another layer of really dark grey-black clouds. I knew there was going to be a big thunderstorm.
I turned my head and told the football coach (?) that there was going to be a thunderstorm. I was kind of afraid to be laying out here like this. A huge tunnel opened up in the sky. The walls of the tunnel were made of orange clouds and grey-black clouds, interwoven. The tunnel seemed to work its way high up into the atmosphere, maybe even all the way into outer space. I may have seen large rocks floating through or falling through the tunnel.
I got really afraid of the impending thunderstorm. I stood up and walked to the edge of the field. At the edge of the field the grey-black clouds seemed to be a lot less potent. I figured I stood much less chance of being struck by lightning if I stood over here.
Dream #3
I was in the living room of a small apartment. The living room was bright white with daylight. I knelt before a couch, on which a little girl sat. Just to the right of the couch was the kitchen, in which the mom may have been working. There may have been one or two more kids in the apartment.
Now a little boy came running in through the front door of the apartment, off to my left. He ran all the way through the living room and into the hallway, saying, "Daddy's coming upstairs right now!"
The little girl on the couch got upset. She asked, "What do you mean he's coming home right now? He wasn't supposed to come home until later! That doesn't give us any time to prepare his surprise birthday party!"
The father came into the house. He was tall, pale, muscular, and attractive, with wavy, brown hair done in a square-swept, almost 1950s style. He wore a white t-shirt and blue jeans. He said hello as he walked in.
The mother called from the kitchen, saying that the family hadn't expected the father home so soon today. The mother hinted to the father, trying not to let on to the girl that she was hinting to the father (even though I think the girl knew), that the girl had planned on him coming home later so she could have a surprise party ready for him.
The father looked a little inconvenienced, knowing that he'd have to go back outside so everybody could put his party together. But he figured he'd do it, if it made the little girl happy. So he said, "Oh, you know, I forgot I have to go pick up this thing. It's gonna take me a while. But I'll be back in a bit."
As soon as the father got out the door, the little girl stood up. She said, "Okay. Now we really have to get working to make the surprise party." The little girl turned to me and said, "You help me make the hard-boiled eggs."
The little girl and I were now in the kitchen, which was different from the kitchen the mother had been in. This one wasn't open to the living room, and it ended directly in front of the front door to the apartment. The counter was all cluttered with all kinds of food. There was a television set at the right end of the counter. Some show was blaring away on it.
The little girl had been preparing some eggs for me. Apparently, making hard-boiled eggs was a two-step process. I was the second step, which was boiling the eggs. The little girl, who may now have been my sister, at her age in waking life, now left the kitchen. She was heading out with a few other people. I think everybody was going out to get items for the party.
I looked at the eggs my sister had left me with. I knew she had done something to prepare them so I could boil them. But, I thought, I had to get them into the pot as soon as possible. I picked up one of the eggs. It crumbled in my hands. It was like there hadn't even been anything inside the shell.
I looked down at the eggs. They were all on a plate, or maybe on an upside-down lid for a Tupperware container. One of the eggs looked cracked and buckled in all the way around. The cracks looked all rusty. I tried to pick up another one of the eggs. But when I did, it uncoiled, like it was a peeled potato/egg that had been re-spooled to look unpeeled, but then came all unwound as soon as I'd touched it.
I felt like maybe I'd waited too long to put the eggs in the pot. Or maybe I'd mishandled them all in some way. Whatever had happened, these eggs were no good. I'd have to prepare a new batch of eggs for boiling. I didn't think I knew how to do it. I'd have to ask my sister. But my sister wouldn't be back for a while. So I'd have to figure out for myself how to prepare the eggs.
It may have occurred to me that what I really needed to do was take raw eggs, boil them, and then run them under cold water. I may have gotten ready to do this.
But now I was distracted by the image on TV. It was some movie from the 1980s. A bunch of hot high school girls were all getting together for the night for a slumber party. They were all wearing skimpy lingerie and frolicking around in some girl's bedroom. I had my eyes glued to some girl laying on her stomach on the floor, cuddling with some big, soft pillow. She wore an almost see-through pink negligee. Her bottom was really turning me on.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
space mall; battery spider; threatening a bad decision; upskirt exposure; buenos aires road sign; les galans
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was riding in a car, on the passenger side, either in the front or back seat. I was looking out the window and up at the sky. The sky was deep blue. In my mind's eye (I think) I saw a pink, buzzing image superimposed over the sky. I also heard, like in narration, a woman's voice telling me that, at the place where I was going, all my needs and desires were anticipated and provided for.
I was now watching myself head down a long escalator inside a mall. I saw everything from a very high angle, as if part of me were outside my body, watching my body from some high up floor in the building.
Once I reached the bottom of the escalator (which was blocked off by a set of pylons and poles, like the escalator was under construction), a robot greeted me. The robot had a basic human shape, but it was featureless. All the components of its body were like bubbles or capsules. It had a dull gold color. The robot led me away. Somehow I knew this place was called the "space mall," that it was a mall in outer space, and that it had everything I needed.
Dream #2
I was in "my bedroom." I apparently had a big, brown blanket that I lay down on whenever I would do my drawings, like the drawings I do as illustrations for my dreams. The blanket was folded up. I unfolded it. The surface of the blanket was covered with junk, garbage, and grainy stuff, probably sand. I was disgusted and a little ashamed. How could I have let my drawing blanket become like this?
I tried to clean it off. But now I saw what I thought was a bug. I had to look at it more carefully. It was actually a Duracell AA battery. It seemed to be moving about on its own. But each time it would move, the copper-top part of it would distort a little, like it was malleable and there was a spider inside, trying to poke out of it.
I was convinced that the battery was a bug. I tried to smash it. That's when I saw that there was actually a spider behind the battery. It looked like a normal house spider. But apparently it took batteries and stacked them up to create a little home for itself. It was trying to push the battery away right now.
I watched the spider push the battery again. Whenever the battery moved, its top would distort, as if the spider were inside it. There were a number of batteries on the blanket. I'm not sure whether there were other spiders. I think there may have been.
Dream #3
I was in front of some house with my mom and possibly my sister and a couple other family members. The house may have been my great aunt's house. There were some tall, well-trimmed shrubs in front of the porch to the house. My mom and I stood in a little space between two shrubs.
We'd been having some kind of argument. I was floating in the air. My mom may also have been floating. Either I or my mom was holding an empty kraft paper box in our hands, like a box the old blocks of food-assistance cheese would come in. We both may have been carrying a box.
My mom was now really angry with me. To spite me, she told me that she knew I'd made bad stock market decisions in my life, so I shouldn't think I was so smart. My mom's statement had shocked and shamed me, just like my mom had wanted. So now she walked away.
I was descending very slowly while thinking about what my mom had said. Of course I'd made bad stock choices in my life. But my mom was talking about one particular decision, and that had made me upset. But I suddenly found a way to make myself feel less bad about that decision. I told myself that G, one of my old clients, had either made the exact same mistake or had suggested that I make the decision I'd made. And he was a smart guy. So why should I feel stupid about my mistake?
I had finally descended to the ground. I charged away, trying to find my mother so that I could respond to her with what I'd remembered. All this time I had the image of my old boss BB in the back of my head.
I was now in a grocery store. I was in the far back, far right corner of the store (as one would face the front of the store). Or -- I may have been in the far back, toward the center of the store. The grocery store was huge, like a Walmart. But it felt old and worn-out. There was barely anybody in the store. And all the lights may have been off, so that there was only a dimmish, yellow-grey light coming from the window walls at the front of the store.
I now told myself that my mom always used to do stuff like this to me when I was young. When she did something I thought I should criticize, I would. Then she'd get angry at me and shout out mean things about me personally to make me ashamed of myself. (I don't think this is necessarily true in waking life.) She was doing the same thing to me now. I told myself to guard myself against this and not to let it bother me.
But I now had an idea. I'd say something to my mom that would really hurt her! I was standing in the laundry detergent aisle of the store, still holding the empty cheese box in my hands, probably cuddling it up to my chest. I knew my mom was sitting at some little dining area right at the front of the store. I ran to the front of the store and found my mom sitting at a booth table with red seats and a white table top.
I jumped into the booth seat across from her. I then leaned over the table and whispered in my mom's ear, "I'm either going to move back to New York or I'm going to kill myself." I backed down into my seat and laughed a little.
But suddenly I felt stupid for what I'd said. Of course, I hadn't meant any of it. And, how was it supposed to hurt my mom? There was no way I could get back to New York, even though I missed the place terribly. And by threatening my own life in front of somebody, I risked getting thrown into a hospital.
Dream #4
I was in a bedroom with my ex-girlfriend H. H was wearing a long skirt. The bedroom was really small and tight, and I was sitting on the bed. Suddenly H lay, stomach down, over my lap, like she was expecting to get a spanking.
Just as suddenly, the bedroom door flew open, and a gust of wind blew H's skirt all the way up. H wasn't wearing any underwear, and her bottom (which was kind of huge) was in full view. A few small boys wearing baseball caps stood looking into the room. I was either trying to think of a way to close the door on them or hoping that they'd just go away and forget what they'd seen.
Dream #5
It was a grey day. My brother and I were standing out on a huge street that was a part of an enormous crossing of highways. We stood on one of the ground-level roads. But there were three or four levels of roads on winding, twisting bridges above us. The streets were all either empty or else so quiet that we weren't worried about standing out in the middle of the road.
My brother and I were down in South America. We were actually citizens of some South American country. But somehow we'd gotten our location all confused. We were now trying to get back home. I, in particular, was a bit upset. We were in one country (Venezuela?) when we were trying to get to another country (Argentina?), and I was mad at the first country, like it was the entire country's fault that I was inside of it.
So, in spite, I started throwing black pebbles at a street sign. The street sign was just one long, horizontal green strip with white writing on it (like a United States street sign). It said "Buenos Aires - 3," even though I'm pretty sure we weren't in Argentina.
I started to have the idea that if I could throw the black pebbles hard enough at the sign, they'd actually pierce the sign. This would create a dimensional hole. I could then travel through the dimensional hole to get back to my correct country. I think my brother caught onto this idea. He started throwing pebbles, too.
But now we were in the living room of my current apartment (or some place pretty close to it). The Buenos Aires sign was still in front of us, and we were still throwing pebbles at it, still trying to break through into another dimension. But we'd run out of black pebbles. I looked at the floor. There were a lot of big rocks. I may have been uncertain of whether rocks would work. Then I thought, Well, they must work. They're bigger than the pebbles. They'll burst right through the sign!
Dream #6
I was sitting on a couch in a living room. The living room was actually like two living rooms set side by side. I sat in the living room that was farther back from the front door. Other than the couch, there was little or no furniture in this room.
A few kids started playing around in the room. There may have been an older girl or a young woman playing with a little girl. But somehow I got the responsibility of taking care of the little girl. I didn't mind this -- in fact, I thought I was better at taking care of the little girl than anyone else could have been.
The little girl sat down beside me on the couch. We were watching another set of little kids playing. Most of the kids were boys, but there may have been one girl. The girl seemed to be really delicate. But somehow I managed to do something to make the little girl feel good about herself.
The boys had run off to play something else. The little girl was either there or not there. It may have been like -- somehow -- she'd joined together with the little girl who was sitting on the couch. The little girl on the couch was maybe three years old. But now she complimented me on the way I dealt with children. She spoke like an adult. Even her vocal intonations were mature.
I wasn't amazed. I think I was seeing the little girl as a little girl but reacting to her as if she were an adult, like a high-up business woman whom I was trying to impress. I told the little girl, "Well, you know, it' no big deal. What my philosophy is, is treat kids like adults. Assume that they can understand everything an adult can understand. And they'll be thankful to you for it. They'll feel better about themselves because they'll feel like they're more in control of their own lives."
The little girl and I were both sitting on one of the short ends of the couch, as if the couch no longer had any arms! My knees were almost touching a small table with a lamp on it. The little girl and I both seemed to be geared up for an interesting conversation. But now my mom walked up from the other living room. She'd said something to the little girl which kind of reinforced the fact that my mom, and not I, was taking care of the little girl.
The little girl (whom I now may occasionally have seen as a young woman, attractive, with copper-colored skin and raven-black hair) tried to compromise with my mom by trying to combine my conversation with the conversation my mom had started. The little girl said, "That makes me think, maybe we should go to the video store and check out that French film, Les Galans, and that other film, -----."
My mom was still in the other living room. On the right wall (my right) was an entertainment center. On the left wall were a couch and some other pieces of furniture. My mom stood at an end table near us and rifled through a big pile of clutter. She said, "Nope. We can't do that. We can't go to the video store anymore. We still have a video of theirs."
My mom pulled a video cassette case out of the pile of clutter and held it before our faces. The case looked like it was from Blockbuster Video. But the front of it was a design for the front of the original case for a video cassette. The movie the case was for was some kind of anime. A pretty, blonde girl stood in front of some city scene. The girl may also have been standing by her car, a sleek, red sports car.
The little girl/young woman asked, "Can't we just take that video back and pick up a new one?"
My mom said, "No. This video was checked out by ---- (some young woman who was apparently a friend of the family). But she left today. She ----- (either moved away permanently or went away for a few days?) just this morning."
The little girl/young woman said, "Oh... So we can't do anything with that card without ----- being here. I see."
***
UPDATE: A discussion of some of the images from these dreams can be found at this entry in my dreamday journal.
UPDATE 2: Added drawings to dream #5 and dream #6, August 1, 2012, 2:43 PM, Mountain Standard Time.
Dream #1
I was riding in a car, on the passenger side, either in the front or back seat. I was looking out the window and up at the sky. The sky was deep blue. In my mind's eye (I think) I saw a pink, buzzing image superimposed over the sky. I also heard, like in narration, a woman's voice telling me that, at the place where I was going, all my needs and desires were anticipated and provided for.
I was now watching myself head down a long escalator inside a mall. I saw everything from a very high angle, as if part of me were outside my body, watching my body from some high up floor in the building.
Once I reached the bottom of the escalator (which was blocked off by a set of pylons and poles, like the escalator was under construction), a robot greeted me. The robot had a basic human shape, but it was featureless. All the components of its body were like bubbles or capsules. It had a dull gold color. The robot led me away. Somehow I knew this place was called the "space mall," that it was a mall in outer space, and that it had everything I needed.
Dream #2
I was in "my bedroom." I apparently had a big, brown blanket that I lay down on whenever I would do my drawings, like the drawings I do as illustrations for my dreams. The blanket was folded up. I unfolded it. The surface of the blanket was covered with junk, garbage, and grainy stuff, probably sand. I was disgusted and a little ashamed. How could I have let my drawing blanket become like this?
I tried to clean it off. But now I saw what I thought was a bug. I had to look at it more carefully. It was actually a Duracell AA battery. It seemed to be moving about on its own. But each time it would move, the copper-top part of it would distort a little, like it was malleable and there was a spider inside, trying to poke out of it.
I was convinced that the battery was a bug. I tried to smash it. That's when I saw that there was actually a spider behind the battery. It looked like a normal house spider. But apparently it took batteries and stacked them up to create a little home for itself. It was trying to push the battery away right now.
I watched the spider push the battery again. Whenever the battery moved, its top would distort, as if the spider were inside it. There were a number of batteries on the blanket. I'm not sure whether there were other spiders. I think there may have been.
Dream #3
I was in front of some house with my mom and possibly my sister and a couple other family members. The house may have been my great aunt's house. There were some tall, well-trimmed shrubs in front of the porch to the house. My mom and I stood in a little space between two shrubs.
We'd been having some kind of argument. I was floating in the air. My mom may also have been floating. Either I or my mom was holding an empty kraft paper box in our hands, like a box the old blocks of food-assistance cheese would come in. We both may have been carrying a box.
My mom was now really angry with me. To spite me, she told me that she knew I'd made bad stock market decisions in my life, so I shouldn't think I was so smart. My mom's statement had shocked and shamed me, just like my mom had wanted. So now she walked away.
I was descending very slowly while thinking about what my mom had said. Of course I'd made bad stock choices in my life. But my mom was talking about one particular decision, and that had made me upset. But I suddenly found a way to make myself feel less bad about that decision. I told myself that G, one of my old clients, had either made the exact same mistake or had suggested that I make the decision I'd made. And he was a smart guy. So why should I feel stupid about my mistake?
I had finally descended to the ground. I charged away, trying to find my mother so that I could respond to her with what I'd remembered. All this time I had the image of my old boss BB in the back of my head.
I was now in a grocery store. I was in the far back, far right corner of the store (as one would face the front of the store). Or -- I may have been in the far back, toward the center of the store. The grocery store was huge, like a Walmart. But it felt old and worn-out. There was barely anybody in the store. And all the lights may have been off, so that there was only a dimmish, yellow-grey light coming from the window walls at the front of the store.
I now told myself that my mom always used to do stuff like this to me when I was young. When she did something I thought I should criticize, I would. Then she'd get angry at me and shout out mean things about me personally to make me ashamed of myself. (I don't think this is necessarily true in waking life.) She was doing the same thing to me now. I told myself to guard myself against this and not to let it bother me.
But I now had an idea. I'd say something to my mom that would really hurt her! I was standing in the laundry detergent aisle of the store, still holding the empty cheese box in my hands, probably cuddling it up to my chest. I knew my mom was sitting at some little dining area right at the front of the store. I ran to the front of the store and found my mom sitting at a booth table with red seats and a white table top.
I jumped into the booth seat across from her. I then leaned over the table and whispered in my mom's ear, "I'm either going to move back to New York or I'm going to kill myself." I backed down into my seat and laughed a little.
But suddenly I felt stupid for what I'd said. Of course, I hadn't meant any of it. And, how was it supposed to hurt my mom? There was no way I could get back to New York, even though I missed the place terribly. And by threatening my own life in front of somebody, I risked getting thrown into a hospital.
Dream #4
I was in a bedroom with my ex-girlfriend H. H was wearing a long skirt. The bedroom was really small and tight, and I was sitting on the bed. Suddenly H lay, stomach down, over my lap, like she was expecting to get a spanking.
Just as suddenly, the bedroom door flew open, and a gust of wind blew H's skirt all the way up. H wasn't wearing any underwear, and her bottom (which was kind of huge) was in full view. A few small boys wearing baseball caps stood looking into the room. I was either trying to think of a way to close the door on them or hoping that they'd just go away and forget what they'd seen.
Dream #5
It was a grey day. My brother and I were standing out on a huge street that was a part of an enormous crossing of highways. We stood on one of the ground-level roads. But there were three or four levels of roads on winding, twisting bridges above us. The streets were all either empty or else so quiet that we weren't worried about standing out in the middle of the road.
My brother and I were down in South America. We were actually citizens of some South American country. But somehow we'd gotten our location all confused. We were now trying to get back home. I, in particular, was a bit upset. We were in one country (Venezuela?) when we were trying to get to another country (Argentina?), and I was mad at the first country, like it was the entire country's fault that I was inside of it.
So, in spite, I started throwing black pebbles at a street sign. The street sign was just one long, horizontal green strip with white writing on it (like a United States street sign). It said "Buenos Aires - 3," even though I'm pretty sure we weren't in Argentina.
I started to have the idea that if I could throw the black pebbles hard enough at the sign, they'd actually pierce the sign. This would create a dimensional hole. I could then travel through the dimensional hole to get back to my correct country. I think my brother caught onto this idea. He started throwing pebbles, too.
But now we were in the living room of my current apartment (or some place pretty close to it). The Buenos Aires sign was still in front of us, and we were still throwing pebbles at it, still trying to break through into another dimension. But we'd run out of black pebbles. I looked at the floor. There were a lot of big rocks. I may have been uncertain of whether rocks would work. Then I thought, Well, they must work. They're bigger than the pebbles. They'll burst right through the sign!
Dream #6
I was sitting on a couch in a living room. The living room was actually like two living rooms set side by side. I sat in the living room that was farther back from the front door. Other than the couch, there was little or no furniture in this room.
A few kids started playing around in the room. There may have been an older girl or a young woman playing with a little girl. But somehow I got the responsibility of taking care of the little girl. I didn't mind this -- in fact, I thought I was better at taking care of the little girl than anyone else could have been.
The little girl sat down beside me on the couch. We were watching another set of little kids playing. Most of the kids were boys, but there may have been one girl. The girl seemed to be really delicate. But somehow I managed to do something to make the little girl feel good about herself.
The boys had run off to play something else. The little girl was either there or not there. It may have been like -- somehow -- she'd joined together with the little girl who was sitting on the couch. The little girl on the couch was maybe three years old. But now she complimented me on the way I dealt with children. She spoke like an adult. Even her vocal intonations were mature.
I wasn't amazed. I think I was seeing the little girl as a little girl but reacting to her as if she were an adult, like a high-up business woman whom I was trying to impress. I told the little girl, "Well, you know, it' no big deal. What my philosophy is, is treat kids like adults. Assume that they can understand everything an adult can understand. And they'll be thankful to you for it. They'll feel better about themselves because they'll feel like they're more in control of their own lives."
The little girl and I were both sitting on one of the short ends of the couch, as if the couch no longer had any arms! My knees were almost touching a small table with a lamp on it. The little girl and I both seemed to be geared up for an interesting conversation. But now my mom walked up from the other living room. She'd said something to the little girl which kind of reinforced the fact that my mom, and not I, was taking care of the little girl.
The little girl (whom I now may occasionally have seen as a young woman, attractive, with copper-colored skin and raven-black hair) tried to compromise with my mom by trying to combine my conversation with the conversation my mom had started. The little girl said, "That makes me think, maybe we should go to the video store and check out that French film, Les Galans, and that other film, -----."
My mom was still in the other living room. On the right wall (my right) was an entertainment center. On the left wall were a couch and some other pieces of furniture. My mom stood at an end table near us and rifled through a big pile of clutter. She said, "Nope. We can't do that. We can't go to the video store anymore. We still have a video of theirs."
My mom pulled a video cassette case out of the pile of clutter and held it before our faces. The case looked like it was from Blockbuster Video. But the front of it was a design for the front of the original case for a video cassette. The movie the case was for was some kind of anime. A pretty, blonde girl stood in front of some city scene. The girl may also have been standing by her car, a sleek, red sports car.
The little girl/young woman asked, "Can't we just take that video back and pick up a new one?"
My mom said, "No. This video was checked out by ---- (some young woman who was apparently a friend of the family). But she left today. She ----- (either moved away permanently or went away for a few days?) just this morning."
The little girl/young woman said, "Oh... So we can't do anything with that card without ----- being here. I see."
***
UPDATE: A discussion of some of the images from these dreams can be found at this entry in my dreamday journal.
UPDATE 2: Added drawings to dream #5 and dream #6, August 1, 2012, 2:43 PM, Mountain Standard Time.
Friday, July 13, 2012
new youtube feature; desert spiral
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was out at a busy street intersection in a suburban neighborhood. It was probably mid-afternoon, and the sun was behind a few patches of clouds.
But I was more concerned with some conversation I was having, probably with a young woman and an older woman. The conversation was in my head. I kept having visions cloud my sight, too. The conversation was all about some new (???) feature YouTube was adding. The feature would allow you to put your drawings onto a video. You could then also put music behind the video.
I was thinking of putting some of my own drawings onto YouTube using this new feature. I may have been planning out how to put everything on. My visions were probably of drawings that I'd made.
Dream #2
A woman was driving a car down a road in a small desert town on a summer day. I was probably in the car with the woman. The woman was something like a sales person for a brokerage firm. She was complaining about something that was going on at her firm. She thought she might quit.
We drove past a kind of official looking building -- like a government building built in the mid-twentieth century. It was probably a weird mix of brick boxiness and an older style, with odd, stray, white pilasters. After the official building, we were on the outskirts of town. We drove along a bare patch of desert for a bit. Then we were at some kind of factory, like a gravel mill or asphalt factory, with the conveyor belt that takes the material up to the top of some silo.
The woman was talking about some aspect of her job that was particularly annoying her. The way the woman was talking about it, it seemed like this problem could wreck the whole company. The woman may have wanted to talk to somebody about it. But she might not have thought it was any use.
The scene started over again, except that this time we were deeper into the heart of the small desert town. I first heard a narrator talk about desert towns like this that had been doing very well a few decades ago. The narrator asked, "What made these towns go bad? What caused their downfall?"
The woman and I now approached a T-like intersection. We turned left and were driving past the official building again. This time the woman seemed to be talking to somebody. It may have been like she was on the phone with somebody. It may also have been like she was actually talking to somebody at her office, while she was at her office -- like she was in two places at once, and I could see, or at least feel, both places. The woman was still complaining about the bad stuff going on at her work.
We drove past the barren patch of desert. When we reached the factory, the woman stopped the car. She had received some phone call or some kind of notification saying that she needed to get out of the car and get information. The woman got out. I stayed in the car.
The woman was now walking back to the car. For some reason, I was turned around in the front seat, sitting down on the floor, so that most of my body was down in the foot area, and just my chest and arms were resting on the seat. The woman wasn't in the car yet. But I could hear her talking to somebody. She was saying, "Great. This is just great! I just lost a client. That client did 600 meetings through us last year!"
At first this didn't make sense. How could one client do 600 meetings? Then I realized that a big client could have a number of people as contacts. The contacts could meet with each of the various people at the brokerage firm. And, even if a single person from the client's firm only met with someone at our firm a few times a year, all the meetings would add up. 600 meetings was possible. That meant a lot of money. And that was a lot of money to lose.
The woman was now criticizing me. She said something like, "And I'd expect Preemie to stand up for me a little, and help me deal with some of the things people are doing really wrong around here. But will Preemie stand up? No! He'd rather just hang around, being all distracted, and acting like a little kid!"
I felt ashamed of myself. But I looked at what I was doing in the car. I was still seated in that backwards, on-the-floor way. I was now flipping through some pages of a top-bound, gum-bound notebook. I was shocked. I'd thought this notebook had been all used up. But as I looked through it, I saw that some of the pages had only two or three words on them. The rest of the page would be blank. And the two or three words on the page were always kind of nonsense, silly little phrases that obviously had nothing to do with work.
I was now in a bedroom. It felt like I was still in the desert. The bedroom was yellow with summer light. I had been sitting or laying on the floor. I stood up. I might have seen just a little bit out of a window to my right. I may have seen out to a sandy beach, with the ocean rolling slightly under a swaying breeze.
I turned to my left and looked into a wide, roomy closet. I had either just finished doing laundry or just received a pile of finished laundry from someone. The laundry now all lay on the top shelf of the closet, just above my eye level. I was going to start sorting and folding it.
But I noticed two shirts that weren't mine. The shirts belonged to my brother-in-law. Both shirts were button-up. They may both have been short sleeved. One was grey with orange, flame-like patterns running up it. The other may have been white with black patterns.
I didn't want anybody to think that I was trying to wear my brother-in-law's clothes. I didn't want anybody to think I was trying to be my brother-in-law. I also didn't want anybody to think that I was sexually attracted to my brother-in-law by my having his clothes in my bedroom. So I quickly brought the two shirts out to the living room.
The living room was big and dim, but kind of plain-looking, almost like the living room in a double-wide trailer. The back of the couch faced the hallway and kind of made a border to the living room. My sister, and probably my mom, stood before the couch. Walking up behind the couch, I threw the two shirts onto the top edge of the couch, with a pile of laundry that already lay there. My sister may have asked me a questions, which I may have answered.
I was now back in the car with the woman from the brokerage firm. We were just driving beside the official building. This time the woman was a little more determined. She was saying she was going to do something to change the way things were at the office. I felt determined, too. I felt like I was going to change things, too. I may even have said that I was going to change things.
Suddenly the car stopped. I could hear a young man's voice saying, "Nope! No, no, no."
My view faded into the view of a bedroom. I was laying on the floor, in a pile of blankets. The young man was sitting in a big, stuffed chair to my right, just at about where my shoulders and head were. The young man was skinny, kind of pale, and a little nerdy looking. She was curled up in the chair, with his knees up to his chest. He may have been wearing some chunky eyeglasses.
The young man told me something like, "Nope. You can't go anywhere yet. You're not ready." His reasoning for my not being ready may have been that I didn't have a good enough knowledge of the Spanish language yet.
Apparently the young man was like a guide for me. I was just starting college, and he had been here for a couple of years. So he was going to show me the ropes. He was a lot younger than I, and I thought that his way of acting like he knew more than I was kind of cute. So I decided to humor him and let him think he was my guide. I figured I would get away from him as soon as I could.
In addition to the Spanish he'd already mentioned, the young man told me a few things I'd need to know before I could really go around and do things. One of the things may have been Latin. The other thing, which the young man told me about like it was a great secret, was "COGS."
I wondered why COGS was such a secret. I wondered what it could mean. I said, "Isn't COGS just cost of goods--"
The young man shushed me. He shook his head and said something like, "It's a secret. You're not ready to know it yet." He then pointed over to the right side (his right) of the chair.
I assented. I thought, Well, then it couldn't be what I thought it was. Maybe it had something to do with Spanish or Latin.
But now the young man stood up out of his chair. He may have been carrying a couple of very large straws, like for drinking soda. He walked around to my right side and knelt beside me. He whispered in my ear. "It's a secret. But I'll go ahead and tell you what it is."
The young man now stood up and walked back over to the chair. He reached over the right side of the chair and pulled out a can of Pepsi and a cup of jalapenos. I understood that the young man was going to mix the two things together. I said, "Oh, pepper-flavored Pepsi! That's a great idea!"
The young man didn't mix the Pepsi and the jalapenos. It was more like they just became a new can of Pepsi, a pepper-flavored Pepsi. The young man may actually have had two cans like this.
Two little children, a boy and a girl, came into the room. They jumped up on the chair with the young man. The young man's chair was now very big -- or it may have been broken into three pieces, so that the young man sat on the chair piece, while the two kids sat on something like footstools that faced the young man. And the chairs seemed to be elevated, like they were at the top of a pole. I myself was now elevated, like I was looking at everything from the top bunk of a bunk bed.
The young man held two cans of pepper Pepsi. He had a long straw in each can. The kids took a straw and tasted the Pepsi. Neither kid really liked it. The boy thought it was awful. It may even have been so hot that it burned his mouth. But the girl just thought it tasted kind of funny. She may actually have made a suggestion for making it taste better.
But now the kids were both really tired. So the young man decided that it was time for them to go to bed. The young man left the room. The kids each got onto a bed. The beds were all cluttered with bedding and other stuff. The lights in the bedroom stayed on.
I kind of lost interest in the boy. I watched the little girl as she got into bed. I thought the little girl was cute. For some reason I thought that the little girl was attracted to me, and that she wanted to get my attention. She'd do things like shift around in her bed, trying to get into the same position in her bed that I was in in my bed. I was flattered, and I thought it was really cute. So, without exactly responding to her, I would smile and chuckle a little.
I think at this point, my mother may have been in my bed, too, sitting with her back against the wall and her legs on top of my legs, over my blanket. My bed was cluttered with a lot of stuff, too, like the kids' beds. My mom may just have seemed like a part of the clutter.
I was looking at a few different clothing catalogs. Some of them may have been lingerie catalogs. But none of the catalogs used actual models. They all used mannequins, either full or partial mannequins. And sometimes, the mannequins were arranged in circle or star patterns, or other patterns that made the brightly-colored clothing they wore look more like paint samples.
I thought all the clothing the mannequins wore was sexy, in a kind of cheap way. The fabric was all cheap, and the colors were way gaudy. But I liked the feeling of being cheap like that. And I was thinking I might like some of those female fashions or lingerie for myself.
The little girl was still shifting around in the bed. But now she had a big beanbag chair propped up behind her back. There may even have been a parasol propped into the back of the beanbag chair. I thought to myself, Wow, that girl really is trying to lay down exactly in the position that I'm laying down in! But now I started to wonder whether that was true.
Finally, I think the little girl was annoyed by my constantly looking over at her. She called out for somebody, maybe a man. I realized that the little girl was trying to lay down in bed exactly like some man she was attracted to. The man was a real man: a strong, tough man. The little girl wanted the man in bed with her. And sometimes he would come around to be with her. But when he couldn't, she would try to lay down in bed exactly like he did.
I don't think the man was around. But I heard my sister come in the door, possibly with her best friend. The little girl was so happy to hear my sister come in the door that she shouted with glee. I stood up out of bed and walked into the hallway. My sister and her best friend were just walking into the house. They were in the living room, which was at the end of the long, long hallway. They may have sat down a bunch of shopping bags.
I knew that my sister hadn't eaten yet. But it was some holiday, and my mom had fixed some kind of sausage stew. There was a whole, big pot of the stew, I knew, in the kitchen. So I walked into the kitchen to tell my sister about it. As I waited for my sister to come into the kitchen, I kind of felt hungry myself. So I thought I would grab myself a bowl of the sausage stew.
My sister came into the kitchen. She was holding a tall, clear drinking glass full of sausage stew. I told my sister that our mom had fixed sausage stew for the holiday. My sister said she knew. My sister told me a few other things that made me understand that while my sister had been away (maybe at work?) she had worried that everybody would have eaten the sausage stew, and that there would be none for her. My sister had even brought herself a glass of sausage stew (from her work?) in case there wasn't any left at home.
But I knew there was plenty of stew here. We stood beside the fridge. There was a huge pot beside the fridge. There was also, I thought, a huge pot inside the fridge. And I was pretty sure there was a huge pot on the counter opposite the fridge.
I was still trying to get myself a bowl of stew. But, even while she was still talking to me rather calmly, as I went to grab some stew out of the pot by the fridge, my sister clamped her hand down on my arm, forcing it down to the counter and keeping me immobile. I knew she was trying to get me to be considerate and wait until she'd gotten some stew before I went back for more. But I struggled and struggled with my sister. Finally my sister either just gave up or disappeared.
I felt bad that I'd struggled with my sister. I looked at the pot of stew. It really didn't look like there was much left. I opened the fridge, looking for the other pot of stew. But there was no stew in the fridge.
The fridge didn't close all the way. There was a huge plastic bin of food on the floor keeping the fridge door open. The food was all in baggies. I couldn't tell what it was. So I pulled it out and looked at it, thinking that maybe I shouldn't have any more stew, but that, if I could find something else good to eat, I would. I sat the big bin on the counter. But, looking closely, I could see that the baggies were all full of stuff like jellybeans. I realized this was just stuff for my sister's children's school lunches.
I put the bin back. I started looking for the pots of stew again. But I couldn't find anything. Eventually I somehow ended up getting distracted by a computer screen that was maybe at the back end of the kitchen. There was some internet page up. The page had a black background and purplish lettering. The page was all about food people ate on whatever holiday this was. There was a photo of sausage stew. Suddenly sausage stew filled my field of view -- kind of all stretched out, like it was being wobbled through an anamorphic lens.
I was now in a big, very nice living room with my mom, my sister, my brother-in-law, and a couple of their friends. The room was filled with yellow light. The living room opened up to another spacious room that I couldn't quite see. Everybody seemed to be coming out of that room.
My mom said something like, "RC from our old neighborhood died. He had a kidney issue. It was fatal. The doctors knew it. It started with the digestion. Then he had a quick, acute pain, and he went unconscious. The doctors always know, with a quick, acute pain, that the kidney issue is fatal. If it's something they can cure, you generally don't feel the pain first."
My brother-in-law asked, "Oh, really? So if you feel the pain, then you know the kidney disease is fatal? And you go unconscious, too? Well, what I also heard was it was in the digestion. His digestion was really bad. He ate really terribly."
I imagined the "kidney" being something more like an appendix, or like some kind of little knob coming off of the intestines. I imagined it getting bright yellow.
***
UPDATE: Added two drawings to dream #2, July 13, 2012, 2:05 PM, Mountain Standard Time.
Dream #1
I was out at a busy street intersection in a suburban neighborhood. It was probably mid-afternoon, and the sun was behind a few patches of clouds.
But I was more concerned with some conversation I was having, probably with a young woman and an older woman. The conversation was in my head. I kept having visions cloud my sight, too. The conversation was all about some new (???) feature YouTube was adding. The feature would allow you to put your drawings onto a video. You could then also put music behind the video.
I was thinking of putting some of my own drawings onto YouTube using this new feature. I may have been planning out how to put everything on. My visions were probably of drawings that I'd made.
Dream #2
A woman was driving a car down a road in a small desert town on a summer day. I was probably in the car with the woman. The woman was something like a sales person for a brokerage firm. She was complaining about something that was going on at her firm. She thought she might quit.
We drove past a kind of official looking building -- like a government building built in the mid-twentieth century. It was probably a weird mix of brick boxiness and an older style, with odd, stray, white pilasters. After the official building, we were on the outskirts of town. We drove along a bare patch of desert for a bit. Then we were at some kind of factory, like a gravel mill or asphalt factory, with the conveyor belt that takes the material up to the top of some silo.
The woman was talking about some aspect of her job that was particularly annoying her. The way the woman was talking about it, it seemed like this problem could wreck the whole company. The woman may have wanted to talk to somebody about it. But she might not have thought it was any use.
The scene started over again, except that this time we were deeper into the heart of the small desert town. I first heard a narrator talk about desert towns like this that had been doing very well a few decades ago. The narrator asked, "What made these towns go bad? What caused their downfall?"
The woman and I now approached a T-like intersection. We turned left and were driving past the official building again. This time the woman seemed to be talking to somebody. It may have been like she was on the phone with somebody. It may also have been like she was actually talking to somebody at her office, while she was at her office -- like she was in two places at once, and I could see, or at least feel, both places. The woman was still complaining about the bad stuff going on at her work.
We drove past the barren patch of desert. When we reached the factory, the woman stopped the car. She had received some phone call or some kind of notification saying that she needed to get out of the car and get information. The woman got out. I stayed in the car.
The woman was now walking back to the car. For some reason, I was turned around in the front seat, sitting down on the floor, so that most of my body was down in the foot area, and just my chest and arms were resting on the seat. The woman wasn't in the car yet. But I could hear her talking to somebody. She was saying, "Great. This is just great! I just lost a client. That client did 600 meetings through us last year!"
At first this didn't make sense. How could one client do 600 meetings? Then I realized that a big client could have a number of people as contacts. The contacts could meet with each of the various people at the brokerage firm. And, even if a single person from the client's firm only met with someone at our firm a few times a year, all the meetings would add up. 600 meetings was possible. That meant a lot of money. And that was a lot of money to lose.
The woman was now criticizing me. She said something like, "And I'd expect Preemie to stand up for me a little, and help me deal with some of the things people are doing really wrong around here. But will Preemie stand up? No! He'd rather just hang around, being all distracted, and acting like a little kid!"
I felt ashamed of myself. But I looked at what I was doing in the car. I was still seated in that backwards, on-the-floor way. I was now flipping through some pages of a top-bound, gum-bound notebook. I was shocked. I'd thought this notebook had been all used up. But as I looked through it, I saw that some of the pages had only two or three words on them. The rest of the page would be blank. And the two or three words on the page were always kind of nonsense, silly little phrases that obviously had nothing to do with work.
I was now in a bedroom. It felt like I was still in the desert. The bedroom was yellow with summer light. I had been sitting or laying on the floor. I stood up. I might have seen just a little bit out of a window to my right. I may have seen out to a sandy beach, with the ocean rolling slightly under a swaying breeze.
I turned to my left and looked into a wide, roomy closet. I had either just finished doing laundry or just received a pile of finished laundry from someone. The laundry now all lay on the top shelf of the closet, just above my eye level. I was going to start sorting and folding it.
But I noticed two shirts that weren't mine. The shirts belonged to my brother-in-law. Both shirts were button-up. They may both have been short sleeved. One was grey with orange, flame-like patterns running up it. The other may have been white with black patterns.
I didn't want anybody to think that I was trying to wear my brother-in-law's clothes. I didn't want anybody to think I was trying to be my brother-in-law. I also didn't want anybody to think that I was sexually attracted to my brother-in-law by my having his clothes in my bedroom. So I quickly brought the two shirts out to the living room.
The living room was big and dim, but kind of plain-looking, almost like the living room in a double-wide trailer. The back of the couch faced the hallway and kind of made a border to the living room. My sister, and probably my mom, stood before the couch. Walking up behind the couch, I threw the two shirts onto the top edge of the couch, with a pile of laundry that already lay there. My sister may have asked me a questions, which I may have answered.
I was now back in the car with the woman from the brokerage firm. We were just driving beside the official building. This time the woman was a little more determined. She was saying she was going to do something to change the way things were at the office. I felt determined, too. I felt like I was going to change things, too. I may even have said that I was going to change things.
Suddenly the car stopped. I could hear a young man's voice saying, "Nope! No, no, no."
My view faded into the view of a bedroom. I was laying on the floor, in a pile of blankets. The young man was sitting in a big, stuffed chair to my right, just at about where my shoulders and head were. The young man was skinny, kind of pale, and a little nerdy looking. She was curled up in the chair, with his knees up to his chest. He may have been wearing some chunky eyeglasses.
The young man told me something like, "Nope. You can't go anywhere yet. You're not ready." His reasoning for my not being ready may have been that I didn't have a good enough knowledge of the Spanish language yet.
Apparently the young man was like a guide for me. I was just starting college, and he had been here for a couple of years. So he was going to show me the ropes. He was a lot younger than I, and I thought that his way of acting like he knew more than I was kind of cute. So I decided to humor him and let him think he was my guide. I figured I would get away from him as soon as I could.
In addition to the Spanish he'd already mentioned, the young man told me a few things I'd need to know before I could really go around and do things. One of the things may have been Latin. The other thing, which the young man told me about like it was a great secret, was "COGS."
I wondered why COGS was such a secret. I wondered what it could mean. I said, "Isn't COGS just cost of goods--"
The young man shushed me. He shook his head and said something like, "It's a secret. You're not ready to know it yet." He then pointed over to the right side (his right) of the chair.
I assented. I thought, Well, then it couldn't be what I thought it was. Maybe it had something to do with Spanish or Latin.
But now the young man stood up out of his chair. He may have been carrying a couple of very large straws, like for drinking soda. He walked around to my right side and knelt beside me. He whispered in my ear. "It's a secret. But I'll go ahead and tell you what it is."
The young man now stood up and walked back over to the chair. He reached over the right side of the chair and pulled out a can of Pepsi and a cup of jalapenos. I understood that the young man was going to mix the two things together. I said, "Oh, pepper-flavored Pepsi! That's a great idea!"
The young man didn't mix the Pepsi and the jalapenos. It was more like they just became a new can of Pepsi, a pepper-flavored Pepsi. The young man may actually have had two cans like this.
Two little children, a boy and a girl, came into the room. They jumped up on the chair with the young man. The young man's chair was now very big -- or it may have been broken into three pieces, so that the young man sat on the chair piece, while the two kids sat on something like footstools that faced the young man. And the chairs seemed to be elevated, like they were at the top of a pole. I myself was now elevated, like I was looking at everything from the top bunk of a bunk bed.
The young man held two cans of pepper Pepsi. He had a long straw in each can. The kids took a straw and tasted the Pepsi. Neither kid really liked it. The boy thought it was awful. It may even have been so hot that it burned his mouth. But the girl just thought it tasted kind of funny. She may actually have made a suggestion for making it taste better.
But now the kids were both really tired. So the young man decided that it was time for them to go to bed. The young man left the room. The kids each got onto a bed. The beds were all cluttered with bedding and other stuff. The lights in the bedroom stayed on.
I kind of lost interest in the boy. I watched the little girl as she got into bed. I thought the little girl was cute. For some reason I thought that the little girl was attracted to me, and that she wanted to get my attention. She'd do things like shift around in her bed, trying to get into the same position in her bed that I was in in my bed. I was flattered, and I thought it was really cute. So, without exactly responding to her, I would smile and chuckle a little.
I think at this point, my mother may have been in my bed, too, sitting with her back against the wall and her legs on top of my legs, over my blanket. My bed was cluttered with a lot of stuff, too, like the kids' beds. My mom may just have seemed like a part of the clutter.
I was looking at a few different clothing catalogs. Some of them may have been lingerie catalogs. But none of the catalogs used actual models. They all used mannequins, either full or partial mannequins. And sometimes, the mannequins were arranged in circle or star patterns, or other patterns that made the brightly-colored clothing they wore look more like paint samples.
I thought all the clothing the mannequins wore was sexy, in a kind of cheap way. The fabric was all cheap, and the colors were way gaudy. But I liked the feeling of being cheap like that. And I was thinking I might like some of those female fashions or lingerie for myself.
The little girl was still shifting around in the bed. But now she had a big beanbag chair propped up behind her back. There may even have been a parasol propped into the back of the beanbag chair. I thought to myself, Wow, that girl really is trying to lay down exactly in the position that I'm laying down in! But now I started to wonder whether that was true.
Finally, I think the little girl was annoyed by my constantly looking over at her. She called out for somebody, maybe a man. I realized that the little girl was trying to lay down in bed exactly like some man she was attracted to. The man was a real man: a strong, tough man. The little girl wanted the man in bed with her. And sometimes he would come around to be with her. But when he couldn't, she would try to lay down in bed exactly like he did.
I don't think the man was around. But I heard my sister come in the door, possibly with her best friend. The little girl was so happy to hear my sister come in the door that she shouted with glee. I stood up out of bed and walked into the hallway. My sister and her best friend were just walking into the house. They were in the living room, which was at the end of the long, long hallway. They may have sat down a bunch of shopping bags.
I knew that my sister hadn't eaten yet. But it was some holiday, and my mom had fixed some kind of sausage stew. There was a whole, big pot of the stew, I knew, in the kitchen. So I walked into the kitchen to tell my sister about it. As I waited for my sister to come into the kitchen, I kind of felt hungry myself. So I thought I would grab myself a bowl of the sausage stew.
My sister came into the kitchen. She was holding a tall, clear drinking glass full of sausage stew. I told my sister that our mom had fixed sausage stew for the holiday. My sister said she knew. My sister told me a few other things that made me understand that while my sister had been away (maybe at work?) she had worried that everybody would have eaten the sausage stew, and that there would be none for her. My sister had even brought herself a glass of sausage stew (from her work?) in case there wasn't any left at home.
But I knew there was plenty of stew here. We stood beside the fridge. There was a huge pot beside the fridge. There was also, I thought, a huge pot inside the fridge. And I was pretty sure there was a huge pot on the counter opposite the fridge.
I was still trying to get myself a bowl of stew. But, even while she was still talking to me rather calmly, as I went to grab some stew out of the pot by the fridge, my sister clamped her hand down on my arm, forcing it down to the counter and keeping me immobile. I knew she was trying to get me to be considerate and wait until she'd gotten some stew before I went back for more. But I struggled and struggled with my sister. Finally my sister either just gave up or disappeared.
I felt bad that I'd struggled with my sister. I looked at the pot of stew. It really didn't look like there was much left. I opened the fridge, looking for the other pot of stew. But there was no stew in the fridge.
The fridge didn't close all the way. There was a huge plastic bin of food on the floor keeping the fridge door open. The food was all in baggies. I couldn't tell what it was. So I pulled it out and looked at it, thinking that maybe I shouldn't have any more stew, but that, if I could find something else good to eat, I would. I sat the big bin on the counter. But, looking closely, I could see that the baggies were all full of stuff like jellybeans. I realized this was just stuff for my sister's children's school lunches.
I put the bin back. I started looking for the pots of stew again. But I couldn't find anything. Eventually I somehow ended up getting distracted by a computer screen that was maybe at the back end of the kitchen. There was some internet page up. The page had a black background and purplish lettering. The page was all about food people ate on whatever holiday this was. There was a photo of sausage stew. Suddenly sausage stew filled my field of view -- kind of all stretched out, like it was being wobbled through an anamorphic lens.
I was now in a big, very nice living room with my mom, my sister, my brother-in-law, and a couple of their friends. The room was filled with yellow light. The living room opened up to another spacious room that I couldn't quite see. Everybody seemed to be coming out of that room.
My mom said something like, "RC from our old neighborhood died. He had a kidney issue. It was fatal. The doctors knew it. It started with the digestion. Then he had a quick, acute pain, and he went unconscious. The doctors always know, with a quick, acute pain, that the kidney issue is fatal. If it's something they can cure, you generally don't feel the pain first."
My brother-in-law asked, "Oh, really? So if you feel the pain, then you know the kidney disease is fatal? And you go unconscious, too? Well, what I also heard was it was in the digestion. His digestion was really bad. He ate really terribly."
I imagined the "kidney" being something more like an appendix, or like some kind of little knob coming off of the intestines. I imagined it getting bright yellow.
***
UPDATE: Added two drawings to dream #2, July 13, 2012, 2:05 PM, Mountain Standard Time.
Friday, June 1, 2012
picking up a photographer; disappointing a girl
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was in some building like a nice community center. I could see down a staircase and into a rather large basement. There was some event, like an art show, being set up down there. I may have come here at this time thinking the event was already in progress.
I walked down into the basement. I feel now that the basement looked like a big conference room in a nice hotel. Most of the booths or tables were still getting set up. But one of the tables seemed mostly set up already.
I walked over there. The artist running the booth was a pretty girl, maybe in her mid-twenties. She was sat back in a chair, probably stretching her legs out on another chair.
The booth mostly displayed works of photography. I looked closely at the photographs. They were in black and white, though some of the black and white my have been painted over (?) in one solid color for each photo. Some pieces had really small photos bordered by huge pieces of solid colored paper. In particular I remember one pink photo surrounded by a dullish pink paper border.
I asked the woman about the photographs. It became apparent the woman thought I was cute (???). I felt like she wanted me to hit on her. But I didn't seem able to work the conversation around to doing it at all.
Somehow the woman and I got talking about the source of these photos. It turned out that a lot, if not all, of these photos had been made by the woman's mother and father. Both the woman's mother and father had died. At first I thought only one of the parents had died. But I eventually come to a somewhat certain understanding that they'd both died.
I knew I was really screwing up, if I was planning to hit on this girl, by bringing up the deaths of her parents. But we seemed to keep talking about it now.
I turned around and looked at some frames on the opposite side of the booth. The frames were all wooden, with solid backs, so they looked like wooden tea trays tipped up onto their sides. Some of them looked very unfinished. Others were finished and had nice, little, ornamental paintings in a kind of folk art style.
I could see that around the corner from where I was was a much larger exhibition area. It actually looked like a big convention hall. It seemed to be above ground, and some high-up windows let in a bright, greyish light. The big area was all set up, and it seemed pretty busy.
Dream #2
I was in some kind of room. A little girl was sat down somewhere, possibly on a single step at the edge of the room. The room was small and square and mostly empty. But on all the walls of the room were pieces of paper, kind of like different colored (mostly girly colored) construction paper, with writing on it.
All of the writings were things explaining some situation in my life to me. It was like a breakup or some other kind of disappointing change in my life. The writings were all there to explain things to me in a way that wouldn't hurt my feelings.
One of the writings came to have something to do with the little girl. It was like the little girl had been my girlfriend. But now she had run off with some other little girl, and the two little girls were lesbian lovers. My little girlfriend's decision to leave me probably had something to do with my making less money nowadays.
But some other people, possibly on behalf of the little girl, were standing behind me, explaining what I'd just read. What I'd read had already been written in a very kind and gentle style. But the people behind me, sensing my disappointment, we re-explaining things to me in a way, they hoped, would make me feel less like my little girlfriend had run off on me.
I may now have felt like I needed to explain the writings to the little girl. I had a feeling, though, that when I told her what I'd read, she'd be very disappointed in me. So I was trying to find a really gentle way of breaking it to her.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)