the sinister force; mashed potatoes; cliffhanger

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A group of people (I may have been among them, or I may have been in the scene, but passively viewing it, like watching a movie) were in some desert building. The building may have been some kind of bunker or military building from the 1940s, or it may have been an old, desert house.

The people were some kind of official workers. They were here on an investigation. They were trying to get beyond one door, possibly a door leading down to a basement. The door was probably in the kitchen, which was bright with natural light.

The men finally decided to blow up the door using a large amount of explosives. They set up a canister as big as an oil barrel against the old, thick, wooden door. The canister may have had the force of 620 XXXXX (something I can't remember).

The men went outside the house during the blast. They crouched behind a wooden structure built like a mix between a horse trough and a well house. The men may all have been wearing leather trench coats an old style gas masks for protection.

The explosion occurred. It was supposed to have been intense, but I don't remember it at all. The men may have been expecting to uncover some dangerous criminal, or the things he'd stolen. But they'd released something much worse: some kind of sinister, demonic force.

I had a view of this force rising through the surrounds like a green gel or a green light, which then subsided back to the ground.

The men were all still standing around outside. They knew that the demonic force, though its eventual goal may have had to do with attacking all of society, was first concerned with attacking one specific woman. The men needed to protect the woman. But they couldn't, for some reason, tell her they were protecting her.

The woman was here among the men. She was a glamorous, 1940s style woman. She was so elated that the door had been open that she said she was going to run all the way somewhere, maybe all the way to the nearest (small) town. The woman ran away along a ridge of rocky soil that rose a couple meters above the flat ground.

The men thought this might be convenient. If the woman ran fast enough, she might be able to evade the spread of the sinister force. And if she stayed in town, the sinister force couldn't attack her. Then the men wouldn't have to explain anything to her.

But now the woman had turned around and was running back toward the house. It turned out that she had only been kidding. She wasn't actually going to run off anywhere.

The men now knew the woman was in danger of being attacked by the sinister force. I thought she may already have been attacked by it. Her running off and then coming back, apparently out of joy, seemed a little strange to me. I thought her actions might really have been due to the fact that the sinister force was already infecting her mind.

Dream #2

I walked into a house through a side door. I walked into a kitchen that was kind of small and dim and dirty.

There was a pot of potatoes to my right, either on the counter or on the stove top. The potatoes were in a mixture of water and butter. The water wasn't boiling, but the butter was melted and mixed in with the water like the water was boiling.

A young woman, kind of average looking, a little heavy, but pretty, stood just out of my sight somewhere in the kitchen. The woman and I probably lived together, and we were probably lovers.

But the woman had now started having a relationship with some other woman. She was talking to me now about this other woman, not saying right out that she was having an affair with this woman, but saying nice things about the woman to kind of hint that she might be attracted to her.

I had a feeling that the woman was partly trying to conceal the relationship and partly trying to make me jealous of it. Either way, it was annoying. I decided to ignore the woman. Anyway, I thought, if the woman left me, it would be kind of a relief. I didn't like the woman that much, anyway.

I turned my attention to the potatoes. They were really soft. I grabbed a spoon and began fumbling around with some of them. They were all still in their skins, but they were cut in half.

I spooned into some of the potatoes, scooping out all the insides, then mashing them while keeping them in the water. I thought to myself how much I liked eating potatoes like this, especially when they were soaked in butter, like these potatoes were.

I think the woman was still talking, on and on, about the other woman. When the woman noticed I wasn't paying attention, she might have started yelling at me.

Dream #3

It was a grey, cool day. I was riding a bike down some path in the mountains. I was all alone on the trail.

I had come from a pretty far distance in the mountains, and from a pretty high elevation. But now I was heading home. I was just about to hit the edge of the deep moutains. But I still had a ways to go, through the foothills and the city, before I got home.

I rode down a narrow section of path that ran between two tight cliffs of tan stone. At the bottom of that slope was a trail which, I knew, I'd take off to the right. But below that trail another slope went down to a river, which also flowed off to the right.

I got off my bike and went down to the slope. I'd taken off all my clothes except my boxers (in waking life I never wear boxers -- only boxer briefs). I now got into the river. I had a feeling that I could just lay back and let the water carry me downstream. It could carry me, I thought, almost all the way back home.

But I reflected on all of this. It didn't make sense. First of all, the water was really cold. By the time I got to the end of the river, I'd be sick from the coldness of the water. Second, the river wouldn't take me all the way home. I wouldn't have my bike with me. So I'd have to walk. The walk home would make the whole trip a lot longer than it would have been just taking my bike down the path.

So I got out of the river and headed back up toward my bike. After all, I now told myself, I had only gone down to the river to get a little washed up.

But now, for some reason, I'd climbed up a steep rock outcropping to get back up to the trail. There were a few large boulders that took me a lot of effort to scale. After scaling two black boulders I had to scale a really tricky tan-orange one. I could see my bike just over this boulder.

But I was either having a hard time or pretending to have a hard time climbing this boulder. There were a few ledges I kept seeming to swing off of or arch myself forward or backward to reach.

At some point I almost fell from the ledges. I realized that I was actually really high up, and that if I slipped, I'd fall and die. But I was still wet and slippery, and the boulder was, somehow, just as wet and slippery as I.

I slipped and suddenly found myself hanging from a ledge. I knew I was in trouble. But I also felt like I could save myself if I remained calm.

the vanishing pleasure dome

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was with a group of friends in some place like a theme restaurant mixed with an indoor amusement park. The place was enormous. It was divided into a number of small sections. Each section was like a different theme restaurant or theme area for amusement park rides. The sections were mostly connected by a mall-like hallway, although some of the sections also just blended directly into other sections. A lot of the sections were dark, with little gleams of light, like reflections from a mirror ball, floating around the room.

I had broken off from my friends at some point. We'd all been in a restaurant section. I had stood up and walked away. Now I was trying to get back to them. But nothing around me looked familiar anymore. I didn't know what section my friends were in.

I was in the mall-like hallway section for a moment. I knelt or sat down to tie my shoes. When I stood up, I was even more lost than before.

I wandered through some of the interconnected sections, mainly walking through restaurants that seemed like bars, too -- like a lot of people were drunk and partying, or sitting around in booth seats with drinks and talking really loudly. I kept thinking I had happened upon my group of friends. But I never did, and I only felt more and more lost, like I was constantly working my way away from, instead of toward, my friends.

It now seemed like this place was closing down for the day. The sections were all emptying out. Wait staff, dressed like workers at a movie theater, were coming in and cleaning up the sections. Dim lights had come on in most of the sections.

I walked up to one of the wait staff and asked him where my friends were (as if he'd know who and where my friends were?...). The man seemed to know what section my friends had been in, though he probably wasn't sure they were still there. He pointed off to my right, toward a section of mall-like hallway. One of the other waiters confirmed the directions the first waiter had given.

I was now walking around in the mall-like hallway. But the building seemed to be vanishing with each step I took. I suddenly found myself outside, on a slope of almost barren soil. The building still seemed to be vanishing piece by piece, until it was nothing more than a run-down, dirty-boarded house at the top of the slope. An Hispanic woman stood on the porch of the house.

I looked down at the ground. There was a pair of old, white sneakers. I picked up the sneakers. The house had now also disappeared. The only thing, apparently, that was left from the building was the pair of sneakers. And it was like something, some aspect of the building, had concentrated itself into the sneakers.

the steep hill to nowhere; hurtful jokes

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a car with my step-grandmother and my mother. My step-grandmother was driving. We were just coming home after having taken care of something. We were on the highway. We were now somewhere near a confluence of highways. We were trying to figure out what was the best way home.

My grandma may have taken one of the highways by accident, maybe because she'd been distracted by the conversation all three of us had been having. But my grandma had come up with the idea that we were, after all, traveling on the correct road. This may have had to do with the fact that this road was higher than the other roads. In fact, this road may have been a bridge across a wide river.

But at some point we may have decided that we needed to turn off on another road, or we may have been surprised that this road led us in a direction we hadn't expected. Somehow, we ended up going up a hill that was totally unexpected to me.

The hill was incredibly steep. I didn't know if the car could get up the hill. I even feared that the car might tumble over backwards and roll back down the hill. But nobody else in the car seemed surprised by the height and steepness of the hill.

I thought we must have been meant to go up this hill. But when we got to the crest of the hill, the road completely dead ended. The road just ended in mid-air. A thin metal barrier kept cars from driving off the road and plunging far down to the river below.

My grandma decided to pull us into a u-turn. We scraped along the barrier. I was afraid we were going to fall down into the water. I was also disappointed that I hadn't been able to stop us somehow from wasting our time on this road.

Now we were heading down the high, steep hill. But I was tremendously afraid to look at the downward slope. I had no idea how we could control the speed of our downward movement. I was now even more afraid that the car would end up just toppling down the slope.

Dream #2

I was out in some area that looked like a rooftop with my mom and step-grandmother. My grandma and I were in a "car," even though I don't think the car was really there. My mom was out somewhere else. On the rooftop, there was a star-like configuration of black, fake leather seats like dentist's chairs. Just to the left of that configuration there was a house-shaped structure made of cinder blocks: like the structure that tops a stairwell as it exits onto a rooftop.

My grandma and I were driving the "car" around the house-shaped structure. As we drove past the star-shaped configuration, I noticed that each seat had a couple clumps on it. One clump was large, like a couple of wet blankets, maybe inside or covered by something like a wet paper bag. Another clump was a clump of wet, brightly pastel colored yarn.

Something about these clumps made me think of some mass murderer who had been in the news. Maybe the news had reported that the police had found something like these clumps in the mass murderer's house. But for some reason, the memory of this murderer made me start joking with my grandma about the murderer. We then also remembered some kind of voodoo ritual that involved brightly colored clumps like this. So in our jokes we began combining the story of this mass murderer with stories of voodoo rituals.

My mom was getting really upset by these jokes. My mom told me and my grandma to stop making the jokes. But I laughingly disregarded my mom and kept making the jokes.

We rounded the structure and passed the seats and the wet clumps again. This time the clumps, especially the clumps of yarn, were really wet and mildewy. They were kind of gross. For some reason, this made me think more seriously of voodoo rituals. I made a comment to my grandma about how nobody would seriously use a voodoo ritual to kill anybody. I was saying this more because I wanted to rid myself of a feeling of guilt and to remove any suspicion from myself than because I didn't really believe in voodoo.

Now I was starting to feel bad about having said all this stuff in front of my mom. After she'd said she didn't want to hear anymore, I'd only continued saying things because I thought she was being overly sensitive, and I didn't want to give in so easily to her sensitivity. But now I thought that maybe she was really, reasonably, upset by what I'd been joking about.

We rounded the structure again. This time as we passed the seats, my mom lay on one of them. She looked really exhausted and depressed. She even looked like she might die. I was really upset. I thought that the things I'd said had been responsible for putting my mom into this condition. Now I was really sorry for what I'd said.

amusement park waiting room; interview and stationery shop

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in some room like a conference room in what looked like a hotel or convention center but was supposed to be some kind of fun center, like an indoor amusement park. I had been with a small group of people, probably mostly children, led by an older, balding man. But the others had left. The man had told me to wait for him here while he checked on something. He told me he'd be back.

A younger man was now in the room with me. He was kind of getting impatient. But I told the young man that we'd been told to wait, so it was best for us to wait. But then I thought things over. It actually had been a long time since the older man had left me here. I thought maybe I actually should try to find him and see what was going on.

I walked up a floor and onto some balcony-like area overlooking an atrium within the building. There were a lot of people around, all running around and having fun, like they were at an amusement park, even though I couldn't see any amusement park rides.

I saw the man at the end of the walkway with a group of kids. The man saw me and broke off from the group to meet with me. The man said that he was just on his way back to me to tell me that it would be a long time before we would be able to get into the place, and that maybe we were just going to go home.

I wondered about this. It seemed like we were already inside the amusement park. Maybe the man was talking about some special part of the amusement park. But I didn't need to go to some special part. I was happy just riding the regular rides.

The man then told me about some new form of technology the amusement park people were trying to get him, and maybe all of us, to use. He pointed it out to me on some little table to my right. It was like headphones, but it may also have had something to do with an iPod, or maybe even something to do with virtual reality.

Dream #2

I was in a lobby area, waiting for a job interview. I was wearing a business suit. There were a number of young men and women in the lobby with me, all dressed nicely. I was sitting in a chair at the back corner of the lobby area.

The lobby area was wide and airy, with dark brown brick walls and grey-brown carpets. It opened out to a ramp-like hallway leading down, on the left side, to the front entrance to the building, and up, on the right side, to the business offices.

I kept looking down and to my left, like I was waiting to see someone I knew, probably someone altogether unrelated to the interview process. But the young men and women around me were watching me looking for the other person. They all thought I was doing something specifically geared toward impressing the interviewers. So they were all jealous of me and angry at me.

I tried to mellow down these emotions in people by showing how kind I could be to everybody around me. Another interviewee came into the lobby. I stood up and gave that person my seat. Another seat opened up, so I sat there.

Then another person came into the lobby. There was suddenly a desk in the lobby area, so I stood up to let the person have my seat, and I sat down on the desktop. Then for some reason I decided to sit underneath the desk.

I had a big, fat book with me. I tried to start reading it, to get my mind off of all my emotions. But I dropped the book. When I picked it up, the book was bent out of shape a little. I realized how fat the book was, the binding crammed full of old, thin, yellowed pages.

I started imagining what the interviewer might say when he saw what book I was reading. I knew the book was by Sir Walter Scott. The book may have been Rob Roy. I could only see a few hazy details of the plot, but I thought I'd be able to speak about some of the themes of the book, if need be. I felt assured that the interviewer would be pleased with my knowledge of the book, even though if I were actually called to discuss concrete details of the book, I would disappoint horribly.

I was now in a living room, standing before a stereo set, listening to a punk rock album, maybe by the Sex Pistols. I was then in a car, riding through the desert with two or three other guys, and hearing -- maybe in my head, maybe on the car's stereo -- the same Sex Pistols song.

As the song ended, some DJ began speaking about the song, as well as the legendary album (not Never Mind the Bollocks) that the song was on. I now saw a record spinning. The label on the record was red, with two overlapping white ellipse. Where the label was red, there were white block letters; where white, there were red block letters. The letters gave the band name and the record label's name.

As the DJ continued talking, maybe about some more mainstream 1970s pop music group, maybe a Soul or R&B group, my view faded to me and a woman walking down some thoroughfare of shop booths on a sunny day.

The woman, perhaps inspired by what the DJ had said about the 1970s group -- even though I'm not sure she'd actually heard the DJ speaking -- suddenly felt there was something she absolutely needed to get from one of these shops. But I'm not sure if she could remember exactly what the thing was.

We found a display of shoes out in front of one shop to our right. The woman made a beeline toward one of the pairs of shoes: high-heels done in some kind of wicker-basket or weaving style, with wooden heels the same color as the plasticky, "woven" material of the tops. The shoes may have cost $10.

I told the woman that she should get the shoes. Then I picked up the shoes and began concentrating on them myself. Suddenly I realized that the woman was gone. I realized she may even have told me that the shoes weren't what she wanted, but that she'd seen what she was pretty sure she wanted in some other shop nearby.

I walked to a shop to the right of the shoe shop. The front of the shop looked run-down and featureless, like it didn't sell anything worthwhile. But I knew, somehow, that the shop was a stationery shop, and that it had actually been redesigned and filled with a lot of really beautiful stationery. I was pretty sure this was where the woman was.

I walked through some kind of curtains that came from the ceiling down to about my chest. Just beyond the curtains was a small, Japanese woman wearing a navy blue polo shirt and khaki slacks. She told me in kind of broken English that the store was a very good, very beautiful store, even though the storefront still looked a bit messy.

The storefront, even behind the curtain, did look messy, like everything was still under construction. But I could already see inside the store, where there was a lot of really beautiful stationery in all different colors. I felt like the woman didn't need to apologize so politely for the store. I could already see how beautiful it was.

I stepped inside the store. It was enormous! And it was all filled with shelves, walls, and display tables of beautiful, beautifully colored, paper! I just wanted to explore all of the beautiful things here. The store woman was still at my side, willing to act as my guide through the store.

But now I saw my female friend. I pointed out my friend to the woman and said I had to go meet her. But, for some reason, I found myself really uncertain about going up to my friend and reuniting with her. I felt like I wasn't quite sure she was really there.

screwed; hantavirus; statue of trickery

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I may have started out in an office. But eventually I was on the phone as I sat in a dim bedroom. Both in the office and on the phone, I was speaking with one of my old co-workers, KB. KB was now the head of some employment agency I was working with.

I had been out on a job. But KB now told me I couldn't go back. KB told me this was because some form I'd filled out had shown some bad information about me. I think it was possible for me to get around whatever bad information had been proven. But the management at the company wasn't around. So I'd have to wait until KB could get back in touch with the management, to talk with them about getting around the bad information.

I had a feeling this wasn't all true. I had a feeling that I'd somehow angered KB and that now she was trying to find a way to get back at me. KB was trying to keep me from this job. I thought that the management team may actually have been around, but that KB had just decided not to talk to them about me.

I got angry. I kept my emotions under control, but I did make a comment implying that I was angry and that I thought KB was giving me the runaround. As I spoke, I was driving a screw through a sheet of paper and into a brick-sized block of wood.

Dream #2

I was in a bedroom with a woman who was about my mom's age and size. The woman may have been one of my mom's old best friends. The woman half-lay on a bed. I sat down on the bed. We had been speaking about the hantavirus. For some reason, we were making jokes about how the virus had come from the "upscale" cabins at Yosemite.

Dream #3

I was either in or watching a movie. Either I or the main character was in love with a girl. But there were a number of men who were dead set against letting any woman into the character's life. These men were all from the internet, like they'd been internet figures, but they'd found their way off of the internet, through fiber optic cables, and into real life.

There were three men, I believe. One man was a definite leader. All the men were criminals. They may have been internet figures all their lives, or they may have, at some point, been relegated to the internet for their crimes. But now they had broken out of the internet and were ready to keep the main character from finding love in his life.

There were two scenes, both of which seemed to occur in adjacent rooms in some huge building, kind of like the Rose Main Reading Room of the NYPL. I can't remember the first scene very well. But I think I saw the main character very much in the third person during this scene.

In the second scene, I probably saw through the main character's eyes. I was getting in line for something. There was a long belt-rope line-maze leading to somewhere. I knew that somewhere along the line, I would meet the girl I was interested in. I was looking forward to meeting the woman and proving to the men trying to stop me that I wasn't afraid of them.

But now I got a phone call. The call was either from or on behalf of my mom. My mom was having serious health troubles. I needed to go see her right away. My mom may also have been angry with me, and that made me feel like I needed to get to her even sooner.

I turned around and headed out of the line and out of the room, probably into the room of the first scene. In that room the men who were against me stood around some sculpture that looked like a small model of the Statue of Liberty, except in a mottled fashion, kind of like a sculpture by Rodin.

The three men laughed at me. I now understood that the phone call had been a fake. My mom really wasn't in trouble. I was just being called so I'd step out of line and lose my chance at seeing the girl.

I was torn. I felt like I couldn't let myself believe the feelings I was getting from these men, that the phone call had been a fake. I still believed that my mom was in trouble. So I felt like I still needed to go see her. But I also couldn't let the men fake me into stepping out of line and seeing the woman. So I felt like I needed to get back in line. But I also felt like I'd already missed my chance at seeing the woman. Now that I'd stepped out of line, the woman would miss me and leave.

So I was frozen. I didn't know what to do or where to go. Of course, I didn't want to show this feeling to the men, either. The leader slapped two traffic-cone-orange squares onto the chest of the Rodinesque Statue of Liberty. The squares had backs that kind of looked like defibrillator pads.

***

UPDATE: Added drawing to dream #3, September 20, 2012, 8:13 AM, Mountain Standard Time.

my own private quilp; searching for a presentation

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in the living room of an apartment. But it was also like I was in a doctor's office. The office was my mother's office, as if my mom were a Doctor.

Somebody buzzed into our apartment from outside of the apartment building. I knew it was an annoying, little man. He had an appointment with the Doctor. But I also knew that he always came here, and that every time he came here, he came up with a new reason to complain about the service he received from the receptionist.

Today I was acting as receptionist, even though I usually didn't even have a role within the office. Acting as the receptionist, I got really afraid of what the man might do this time. I tried to have everything arranged so that the man would have absolutely nothing to complain about. And the first thing I'd do would be to buzz the man into the apartment and open the door for him as promptly as possible.

I was sitting on the floor. I had to stand up and press a button near the front door. I quickly did so. But as soon as I pressed the button to let the man into the apartment building, the man bashed in the door of the actual apartment! He was only about waist-high to me. He was bald, with a wide, misshapen head and huge eyes. He was dressed in a nice business casual shirt and khaki slacks.

The man looked angrily at me. But I could tell he was really getting enjoyment out of the whole situation. I knew he had been waiting right at the door, hoping I'd think he was downstairs, just so he could surprise me by being upstairs. I felt completely out of control of the situation. I felt totally defenseless against the man. And he loved it.

Dream #2

I was at some event, probably with one of my family members, maybe my mom or my sister. The event was being held in a large building, something like a modern church, with a lot of hallways and stairways leading to a few major (but not very big) lobbies and auditoriums.

I and the person I was with had something to do with the event, either the running or the organizing of it. But the turnout for the event was kind of disappointing. We walked up a stairway and into a lobby area where a white man with copper-tan skin and red-blonde hair was giving a presentation to a scattered, but kind of densely packed, group of people. The presentation was being given just outside an auditorium that had doors like the doors to a sanctuary.

I and the other person may have understood that we had something to do with the presentation, or with a presentation somewhere. We may have gone in search of something to do with whatever presentation we had something to do with. We wandered through a number of hallways, and maybe even a couple of small rooms, like Sunday school rooms, which may also have had a decent number of people in them.

We ended up in a lobby-like area, one wall of which curved out, like bay windows, with a wall of windows. The curving-out space was bounded on the opposite side (forming an ellipse or football shape) by a series of green, carpeted steps which could also serve as seats, so that this area was like a mini-auditorium with the window walls as a backdrop.

A presentation was going to begin here in just a few moments. But now I saw, outside the building, my nephews and niece walking down onto a series of concrete seat-steps that mirrored the seat-steps inside the building. There was a show about to begin outside as well. But before the show began, some person was down on the "stage," showing off two or three of his dogs.

I wanted my nephews and niece to see me, so I stealthily crawled up to the window-wall, hiding behind one of the dogs outside the window. I then popped my head up from behind the dog just in time for my nephews and niece to see me. Only one or two of them saw me. They screamed, "Preemie!" They may even have tried coming up to the window.

The show outside was now beginning. A Pastor-like man was beginning to speak. I didn't really want my nephews or niece to see me now, now that the presentation was starting. But it was right at this moment that all my nephews and niece saw me. They all screamed, "Preemie!" They ran toward the window. I felt really bad. I hadn't consciously wanted to cause a disruption. And I was kind of embarrassed by what was going on. But I also kind of liked the fact that my nephews and niece wanted to give me so much attention.

"all our eggs are free"

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I walked into a restaurant with a group of people, possibly family members, including my mom. The restaurant was really big, with dark wood walls and tables. Most of the space was round tables for two or four people. But along the left wall were booth tables. I sat down into a booth table.

As I was sitting down, one of my old friends from college, BR, sat down with another group of people in the booth right next to (i.e. behind) ours. As he sat down, I could hear somebody, maybe myself, in my head, mentioning how the selling point of this restaurant was that in all their breakfasts, they offered eggs for free. The restaurant's motto was "all our eggs are free." I could see an omelette-like egg folding in my mind's eye.

BR, seeing me, decided to start up a little joking exchange. So he called out to me, as if we'd been laughing about this slogan together, "How about your ----- [can't remember] eggs?"

I said, "They're free!" I didn't say anything after that. But BR kept staring at me, and I realized that now it was my turn. So I said, "How about your..." I had to look off into the distance to visualize a kind of egg. "Sunny side up eggs?"

BR said, "They're free! How about your scrambled eggs?"

I said, "They're free!" But I really couldn't remember any other kinds of eggs. So I just decided to get absurd. I said, "How about a glass full of raw eggs, but you mix it up and put a straw in it and drink it like a shake?"

BR said, "They're free!" BR then asked about another kind of egg. But as he was doing so, something was happening at my table that was causing me to lose focus. I was looking down at the table, maybe at a menu.

I realized I had lost focus and missed BR's cue. I looked back up and said, "They're free! How about your..." I wanted to mention an egg dish made out of egg shells, with no more substance in them. But before I could say anything, something else happened at my table to make me lose focus.

domestic drama in space; almost run over twice; use the phone!; i fail to protect

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was on another planet, and I may have been in communications with the spaceship I'd come from. But, really, it felt like I was just standing on a sidewalk outside an apartment building at night and talking with people up in an apartment. It was pitch black outside, and all the windows of the apartment building were blood red.

I was now "inside the spaceship," which was just one of the apartments. I was looking at a dining table, at which sat four people. The dining table was under a hanging incandescent lamp. The rest of the room -- maybe the rest of the apartment -- was dark. The window was open, showing the pitch black night outside.

Two of the people at the table were unknown to me. The other two sat at the far end of the table, near the window. On my left was Leonard Nimoy. On my right was Miss Piggy. Miss Piggy may have been supposed to be my mother.

Miss Piggy was rebelling against some idea. Leonard Nimoy was trying to convince Miss Piggy that the idea was good. Miss Piggy got really nasty. Everybody else left the table. Miss Piggy probably now became my mom. She may have looked at me and asked me for advice about the situation.

Dream #2

I was out on a road near the house I lived in in my last three years of high school. I was walking down the quiet, empty road. Parked on the left (my left) side of the road, just a few houses down from my house, was a big truck, like a semi-truck without a trailer, or like a really big tow truck.

I had possibly seen a car come driving up the road. To avoid the car I walked over into the gutter of the left side of the road -- though, for some reason, I didn't get up onto the sidewalk. But the car, instead of traveling along the regular area for driving, veered into the gutter to come after me.

Of course, the big truck was parked right in the gutter. But somehow the car had managed to wedge itself in between the passenger side of the truck and the curb. It was like the truck hadn't parked flush with the curb, and the car was now managing to wedge into, and widen, that gap. The car was doing all of this in order to come after me.

I remained calm. I knew the car had seen me in the distance and had wanted to taunt me somehow. When I'd gotten out of the way, the car just looked for a new way to get into my way. He'd found it. Now he was trying to scare me. But I would just remain calm.

I got past the car -- I'm not sure how. I have an image in my mind of a black iron structure, kind of in the lattice pattern of space scaffolding. I was now on the driver's side and tail end of the truck, looking back up at the truck.

There were a couple of guys standing outside the truck, watching the guy in the car. The car was now on the driver's side, slamming his car right up against the back end of the front wheel. I could now see the guy driving the car. He was an older man, maybe in his sixties. He had long, grey hair with a balding forehead.

The guy had actually managed, by pushing on the back end of the front wheel, to move the truck forward. The truck shot forward by a couple of houses. The guy probably stayed in his car. But he addressed the two other guys. He told them that he could move any vehicles like that, if they were obstacles in their way.

The other guys, who were probably thirty or forty years old, thought the guy was crazy. But they humored him and told him okay. Apparently, I understood, the guys had been doing some kind of work around here. But the truck had appeared to be in the guys' way. So the old man, without even having been asked, decided he'd come up and push the truck away. The guys hadn't really asked for it. But now it was done, they were kind of pleased.

The old man said, "Yeah, and you can make money off of this kind of stuff, too. For instance, I don't know who owns this big truck. So we can't do anything with it.

"But there's another big truck down the road." (I had an image in my mind's eye of a huge, black pickup truck down about a block and a half, on the other side of the road.) "That car's just been sitting there for years. If I moved it for you guys, you could make tons of money.

"I know the guy who used to own it. He died a few years back." The old man explained how the dead man's family either didn't know about the vehicle or didn't care about it and would rather let it sit there and rot than figure out what to do with it. Apparently this kind of gross neglect made the vehicle anybody's property -- if they could move it. The old man was familiar with these laws and he could move the vehicle. But the two other guys weren't interested in the old man's proposition.

The old man may have driven away. I walked away. I quickly found myself in a structure like a horse stable. But the structure was only a few houses down and across the street from where I'd been before. It didn't have a ceiling, and it was made of fencing rather than solid walls. The fencing was horizontal boards, maybe a foot wide and six feet long, painted white. The floor of the stable was cluttered with blankets.

My aunt was driving a car that looked almost exactly like the head of the Super Mario Brothers video game character Yoshi. She was pulling the car backward. I was right behind the car. But my aunt didn't care. She would happily have backed right over me. She almost did back over me. But somehow I missed getting hit. I was flustered that my aunt almost killed me -- without even seeming to care!

I didn't see any exit in the stable. But somehow my aunt managed to back up, twist to her right, and pull forward out of the stable. After exiting the stable, my aunt stopped the car. My aunt could tell I was upset. She shouted back at me, "If you really cared about your life, you'd have looked at me backing up, and you'd have gotten out of the way!" My aunt then probably drove away.

Dream #3

I was with my ex-girlfriend H. We were on a train, like the Metro North, heading up to some water park (which I called "Water World") in upstate New York or out on Long Island.

H and I were in our seats. We sat on the left side of the train. But we got a little bit anxious. We had been out on this trip a year ago. I thought I'd remembered what train stop we were supposed to get off on. But now I was less and less sure of it. We couldn't miss our stop. If we did, we'd have to get off in the middle of nowhere and wait -- maybe hours! -- for another train.

I had my phone in my hand. But I wasn't using it to find directions, which would have been simple. Instead, H and I stood out of our seats to get nearer to the exit door of the train. We'd look out the door at every stop. We'd read the sign to see what each stop was. If the sign looked familiar, or if the stop sounded familiar, we'd get out there and hope we were right.

As we got out of our seats, I noticed that the train car was really big, almost like the passenger cabin of a huge airplane. There were our aisle of seats, a central aisle, which had a lot of seats, and a third aisle of seats, next to the opposite windows. But the train still felt tight and crowded. Every seat was filled.

But as we walked forward, toward the exit door, the train car became gigantic. It was actually like a waiting room for a train -- or even like a departure gate at an airport! There were people sitting in chairs, people standing up near assistance desks, people sitting on the floors with their luggage, and people sitting, near windows, in seats that actually looked like regular train car seats.

H had also transformed. Instead of being Japanese, she was now a white woman with brown hair. She looked a bit like one of the girls I'd looked up to in high school as being well-organized and smart.

We had a direct view to the exit doors as they opened. As we read the signs, we got a bad feeling that we may have gone too far. I thought that maybe we were supposed to go too far. Maybe what we'd forgotten was that we'd had to go too far, then take another train and backtrack to where we wanted to go. That's why we weren't seeing the final stop. But I couldn't remember what the connecting point would be, either.

H thought we should ask somebody for directions. We walked around the gigantic car, asking the masses of people if they knew how to get to the water park. Some people thought they might know, but they didn't give a really clear answer. Other people had forgotten, just like us. Other people were going to the water park, too. But they were certain that the train had deliberately skipped that stop so that nobody could go to the water park.

H finally found some man, a tall, muscular, well-put-together, white man, who seemed to know where we should go. He gave H some directions.

But suddenly I saw a stop that sounded familiar to me. I ran out the door and rushed along the platform. I was assuming that we had to run quickly to catch the connecting train. I also assumed that H was with me. I rushed down a set of steps, against a flow of people.

But about halfway down the steps, I stopped. I suddenly realized that this was only a stop that had struck me  as interesting during last year's trip. I still had a number of stops to go.

As if to confirm this, I looked down at a slip of paper in my hand. The slip was white with red writing. It was a timetable for the train. It listed all the stops, including the one I'd need to get off on. I think it was right then, too, that I realized that all this time I could just have looked at my phone for directions. But now it seemed too late for something like that.

And now I also realized that H hadn't gotten off the train with me. She'd stayed on. She must be wondering where I was. I had to get back onto the train, and back to H!

I ran back up the steps and toward the train. But, still some distance away from the train, I could see that it was already pulling away. I kept running after it, though, hoping against hope that I would be able to get back on it.

Fortunately, the train did stop. I was still a ways away from the doors. They opened and closed quickly. It seemed that the train was going to start moving again. But it didn't. The train doors opened again. A young, white man in a business suit threw himself into one of the doors as it closed, jamming the rest of the doors. The doors re-opened and I quickly slid inside.

I was back on the train, but I was only relieved for a moment. I had no idea where H now was. I also had a bad feeling that I hadn't really gotten back onto the train I'd gotten off of, but that I'd gotten onto a train that had followed the train I'd originally been on. If that were the case, H would be alone on the other train.

I had to find out if H was okay. But I couldn't think of any way to do this. Finally, after some rigorous concentration, I figured out that I could probably text H on my phone, figure out where she was, and figure out whether we were on the same train. If we weren't on the same train, I could at least figure out how and where we could reunite with each other.

Dream #4

I was out in the woods, but near some place like a small town or a resort or something. It may have been the future, far enough in the future for the American legal system to have been changed in weird ways.

There was a group of pretty nasty criminals, maybe four guys. Their crimes had been proven. But the crimes hadn't been bad enough to send them to jail or execute them. Instead, as punishment, the men were all being exiled to another location.

They may not even have been told that their crimes had been discovered, proven, and submitted for sentencing. They were simply being contained by a group of people and being kept calm and happy until they were moved. The place they were being moved to wasn't very different from this place. And they would be kept calm and happy there. But as punishment for their crimes, they simply had to be moved out of their present location.

I was among the group of people containing the men. We had all split up. The four men were also probably split up. We didn't really have to encounter the men. But if we did encounter them, we had to act like nothing was wrong. If the men knew they'd been convicted of crimes, they'd become terribly violent. We had to act like we didn't even know they'd committed a crime.

But I personally felt like the crime the men had committed had been too nasty to get off with such a light punishment. I'd do my job of simply containing the men. But I was bitter about it. And I wished that something would happen that would justify my killing the men -- especially their leader.

I then stumbled upon the leader. He was maybe in his late forties or early fifties. He was rough looking. He was bald and had an olive complexion. He had big, brown eyes and cheeks mossed over with dark, black stubble. He seemed intelligent, but not very cultured. He probably wore a well-fit, black sweater and black slacks. He was carrying a big, clear, blue glass jug. It had apparently had alcohol in it. But it may now have been empty.

I tried to follow protocol and act calm with the man. But he immediately became violent with me. I resisted the strong temptation I had to fight with the man. But the man smashed his jug on the ground. He still had a handle on the jug. But now it was broken into a huge, sickle-shaped and cylindrical shard. The man overpowered me, even though he didn't have me pressed to the ground, and walked me backwards, constantly jamming the sharp glass at my throat.

I was managing to push the shard away from me by pressing against the semi-cylindrical back curve. But the man was stronger than I. It was only a matter of time before he'd manage to get at me.

I reached up to the top of the shard and broke off a fragment (???). I then flailed out of the man's grip and lunged at the man. I sliced at the man's throat. I managed to cut into the man's throat, but only lightly. Just a thin trickle of blood ran out of the scrape, which stretched along a three-inch expanse in the center of the man's throat.

The man suddenly calmed down. He stared at me and aspirated a soft, little chuckle. He said, "But, no. Of course you wouldn't do that. You wouldn't kill me. You wouldn't even try. You just aren't that kind of a person."

The man was now getting ready to walk away. His three cohorts had come to this spot as well. From here, they were going to go off somewhere else. They hadn't all gotten close to each other. But I could see them all at different corners of the woods.

The man couldn't see for himself that his throat had been cut. I knew that if the cohorts told the man that his throat had been cut, the man would become terribly angry. The only reason he hadn't stayed angry was that he'd thought I was being my "usual" gentle self with him.

In fact, the man was still walking close to me, mumbling on and on about how I'd never try to slit his throat. The man had gone from being clothed in well-fitting, all black clothes to being clothed in the tattered rags of a business suit. At this point, as if to prove that he'd go crazy if he ever found out I'd tried to kill him, the man dropped his pants and walked around with his pants around his ankles.

Time passed, and I was now much closer to the resort. The man had, after all, found out that I'd tried to kill him. Now he was getting ready to retaliate. His method was that he was going to infiltrate the resort. He was going to act as an operative and incite a rebellion among the young people within the resort.

By inciting a rebellion among the young people, the man would cause the younger generation to lose their rights. The older generation would then take over. Somehow this would give the man the upper hand -- even though I'm not sure what good it would do him. He'd still most likely be transported out of this place.

But, having gotten information on the man's plans (how???), I knew I needed to stop the man. I was in a huge, but kind of cheap and run-down looking, room which looked kind of like a library but which served as the first room of entrance to the resort -- like the woods outside the resort, where I'd been before, wasn't really the proper resort area itself.

The man came into the room. He wasn't disguised, necessarily. But he had something with him, something like credentials, which gave him the "official identity," regardless of his external appearance, of being somebody who was okay for being inside the resort.

The person who handled the entrance and exit of people -- a kind of young, inexperienced person -- accepted the man. The man was simply allowed to go into the resort. I had to stand by and watch. If the person was accepted by the person in charge of accepting people, I simply couldn't do anything about it.

Time passed again. I was on an outdoor balcony level of the main building of the resort, looking down over some concrete courtyard. The balcony I was on was wide and open, pleasant for large groups of people, and had been a favorite hangout for the young people.

But just recently the young people, incited to rebellion by the criminal leader, had gotten into a fight with some officials on the balcony. The young people had been forced down from the balcony and into the courtyard. A whole riot crew -- bulletproof vests, black helmets, night sticks, and all -- had been assembled and was approaching the courtyard, unbeknownst to the young people in the courtyard.

Now the riot crew attacked. The young people, who were basically dressed in t-shirts and jeans, were pretty much powerless against the riot crew. The riot crew proceeded to pummel any young person they could get their hands on. I knew the criminal leader was behind all this. I knew if I could stop him, I could stop the attacks.

A man in his thirties walked up into the courtyard. He was a white man with red-tanned skin, strawberry blonde hair, and chiseled, muscular features. He wore a beautiful business suit, spectacles, and a long, pea-colored trenchcoat. He was carrying a briefcase with him. It was obvious he had just come from a business trip and was just now arriving back at the resort.

The riot crew turned toward the business man. He looked young enough to attack. But when the riot crew saw who the man was, they immediately stopped and backed away from him. He was not fair game. The business man walked up a stairwell at the edge of the courtyard.

I now knew the criminal leader was approaching. I had to confront him and defeat him, even if my orders were not to do so. However, I knew as I was walking away from where I'd been standing, that I was leaving a little girl without my protection. The little girl lay on a mattress on the floor of the balcony. She was being tended to by a very old man or woman. But the fate of the resort hinged on the health and safety of the little girl.

I walked down along the balcony, to where there seemed to be a lot more activity, like people consulting with one another regarding what to do about the unrest in the courtyard. I may have missed the criminal leader -- or I may have watched him walk right past me, as if he didn't quite exist while I was watching him! But I must have seen him again -- I remember seeing him in his black outfit.

There seemed to be fires and explosions. And then suddenly everything seemed to have calmed down. I don't know what the result of the conflict was. But I think some mutual understanding was arrived at between the people who had revolted and the people who had set the riot crews on them.

But I knew, even as I headed back to my post, that the criminal leader had approached the little girl. I assumed that if he had approached her, he had most likely killed her. I needed to make sure the little girl was safe.

I was now rushing back to my post to check on the welfare of the little girl. I was terribly distraught. But as soon as I approached the little girl's mattress, the scene would start over again. I'd be a little distance from the mattress, not able to see the girl. I'd rush up to the mattress and just get a glimpse of the girl. Then the scene would start again.

I think I saw the scene three times. The first time, I'm pretty sure, I discovered that the girl had been killed by the criminal leader. I felt horribly guilty. The second time, the girl may have been attacked, but still alive. The third time, the girl may have been very sick, suffering from some kind of a fever, and possibly in grave danger, but untouched by the criminal leader.

***

UPDATE: Added drawing to dream #2, August 3, 2012, 2:15 PM, Mountain Standard Time.

sex or work?; lost biking in india

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

It was the middle of night in winter. I was probably in a car with a couple other people. We were probably out on a road deep in the woods. The snow was deep all around us. It was hard for us to get through wherever we were right then. But we were already preparing for a storm that would be even worse. It was snowing a little bit, even now.

The person who was driving the car was like our manager at wherever we worked. He may have been a black man, kind of tall, with a kind of big build. We were all going to our place of work. Our manager was telling us a number of things we needed to keep in mind as we prepared for the storm. He also told us that we should expect to be at our place of work for a while, because once the storm started we would probably be stuck right where we were.

We were now in some big place that kind of looked like a ski lodge. This was where I worked. It was a little dim. But it was full of people. Everybody seemed to be partying and having a good time. I was sitting on the right end of a couch. Two women sat directly to my left. Another person, somebody from my work, sat on a couch opposite mine.

The two women seemed to be talking to each other and to the person across from me. The woman right next to me was really looking for some boy to take home with her. But the woman to her left was making some argument against it. She was saying something like, In this kind of storm, you didn't need to make a long-term commitment with somebody. It would be way too difficult.

But the woman next to me said, "I'm not looking for a long-term commitment. I'm just looking for sex! I want a boy who wants to go home with me for the night."

I'd had the feeling that the woman had thought I was cute for a little while. But now I understood she was basically telling me flat out that she wanted to take me home with her. But for some reason I was still shy. I didn't want to respond to her, because I didn't know if she really liked me.

The woman must have been able to see this. She twisted around and grabbed me up in her arms. It was suddenly like I was so small, like maybe a nine- or ten-year-old boy! The woman was so huge to me -- especially her breasts. The woman basically just shoved my face right into her breasts and began snuggling me. The woman asked me, "What do you say? Do you want to come home with me for the night, little boy?"

Just being enveloped in the beautiful woman's body the way I was, I felt so aroused and so comfortable. I did want to go home with the woman -- as soon as possible. But I remembered that I was scheduled to work. We were going to have the big storm. I needed to be here to work the big storm. How could I just leave my job at the time when they needed me the most, just to go off and have sex?

But I knew if I didn't at least go ask my manager if I could get the evening off from work, the woman would be disappointed in me. The woman was still cradling me in her arms. But I was thinking of how, when I could get up, I could best phrase the request to my boss. I wanted to make it sound like it was some kind of real emergency, so my boss would let me go.

Dream #2

I was apparently in India with a male friend. It was daytime, and we were biking through some kind of desert. It was a hot, sunny day. My friend and I had gotten into some small argument about where we were going to go next. We were on a dirt trail I believe. But we had gone along a number of different trails, and now I may have felt like I wasn't going to be able to see what I'd wanted to see.

Somehow my friend and I got our issues resolved. (The resolution of these issues, oddly enough, may have involved the intercession of a huge, talking bird, kind of like a pale, mutated vulture that was almost the size of a human.) We had decided which path we were going to take. But my friend was still kind of being a jerk to me. So I decided that while we were biking, I would keep at a distance from him. I'd start really slow and then stay far behind him, so he couldn't talk to me.

Now the path we were going along was a concrete path. We may have been a lot closer to a city, too. We started out by going down a kind of steep slope. The slope led to a grassy and tree-filled area around a river. But my friend had turned off on one path, while I either purposely or accidentally missed the path. Instead, I turned off to the left. I was now riding along a path on the opposite side of the river from my friend. I was also riding above the river, instead of at a level kind of below it, like my friend was.


I was a little worried. I didn't want to lose my friend, and I didn't want my friend to think he'd lost me. But when I looked out to my right, and just a little way ahead of me, I could see my friend on his path. He didn't seem to be aware, yet, that he'd lost me.


I figured I'd speed up. As long as I kept pace with my friend, from my path, then I could join back up with him. I knew that just a ways ahead the path curved right, with the river. I had the feeling that, just after the path curved right, there was a little section that ran back over the river. I could cross the river at that section and meet back up with my friend.


At this point, my friend may have realized that he'd lost me. He looked around. Then he saw me on the path across the river. He may have held his arms out, as if to ask, "What do we do now?"


I tried to shout something like, "Keep in touch with my by phones!" or, "Keep in touch with me by texting!" But I may have lost my friend's view around the curve as I was saying this.


I figured that my friend wouldn't have any idea that he was supposed to wait for me just around the curve. And he seemed to be riding even faster now. I'd have to speed up to get to the crossing point ahead of my friend, so I could meet him there, not have him go ahead of me and keep riding away.


There was a chain-link fence along my left side. Past the fence was a slight, grassy slope. Just beyond that I could see some big buildings, some of which kind of shone white in the sunlight. I knew that we must have been close to a town by now.


But now whole crowds of people came walking down the slope. They crossed through the fence and walked out onto the concrete path. Nobody was paying attention to me. I had to dodge everybody on the path. I managed to do so and keep up my speed for a little while. But then there were too many people on the path. I had to slow down a lot to keep from hitting people.


But now I could see that a whole lot more people were coming down the slope. I realized that I was in the middle of some big festival. The people may have come here to do something like wash in the river. But pretty soon this whole path, as well as the land, down to the river, would be filled with people. I knew it wouldn't be a matter of riding slowly. I'd have to get off my bike altogether. Even then, I probably wouldn't be able to walk. I'd probably be at a total standstill during the ceremony.

insubordinate identities; orgy superstar; forehead mustache

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was dealing with some sort of dream (? - I have a feeling that on some level I knew this was a dream) entity who was really sensitive and could become angry really easy. I don't know whether he was good or bad. But apparently I was trying to work with him because if I didn't appease him he was going to destroy something.

But I ran into trouble with the man when I was no longer able to control some parts of my own identity. I could see my identity as three women. The women were all supposed to be identical. They all had the same body form and the same kind of shoulder-length, but almost bowl-cut-like, black hair. Their eyes were weird, like they were wearing sunglasses without actually wearing any glasses.

These three female identities of myself may have been naked. One of them may have been completely visible. Another may have been silvery, like a silver mannequin of a person. The other was transparent, like a clear, plastic model of a person. At some point they may have stood in the opening doors of a train like a subway train, out at a train station stop surrounded by fields of tall grass, under a deep blue sky.

I had the idea that one of the women was supposed to help me control my dream. But none of the women seemed to have that trait. One of the women would do the reverse of anything I asked. Another woman may have acted completely at random. I can't remember what the third woman would do.

The man seemed to understand the situation. But I knew that I had to stop the women from acting. Because if they did anything that made it look like I was betraying the man, the man would only blame me, not my identities. But the man still understood the situation enough to think it was funny. The man even made some remark to me about not being able to control myself or my identities.

I was possibly trying to get to the man. I was on a subway. But I realized I had gone the wrong way on the train. My identities may have been with me. The man may have laughed again -- from wherever he was -- about my not even being able to go the right way on the train.

The train door opened outside, in one of the upper levels of a sports stadium. There were a whole bunch of people both inside and outside the train car. I rushed out of the car and into the packed crowd of people. I ran over to the staircase at the bottom of this level. I rushed down the staircase while a whole bunch of other people were rushing up -- though maybe some other people were also rushing down.


At the bottom of the staircase was another subway platform. The train arriving at this platform would take me back to where I'd come from. Then I could get off this train and get back on the train I had just been on. And then I'd be able to get to the right place.

When I thought of all the stops on this particular train line, I realized that a lot of them serviced just this stadium. It was like this single stadium was so big that it could take up almost an entire train line.

Dream #2

I was in a room in some small apartment. There was a group of men and women with me. The men and women were all at least somewhat attractive, all in about their late twenties or early thirties. We had all finished some kind of task. Now some people decided that we should have a sexual orgy.

I was sitting on the floor -- I think the apartment had one table, but no chairs. Two men pulled off their clothes and lay down by me. I was feeling kind of sexually excited by them. They were already starting to have sex. I may have stood up in search of a sexual partner. Other people may now have been taking their clothes off and preparing to have sex.

The two men who were having sex were supposed to be in demand by a lot of people. But people had to wait until the two men were done having sex with each other before they could have sex with one or both of the men.

I was drifting away, possibly with some other people in the group, to some other location. I had gone far away from the apartment. But there was a tube that reached all the way from the apartment to where my group was. This tube was clear and made of some kind of thin plastic or latex. The plastic itself had a yellowish tinge to it. The tube was maybe 20cm in diameter.

Some clear gel was pumping through the tube. I knew this gel was sperm from the two men. As they had sex with each other, they just kept pumping more and more sperm through this tube, all the way over to where the group now was.

But there may have been something wrong with the sperm tube. I needed to go check it out. I went all the way back to the apartment. I was now walking up to the front door of the apartment, following the sperm tube as I walked. I thought to myself that maybe it would finally be my turn to have sex. But I thought that it was probably still unlikely. The two men would still be pumping their sperm away. And if I even slightly bugged them about finishing up, it would never be my turn for sex.

I went into the house. I could see that everybody was taking off their clothes, getting ready to have an orgy. But everybody in the apartment seemed to have Down Syndrome. People took off their clothes and lay on the floor. That was when I got good views of their bodies. Some of the men had nice bodies. Some of the women almost had nice bodies, except that their breasts and hips were exaggerated in size and really saggy. Other men and women were really chubby. I wasn't attracted to anybody. I decided not to have sex.

As everybody started to have sex, the scene shifted to a park scene. Everybody having sex was on some open, dry, dusty area, like an overused sports field. I sat at the edge of this field with a number of other people. The area we sat on was also pretty dry and dusty. But it sloped up a tiny bit, and there seemed to be pine needles covering the ground, as if pine trees were behind us somewhere. The whole seating area and the whole dusty orgy-field were all covered over with shade from huge tree canopies, through which little fragments of sunlight would occasionally peep through.

I sat on the ground with my knees almost up to my chest, looping my arms around my knees. Other people sat on the ground, while some sat on a couple of benches and some stood. We were all watching the people on the field having sex. Now it seemed like none of the people having sex had a body type that I liked at all. I was actually getting kind of bored with watching the people have sex.

There was apparently a restaurant, like a Denny's, behind the slope that I sat on. A group of people came out from the restaurant, out onto the slope. The group seemed to be a few families. Among the families were a number of pretty girls. I backed up to get a better view of the pretty girls. One of them had tan skin and brown hair. I liked her a lot.

The families all seemed to be curious about what the group I was with was watching. Suddenly I realized that if the girl saw what I was watching she would think I was a pervert. I backed up from the orgy as much as I could, while still staying seated on the ground.

I realized my "shoulder straps" had come undone while I had been watching the orgy. I pulled them back up over my shoulders. It was then I realized I'd been wearing girls-style, white denim overalls with short leggings. Something about the overalls was also bunched up or ruffled, maybe around the leggings and on the chest. I wasn't wearing a shirt or anything else (including underwear, I think) under the overalls. My outfit may have had something in common with the pretty girl's outfit. But I may have been too embarrassed at my own outfit to notice.

When everybody else saw how I was backing away from the orgy, they all said, "Ah, look... Preemie's bored with this whole thing. This show's getting boring. Let's just say the show's over."

Suddenly the show was over, just like it had been scheduled. Now another group of performers walked up onto the lot. But the lot was now made of asphalt. And, somehow, it was re-oriented: 90 degrees to the left of where it had previously been.

The group of performers all made it obvious to me, possibly by singing a little snatch or two from a song, that they were going to perform the musical Jesus Christ Superstar. I was excited, as I've always liked that musical. The group all stood in a grid-like formation and began to sing.

I might not have been able to understand the group's singing. So I stood up to get closer and hear better. But as I got closer, I was kind of disappointed. The song didn't sound familiar to me at all. Were these guys performing a newer version of the musical?

I listened closer to the song. The group was actually singing about plot elements from the old Bible cartoon Superbook! The group may even have said the word "Superbook." I told myself, Oh, no! This isn't Jesus Christ Superstar. It's a musical for the cartoon of Superbook!

I may have been planning to get out of here. But as I was walking away I kept trying to pull my backpack (???) back onto my shoulders. But the straps of the backpack were so small. I kept trying to pull the right strap onto my right arm. But right before it got to the shoulder, it just wouldn't fit. It felt tighter and tigher. It was squeezing my arm like some black rubber band. I thought to myself, Man! Have I gained a lot of weight recently? This backpack used to fit me!

Dream #3

I was at some event like a fair or a Renaissance festival. I stood out on a wide, asphalt walkway. There were a lot of people, all walking around to different small shops or booths. But nobody really got near me. The sky overhead was greyish white with thin clouds. It was probably a warm day.

I pulled some object out of my pocket. It flipped open, like a flip-phone. It was just a little larger than a flip-phone. But it wasn't a phone. It was kind of like a mirror: it shone or reflected in a silvery way, like a mirror. But what it really was was a picture of myself from when I was in college.

I looked at myself from that photo. I looked just about the same as I look now, except that I had a weird mustache. The mustache went down primly from the center of my nose. Then at the top of my lip, it curved sharply back up. As it spread out at the corners of my mouth, it kind of twisted out like a handlebar mustache. But the "handlebars" looked disgusting. It was like they were made of overused, black toothbrush bristles. The edges of the mustache were so spiky and worn-out looking and gross.

Looking at myself, I asked myself, How could I possibly have let myself look like that while I was in college?

I looked at the photo again. I noticed that I also had a mustache just above my eyebrows. It was like a handlebar mustache as well. But it was much smaller and tighter. For some reason it made complete sense to me that I'd had a mustache on my forehead.

***

UPDATE: A post relating to images in these dreams can be found at this entry of my dreamday journal.

ten cent porn; trash files; juice boss; cooking too much?; secretly following; hitting hitcher; blackmail cupcakes

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was on some form of public transportation, maybe a bus, but probably more like a train or a subway. We were moving along above ground. The sky outside may have been deep blue-grey, as if it were late afternoon or early morning and cloudy. I sat in seats that edged their sides against the window. In front of me was a row of seats that edged their backs against the window. There may actually have been another row of seats in front of that first row.

I was looking at my phone. A man now sat in the seats in front of me. He was skinny, with dark skin and dark, wavy hair done up in a square cut. He wore a button-up shirt and nice slacks. He smiled at me and said something like, "You looking at porn?"

I was kind of shocked. I wasn't looking at porn. But I knew I could have been at some other time. In conjunction with my shock, we may have passed over some big bump. I dropped my phone. It scuttered under the row of seats the man was sitting in.

The man didn't seem to notice that I had dropped my phone. I didn't want to act like I'd dropped my phone. I thought if I acted worried, the guy would definitely think I had been looking at porn, and he'd definitely want to look at my phone. I didn't want to ask the guy for help in getting my phone.

I was trying to figure out the best way for getting my phone. I couldn't reach for it from where I sat. It had fallen all the way to the other end of the row. So I had to get up and get it. I stood up and went for it. I knelt in front of the row of seats.

It was a little harder than I'd thought it would be to get to it. The row of seats in front of this row was so close that it was like I had to crawl under this row just to get to the back row. Instead of the man sitting there, there may now have been a Hispanic woman, maybe with one or two little kids.

I noticed that down here the seats were all dusty, too. I could see my phone (except now it may just have been a dime) at the very end of a corner formed by the row of seats and the wall. I crawled back and reached for the phone, rubbing myself up against all the dust of the seats so that I could squeeze my arm in to where the dime was.

I pulled the dime out and looked at it. I may have been sitting straight up, still under the seats, though before I'd had to do a pretty short crawl to get here. Now that I'd actually retrieved my dime, I no longer thought it had been worth all the trouble I'd gone through.

Dream #2

I was at my office. I was looking down into the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. The drawer was all full of clutter. I may have been panicked, trying to figure out how to take care of all this clutter.

I may have heard my boss' voice from behind me, talking to our office manager, BL. My boss told BL, "You'll see. We can do without him. Anybody can do his job, really."

Dream #3

I was in some place like a break room. It seemed to be at the back of a big grocery store. The break room was kind of narrow. A big, circular table with a fake wood top took up most of the room. I sat at the table. The lights in the room were all off. The only light was the fluorescent light from the store, which came in through the open door of the break room.

My boss walked in. He said something like, "You're still here? We got rid of you, didn't we? We have your replacement and everything."

I may have tried to explain something about my being here, like there were one or two things that still needed to be taken care of. But my boss said something to ridicule everything I said. He said everything in a really pissy yet nonchalant tone that made it clear he was trying to insult me as much as he could in the most tactful way possible, so that he could prove how little he felt he needed me without actually getting himself in trouble for insulting me.

I was so angry that I shouted something back at him. It was pretty violent, but I can't remember what it was. My boss didn't take what I'd said seriously at all. So I began to laugh. I told him if he didn't think I was serious, he could just wait and see. I began to laugh louder and louder.

I laughed so loud that I "woke myself up" -- somewhere. I was walking around in the grocery store, I believe. I could hear two women talking to me from somewhere, maybe from inside my head. I could tell that the two women were Hispanic. Maybe they'd been attractive before. But now they were kind of worn-out and dumpy-looking.

The two women were telling me that when I'd been laughing in my sleep, I'd been laughing so hard that I'd woken them up. They said my laugh had been an evil laugh, and that it made them afraid for my boss. I don't know how they knew I was laughing about my boss.

I myself was really surprised I could have given such an evil laugh. When the women told me that my laugh was evil, I began to worry about myself. Was I okay? Did I need psychological help?

I was now walking along the back wall of the grocery store. There was a door along the back wall. I knew that behind that door was my boss' bedroom. He was asleep in that room. It may have been like a dorm room. My boss may actually have been sharing that room with the guy my boss had hired in my place. My boss and the guy may both have been asleep.

I knew my boss had fallen asleep because he thought there was nothing to worry about from me. I was going to show him. I had a plastic bottle in my hands. Actually, the bottle in my hands kept changing. First it was a small, 600ml plastic bottle. Then it was a big plastic juice bottle, maybe around two liters. There may also have been times when I held more than one bottle in my hands. The bottles may usually have been full of orange juice. I don't think any of them were ever completely full.

I planned to sneak into my boss' bedroom while he was asleep and pound him on the head with these bottles until his skull was smashed and he died. But as I was walking up to the door of the room, two tall, very muscular, bronze-skinned men walked up from behind me. The men wore tight, dark grey or black t-shirts and maybe dull green or grey pants, also kind of tight, maybe made of denim. They had short, wavy brown hair, and square, but kind of babyish, faces.

I had a bad feeling that these guys were trying to break into my boss' bedroom. They seemed to want to steal some of the stuff in the bedroom. Apparently the bedroom was also like a storehouse for some of the most valuable stuff in the store.

I didn't want the store to get stolen from, so I began watching the guys very closely. I decided not to go into the room. The room had a sliding door with a small, inward notch of a handle, painted the same pale-tan as the rest of the door. I didn't want the two men to see how easy it was to get into the room. They'd only be more encouraged to go in.

So either I got friendly with the guys or the guys got friendly with me. We began talking, walking past the room, all of us acting like the room was of no importance to us at all. We turned right and headed down an aisle with rather large shelves, more like shelves in a huge discount warehouse than in a normal grocery store. We were talking about something that I seemed to be engaged in with a kind of childlike enthusiasm.

I got the feeling, as we continued walking, that the guys had decided they were going to protect me. But I didn't know if that was just an act. So I kept all my conversation away from anything having to do with my boss or the bedroom door.

Dream #4

I was in some restaurant. I probably worked there. The restaurant had a long, narrow eating area and a small kitchen, most of which was visible from behind a counter. The restaurant was closed at the moment. But we were apparently preparing, so we could open up for some big party later in the day. The party may have been planned to be a multiple-day party. It may also have been the case that we had just closed down for the day, but that we now had to prepare all of our food for the next day.

Most of the workers seemed to be hanging around in the eating area, toward the back, at a couple of tables. It seemed like they, in general, really didn't have anything to do with the cooking, or maybe even the serving of the food. It seemed like they were all some kind of bosses, more concerned with the administrative aspects of the restaurant. There were one or two cooks behind the counter.

I'm not sure exactly what my job was. But somehow, I was keeping track of the amount of food made. I was also somehow involved in determining how much food needed to be made. At some point I had concluded that we didn't need to make a whole lot. We probably hadn't had much business the day before, and it looked like things weren't going to be any more active the next day. Plus, with the kind of food we made (some kind of fish?), it was much better to cook too little and have the food be fresh and good, than to cook too much and have food go bad.

The cook or cooks took my advice and began cooking only a little bit of food. I think I saw the preparations -- something like sheet pans with circular items, like biscuits, except made of fish, laid out on them.

But now I heard from the front door that the next day of the party was going to be really busy. There would probably be a lot of people here. And, in fact, a large group of people might even have made a reservation specifically for this restaurant.

I was excited. I ran back to the cooks and told them that we now needed to cook a lot of food. We were going to have a full house. Suddenly the cooks had all kinds of big fillets of fish, all being fried and laid out on pans everywhere. There were all kinds of pans of greasy, still-bubbling, fried fish -- everywhere.

I walked away from the cooks' counter and back toward the back of the store, where the other guys sat. I suddenly had a bad feeling that I'd told the cooks to make way too much food. The place would probably not be busy enough to serve all that food. If it were busier than the other days, we'd be kind of okay. But we'd still have too much food. But if it were only as busy as the other days, we'd have a whole lot of food and waste on our hands. We'd have wasted a lot of money.

Dream #5

It was probably a fresh, crisp morning. I was out walking around some place like a small town or a college town or campus, leading a small group of new students in some kind of orientation program. Everybody seemed cheerful and relaxed, even though I think we had gotten to some place where I really didn't know where I was going. We were walking along some grey flagstone path in between some large lawns, at the end of which were large, stately buildings. 


A group of guys came walking our way from the other direction. They were all a lot taller and stronger than I. One of the guys, a black man with a shaved head, asked if we knew where we were going. I probably walked up to the guy and mumble-whispered something like, "I don't know where we're going. Do you think you could show us the way -- but without letting on that I don't know what I'm doing?"


We stood before a black iron gate (on my right side) that was hinged on either side with a maybe 2 meter tall stone post. The gate was already partly open. The man opened the gate the rest of the way for us. We all cheerfully walked in. After the gate was a flagstone path that led directly up to one of the big, stately buildings.

The man pointed out a stack of textbooks on the right side of the flagstone path. The top book may have had a yellow cover. The book may have been a mathematics textbook.

The man said, "I think somebody left their textbooks on the path." I knew that this was the way the man was justifying having given me directions for where to go. If he opened the gate and pointed out the books, it would just look like he was pointing out the books, not pointing out the direction I was supposed to take.

I may have replied that the person who owned these books (maybe some female student?) wasn't here, but that I'd make sure to get the books to her. I probably went to pick the books up.

Dream #6

It was morning. I was out with some young, black man on a road, probably in a neighborhood full of fenced parking lots and warehouses. It may have been like I was going to work. It may have been a hot, kind of smoggy morning. The sky was a sour yellow, with the sun just coming up over the horizon.

There were a decent amount of cars in the street, all heading to some warehouse yard to start work. The boy and I seemed to be in a hurry, even though I don't think either of us was too keen to start work.

The boy suddenly had an idea that to get to work quicker we could "hitch a ride." But this hitching a ride didn't necessarily mean getting permission to ride with somebody and getting into their car. The boy told me, "Come on!" He ran up to some van that may have been full of young people, like college students or recent college graduates in something like an intern program. The boy seemed just to jump onto the back or the side of the van and hold on as the van drove away.

I knew that the boy was doing this less because he was in a hurry to get to work and more because he simply didn't feel like walking the rest of the way to work. But I was in a hurry to get to work, and, even though I didn't like the boy's idea, I thought it seemed smart enough that I'd better do it. So I jumped onto a van, possibly not the same van as the boy had jumped onto.

But as I was jumping onto the van I noticed that at one intersection, at which we had just turned left, there was so much traffic that everything had come to a standstill. I was now somehow inside the van. All the young people seemed to make me feel welcome. There may have been a pretty, little, skinny white girl with big, blue-green eyes and her brown hair back in a loose ponytail.

At some point I may have decided that it would be easier just to get out and walk. But suddenly an accident occurred. We'd been moving forward, when we'd hit my friend who'd jumped on the other van. Apparently he'd gotten off the van -- maybe he'd been thrown off of it. But we'd actually driven right over him. It was obvious that he was dead -- crushed. But I didn't want to believe it.

I think I'd gotten out of the van I was in, as if that would reverse my friend's death. I was walking to work. But then at some point I was driving in a car -- a yellow taxi-cab, actually -- with my mom. My mom was driving. I sat in the front passenger seat.


We turned right and drove through an open gate. We were heading along a wide road through a wide lawn. Up ahead was a big, stately building, like a college building. But I looked up ahead and to my left and saw that there were people out here training to be astronauts. Some people may even have been wearing full astronaut outfits for spacewalks.


Suddenly, from nearby, on the left side of the road, there were two people: a boy and a girl. I'm not sure what happened to the boy. He may simply have run off into the field. But the girl ran directly in front of our car. My mom had to step on the breaks really quickly. Even then we barely missed hitting the girl.


The girl was a beautiful, tall, skinny, black girl with long, loosely curly, black hair. She wore a schoolgirl's outfit, with a tartan skirt and overall-blouse and a white button-up shirt. But she was a college student, or at least preparing to become a college student.


The girl looked terribly panicked. She gave me and my mom a look, like she knew she'd forced us to stop, but that she'd had to do it. She quickly ran around to the back passenger side of the car and got in. My mom had the understanding that we needed to just keep driving and get the girl to the same place as we were going.


The girl said, in an ominous tone, "I really feel sorry for you guys." I could tell that the girl knew something bad that was possibly going to happen to me and my mom. It probably had something to do with the young man who got hit by the van. But it was also connected to the girl in some way, like whatever the girl was trying to escape was whatever was coming after me and my mom, too.


I asked the girl, "What do you mean, you feel sorry for us?" I looked in the rearview mirror at the girl. I could tell the girl was too distressed to talk. I asked, "Do you just not want to tell me right now?" The girl pursed her lips in fear and shook her head. She may have been clutching a teddy bear tightly in her arms.


Dream #7


I was in some place like a Starbucks. But it was much larger than a normal Starbucks. The cashier's counter was also set at some strange angle to the rest of the store. The area around the counter was set up in a cluttered kind of way, too, with the glass display cases set at odd angles to the counter. And, behind a door behind the counter was, apparently, a really big food prep area, like this place was actually a restaurant rather than a cafe or a Starbucks.


I had ordered and had been sitting down. But now I'd stood up and come back to the counter. I may have been planning to leave. But the man behind the counter, a tall, kind of muscular black man with a bit of a feminine attitude, had either given me or sold me some extra items, so that now I felt like I should stay at the cafe to finish my items. This probably wasn't so bad, as I probably had stuff I wanted to read or write.


But now the man offered me even more food. This time it was some kind of cupcakes with a thick layer of pale brown chocolate frosting. The cupcakes looked really good. But I knew I probably shouldn't have them. But the man told me to take one.


There was some woman behind me and just to my right now. She may have been with me.


I told the man that I really couldn't take anything else. I'd probably had enough with the first stuff I'd gotten. With the second batch of stuff the guy had given me, I probably had too much. The cupcakes would make it way too much.


I was about to walk away. But now the man brought out a huge tray of some kind of sweet breads that were coated in some kind of sweet syrup. The man told me something like, "Now, you really can't resist these."


I was actually going to try and resist them. But the man actually told me something weird, like, if I didn't take one of these little cakes with me, he was going to tell everybody some dirty,little secret of mine. So I decided to take one of the cakes. They actually did look really, really good. And now I was even tempted to take one of the cupcakes with the chocolate frosting, too. I really did want to know how that frosting tasted.


*****


Update -- you can find info on images I think are related to this dream (and some others) in this entry of my dream-day blog.

dace joke; humped by zappa lookalike

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a big bedroom with one or two women. Both the women were very beautiful and very made up, almost like 1940s actresses -- or fetish models! They were actually college girls. They either had just graduated or were just about to graduate. There was some issue with one of the girls being just about to meet some other girl, possibly so they could engage in some creative endeavor together.

I turned around and walked toward the door. It now seemed like it was exactly one year later than the time it had been before I'd turned around. There was another woman sitting near some small dresser with a lamp. The woman seemed somehow to be using the dresser as a desk.

There was some discussion about how the first woman and the woman that she had been going to meet were now good friends. The seated woman told me this as if to say "didn't you know this already?" as if I'd asked some question about it.

I walked out into the living room, which was also really large. The room was really messy. It was like there had been some kind of party earlier on -- it was still dark outside -- and nothing had gotten picked up yet.

I was about to walk through the living room and into another room. This whole time I'd been talking with some young woman somewhere about her college graduation, which was just about to take place.

I stopped on the threshold between the living room and some dark room. I stood halfway in both rooms. I could see the woman I'd been talking to in the dark room, standing before a dresser and pulling on some clothes.

In the living room, one of my old friends, M, began making some kind of joke about the graduation party the girl was going to throw. Apparently she was going to throw the party here. Some amount of thought had gone into decorating the place for the party. But M was downplaying all the effort.

The main thing M was doing was playing out the scenario of some dopey, scratchy-voiced, bum-like guy saying all the things you'd need to make a party really classy. M, as the character, would list off one or two normal pieces of furniture, like a coffee table or a dresser. But then he'd veer off and start mentioning all kinds of weird, sometimes trashy, sometimes drug-related, items. One of these things was something called a "dace."

I was really amused by M's antics, even though I felt a little bad, thinking that the girl was probably a little annoyed and insulted by M downplaying her efforts to put together a nice party.

I joined in with M in the antics. The weird exchange M and I had -- both of us acting as the bum-like guy -- was so vivid that I could hear it. But I can't remember anything I said now.

Dream #2

I was in a mall with some guy. I was supposed to keep the guy with me: either making sure I followed him closely or making sure he followed me closely.

The guy was probably in his early forties. He was maybe 190cm or 195cm tall, a little heavy. He had worn out skin and a kind of baggy face. His hair was short, slightly feathery, and blonde, but going grey quickly. The guy wore a blue shirt with a mild, business-casual plaid-like crisscrossing of darker blue lines and a pair of khaki slacks.

The mall was somewhat busy. We had walked out of one store and were now walking to a point where two wide corridors joined into a staircase which led up to one wide corridor.

It had been difficult to keep track of the guy in the corridors, though I'd managed to do it. He'd be up in front of me, then back behind me, then up in front of me all over again. But I think we'd been talking with each other, which had helped me keep some orientation regarding the man.

But the stairwell leading up to the next corridor was extremely busy, if only for a moment. It was like a huge rush of people were all coming down the stairs while I was trying to go up the stairs. I had been having troubles, I think, keeping my own orientation, not to mention keeping track of the man. But now my own orientation was completely obliterated.

I got control of myself. I was only three steps up the staircase. I looked down to the foot of the staircase. I assumed that was the last place I'd seen the man. But the man wasn't there.

The staircase was relatively empty now. I looked past the bottom of the staircase, down the corridor adjacent to the corridor the man and I had come from. I didn't see him among any of the people in the corridor. But I thought he might have gone into one of the shops in the corridor. I thought I should probably walk past all the shops, looking in to see if I could find the man.

But something, either my own thoughts or the voice of some person a couple steps up from and behind me, who seemed to have seen the man, told me that I should actually go up the steps to look for the man.

That made sense. The man, if separated from me, would, I assumed, have kept going in the direction we'd been going in together before we'd gotten separated. After all, our common goal, it seemed to me, was more his goal than mine, even though I'd had to be the one to stick with him to make certain we got to the goal. I could even imagine the man standing on the left side of the corridor, near a shop one or two shops away from the top of the staircase.

I went up the staircase. Time became a little bit jumbled.

For a little while I was in some store like a department store or a drug store, near the makeup sectiong. I may have been talking to a woman behind the counter, standing on a high up platform. I may have been ashamed while I was talking to the woman, like I'd really wanted to wear the makeup she sold, but like I really didn't want her to know that and think I wasn't a boy she could be sexually interested in.

I was then in some big room -- not like a bedroom, but some brick walled room that felt like some kind of art studio, or even an old record store that had been hollowed out. But something about it still felt like a bedroom.

I was in the room with some guy. There may have been another person, possibly also a man, in the room. But he seemed only to be observing, not acting in any way. And he may have disappeared at some point.

The first guy and I went through some scenario together. It was like the guy was trying to figure out something about a girl: maybe why his girlfriend had left him or why he wasn't able to get a specific girl to like him or how to tell a specific girl he liked her. But I had something to do with the woman. It was like I was at fault for the woman not being in love with the man. I didn't know if the man knew this. I suspected he did. But I wasn't going to mention it unless he did.

Now the scenario changed a little bit. So did the guy. The guy had at first been kind of sloppy, wearing a white t-shirt with some black-printed rock band art on it and some kind of khaki jacket. Both the shirt and jacket were in terrible disarray. The guy had been a little round-bellied and round faced, with pretty short hair done in a tightish, square style.

Now the guy was wearing basically the same clothes. But he was really tall and really skinny. He had long, frizzy, black hair, a linty-looking mustache and goatee, and lots of stubble. He had dark, deep-set eyes and bushy eyebrows. He kind of looked like Frank Zappa, with a little bit of Joey Ramone's look, too.

The two of us were still going through some scenario related to the girl who was the guy's love interest. But now there was also some Smashing Pumpkins song playing in the background. Somehow the scenario got mixed up with a discussion about the song -- as if we were actually writing this song together as we heard it, or as if we were trying to figure out how to write a song like this together.

I'm not sure how, but the scenario had worked its way to where the guy had me on the ground, on my back. He was beginning to hump me. He may even have unzipped my pants to reveal that instead of underwear I was wearing a baby's diaper.

I wasn't attracted to the guy. He was pretty dirty looking. But it felt good when he humped me, especially when I could feel the diaper I was wearing pressing against me. I was worried that enjoying this stiuation probably made me gay. But I somehow got myself to believe that even though I was enjoying this guy dry humping me right now, I wouldn't normally enjoy having sex with guys.

I was probably about to climax. I could feel my erection pushing against my diaper. The Smashing Pumpkins song got louder and louder. The man and I may have been singing the song together. I may still have been trying to figure out if we were making this song or only listening to it.