Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was in a room with a number of other people. There was something like a formal presentation going on in the room. But the room wasn't very formal. Everybody was sitting all over the place, at all different angles, in all different kinds of chairs, some people even under blankets. The room was mostly dark, with some bright light shining from the back of the room and throwing a little bit of light on everything else. The presenter was a young woman who may have been something like everybody's boss.
At some point during the presentation I felt I'd heard everything I personally needed to hear. I grabbed some other guy and headed out of the room with him. We walked down a narrow, fire escape-like staircase that ran along the side wall of a lower room. The lower room had a couple windows letting in a lot of natural light. But this room was also in disarray: a computer and keyboard sat on some kind of crate, and there seemed to be blankets everywhere.
The guy and I discussed something that had to do with whatever kind of business I was trying to take care of. Once we had come to a conclusion, we decided to split up. I'm not sure where the guy went. He may have stayed in the lower room. I went back up to the upper room.
Not long after I got back to the upper room I got a call on my cell phone. I answered the phone, stood up, and walked out of the room. Now there were a lot of men, like business men in their forties and fifties, casually dressed in t-shirts, shorts, and sunglasses. They were all talking out business ideas with each other.
The call I had taken was some kind of job offer. The guys, who currently worked for the woman, just like I did, saw that I was talking over a job offer. I knew some of the guys were tempted to tell the woman what I was doing. One of the guys may not have wanted to say anything to the woman. But he did ask me why I was talking to someone about taking a job offer.
I was now walking down a few very narrow, steep steps, off of a cabin porch and down to a clearing before a calm forest. I held the phone to my ear and asked the man -- who was neither near me nor on the phone -- whether he could blame me. After all, I said, the woman hadn't given me work in more than five weeks. I needed a better guarantee of steady work than that. And the place giving me the job offer could give me steady work.
I was now walking, or taking some kind of track-bound, cart-like vehicle, down a long stairway or slope that ran underneath a huge, suspended passenger airliner. The top of the airliner, I knew, was completely sawed off. The seating area was completely visible. Both the airliner and the slope I was moving down were apparently hanging high up in the air, maybe even over the clouds.
It was now like the cart-like vehicle I was driving in was a family's vehicle, maybe even an SUV. There had been a building at the top of the slope. The building was a hospital. The family driving this family vehicle had picked up the oldest son of the family (who was, now, maybe in his late thirties or early forties) up from the hospital.
The son was practicing to be a doctor. He was Hispanic, kind of overweight, with a pudgy face and finely done, graying black hair. He wore a black button-up shirt and some nice slacks. He looked healthy, but tired and frustrated from the day. He was so tired that, even though he seemed to have some pent up aggression in him, he was carrying it around with an almost elegant sort of resignation.
The mother of the family, a very old, thin woman wearing a dress almost like a flannel nightgown, patted the man on the shoulder and told him not to worry. The mother knew things were frustrating. But they'd all turn out alright. The son had been thinking about giving everything up. The mother's speech either made the son think it would be alright, after all, to give everything up, or that it would be better to just hold on through the frustration until conditions improved.
Dream #2
I was in some place like a movie theater. The theater was gigantic and completely filled with people. But the seats were all turned, in huge, orderly blocks, at strange angles, so that only a few blocks of seats were pointed directly at the movie screen. I seemed to recognize a lot of the people in the theater. It was like this event was some event for a group of friends or professional colleagues of which I'd been a part.
Sitting just a few rows down from me and across a strangely set aisle were a few young men I'd known from a previous job. They looked very healthy, vibrant, and well-dressed. They were very beautiful. They had been kind to me in the past. But I felt like nowadays they wouldn't have the obligation to be kind to me. They might just treat me rudely, or at least without consideration. I hoped they wouldn't notice me, so I wouldn't have to start up an interaction with them which would ultimately lead to a compromise of my feelings.
But somehow I dropped my glasses and they landed all the way over at the men's feet. One of the men, who didn't look like, but reminded me of, my old co-worker CJ, picked up the glasses. He noticed that one of the arms was broken and fixed in a tacky way. I hoped he wouldn't call attention to this.
We were all now sitting at a dinner table, in a gigantic room packed full with crowded dinner tables and beautifully dressed people. Sitting just behind me at another table was an incredibly beautiful and beautifully dressed, young, blonde woman. The man holding my glasses seemed about to give the glasses back to me. I hoped he would give them back soon and not mention anything about the damaged arm in front of the beautiful woman.
But the man began gabbing away about the damaged arm and the tacky way I fixed it up. At first it seemed like he was talking about it just because he thought it was a little bit funny -- quirky, kind of like I have always been known to be. Then he thought it was interesting in a kind of involving way. Then, finally, he seemed to think it was sad, like he didn't know how I could have gotten to a point, mentally, where I thought walking around with eyeglasses like this was okay.
I didn't know how I'd gotten to this point, either. I may finally have taken the glasses back. I probably looked down at the glasses and hoped that something about my condition would at least draw the beautiful woman to me. I'd been attracted to her. Now I was sure she didn't like me. But maybe she would like me, after all, if there was something in all of my messed up character that drew sympathy out of her.
Dream #3
I was out underneath a tarp with a number of other people. I was involved in business with two older women, both of whom had something to do with the fashion industry. I had made some mistake, something having to do with losing my nerve, at some point, so that I didn't speak up about something. This basically made one of the women decide she wasn't going to do any business with me.
I knew this was bad. With the woman's business, I'd be in extremely good financial shape. Without the woman's business, I'd be nearly destitute. But I could physically feel my business opportunity with the woman snap shut, like a click at the base of my spine. I also saw the image of an object like a black, plastic makeup disc, snap shut.
There were some other people under the tarp. Most of the people were young. Maybe some of them had been rude and unkind to me, causing me to lose my nerve. I felt like I now needed to fight back against them. I probably knew it wouldn't make a difference regarding the business between me and the women. But I felt like I could at least prove that I wouldn't always lose my nerve when people were mean to me.
But I didn't really have the opportunity to fight back against the young people. Nobody was really paying attention to me anymore. Or, if they were paying attention to me, it was like people would pay attention to some dopey, harmless, but overall nice, friend of theirs.
This mood made me feel more comfortable around everybody. I had originally been standing all by myself, at the very far edge of the tarp. Now I worked my way a little bit in toward the center of the tarp. I was trying to find the older women, to see if I could patch up my relationship with them.
One of the older women was standing behind an easel that had a huge pad of presentation paper propped up on it. I couldn't see the woman. But I knew she had been talking about some problem she was having. It was either an idea problem or a mechanical problem. But as I thought the problem over, I realized I could probably pretty easily come up with the solution.
I tried to get the woman's attention so I could tell her this. But I didn't want to step behind the easel and face her directly until I'd had the opportunity to speak with her a bit and soften the mood between us. I believe I did manage to speak a few words with her. I seemed to be getting back into the woman's good graces.
But as I was doing this, an SUV pulled up maybe about fifty or so meters from the tarp. It was my family. My mother, brother, and some other family members got out of the car. The young people under the tarp pointed out to me that my family was standing over there. They made me feel obliged to check in on my family rather than continue my conversation with the older woman.
Somehow, maybe because it had been pointed out to me by the young people, I knew that the older woman was having some kind of trouble with a tube of lip balm. I knew my brother also had some lip balm. But I was again convinced, somehow, that what I needed to do was fix my brother's lip balm, not the older woman's.
So I walked over to my family's car. My brother showed me his lip balm, which was in a black, plastic, disc-like container. His lip balm may have been fine. In fact, he may have asked me if I wanted any. I had a feeling it would be rude to refuse the offer. But I really didn't want any of his lip balm. I was hesitating, trying to decide whether to accept or refuse.
Showing posts with label older woman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label older woman. Show all posts
Friday, November 2, 2012
Saturday, July 21, 2012
old people slumber party; mr. rogers dances weird; unappetizing kitchen
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was in the apartment of an older couple. It was like the older couple were throwing a slumber party. The older couple may not have been wealthy, but they may have acted wealthy. I was here with at least one other person, probably a girl. It seemed like the other person and I were the age I am in waking life. But sometimes it felt like we may have been little kids, or at least treated like little kids.
At one point I was laying on the couch, under a blanket. A movie may have been playing on the TV, which was beyond the crown of my head, so that I couldn't see it. The old man may have been sitting on my legs. I really didn't want him to be sitting on my legs. I wanted to move around. Then I understood that the old man thought I was actually turned on by what he was doing. He was acting like he was going to have sex with me. I was disgusted and a little afraid.
I had managed to get out from under the old man. I was in the room next to the living room. This room was dim and cluttered. It wasn't a room that quite seemed to have any particular use, even though it was full of stuff. It may have been like a little entrance lobby for the house. The entrance may have been set up a bit on the wall, with a staircase down. Then around the room there may have been a little level like a balcony. On the balcony there may have been a staircase up to a second floor, which I couldn't see.
I went back into the living room. The old man, the old woman, and the girl were all in there. There were probably two couches, one on the wall near me and one on the wall opposite me. Both couches had been folded out and turned into beds, and everybody was deciding how they wanted to sleep for the night. I think the old man had decided he wanted to sleep with me. Because of this, I told everybody that I wasn't actually going to stay for the slumber party.
I went back into the next room. I was fiddling around with some of the clutter in the room, like it was mine and I was getting it together in preparation for leaving. I knew my apartment was just across the street from the old couple's apartment.
But now I remembered a couple of things. It may have been storming outside. There was also some danger outside, like people following me. In fact, the danger of the people following me was why I and the girl had come to have this slumber party with the old couple in the first place. If I left now, I'd have to brave the storm. I'd also have to risk being seen and followed into my own house by the people who were after me.
I reflected on this a little, telling myself I didn't need to be afraid. If I was protected in the house of the old couple, why wouldn't I be protected in my own house? The old couple didn't have anything extra protecting them. They only acted rich. They weren't really rich. And the old man was already trying to attack me in his own way.
So I decided I'd leave for sure. But when I went out to tell everybody I was finally leaving, I looked to see that the person I'd been assigned to sleep with was now the girl. The girl may have looked like my sister. But I felt a lot safer sleeping in bed with the girl than sleeping in bed with the man. Plus, the girl was attractive. I thought it might be fun to spend the night in bed with her.
I lay down on the bed. I was now in some other room, probably on the second floor of the older couple's apartment. I lay on a couch, on my side, under some blankets. The older woman sat in a nice chair by a nice table with a lamp on it. The girl sat somewhere else in the room.
The older woman began asking me all kinds of questions that were supposed to have to do with my level of culture. The way I answered the questions showed how cultured, refined, and civilized I was. But she was asking all the questions in a way that implied that she already knew I wasn't very cultured at all. I may have answered most or all of the questions correctly. But I always had a bad attitude when answering, and I may have suffixed my answers with rude comments.
Eventually the older woman may have gotten into questions which required a lot more thought on my part. When I tried to concentrate on the answers, my mind began wandering. My answers became a tangle of actually answering the question and trying to prove, through aspects of my life history and my own personal intellect and emotions, that I deserved to be thought of as cultured.
But during one of these rambling answers, I actually got a look at my right leg. The right side of my leg, just beside my shinbone, had a hole bored in it. The skin all around the hole was still there. There was just a hole. But all the muscle below the hole was gone. It was just like there was a hollow space, maybe 12cm long, bored into my leg, under my skin. I had some other injuries on my leg, but this one was the worst. It didn't hurt. But I thought it meant bad news for me, like some terminal degenerative disease.
A woman, and possibly her husband, came into the room with a couple of kids. The couple and children were all poorly dressed, overweight, and sloppy. They asked me if I needed a ride home. I already knew that their car was horrible, and that riding home in their car would be an awful experience. So I said no. This made them really upset. But they left anyway. Not long after this, the woman must have dismissed me.
I walked out of the woman's place and headed home. It was like the woman had lived in a mansion. But when I walked out of the place, I was in an industrial looking part of town. All the buildings were tall and boxy, glaring under the bright light of day. All the streets felt desolate and empty.
I walked through one block of streets, then crossed a street. I walked into mid-block space that felt like an alley. As I got into the alley I got a chance to think about my leg again. Was it really safe for me to be walking on my leg like I was, with so much muscle bored out of it? I wondered if my leg could just collapse or break in half while I was walking.
The more I thought about it, the worse I began to feel about my leg. I don't think I ever felt pain. Rather, I think I just got more and more squeamish about the appearance of my leg, until finally even putting weight on my leg made me disgusted. I couldn't put my leg back down on the ground. I was just hopping on my left leg and waving my right leg in the air.
Finally, I was so disgusted with the whole situation that I leaned against a wall. I turned back in the direction that I had come from and started screaming. A car was coming up the alley. I knew that if the drivers saw me in agony, they'd stop for me. Maybe they'd offer me a ride. So as soon as I saw the car, I screamed as melodramatically as I could.
The car drove slowly up to me and then stopped. Now I could see who it was. It was the family that had offered me a ride at the woman's mansion. Their car was a shade of midnight blue in places, with the paint job really sparkly. But the car was all dented and bashed in. And whole patches -- whole square patches -- of the car were repainted in various shades of dull black and dull blue. The interior of the car was no better. I could see that it had all been torn up.
The woman of the family was driving the car. She looked terrible. The husband also looked terrible. Their faces were all messed up, like they had been in a lot of fist fights. Their eyes may even have been twisted around in weird ways. There may have been two kids in the backseat: a boy and a girl: pretty, tan, with pale-blonde hair.
The woman asked me if I wanted a ride. I told her no. But now she was really upset. She said something like this time she wouldn't take no for an answer, and that if I was going to say no, I was going to pay for it. The woman was going to do something physically violent to me. But I didn't know what.
Dream #2
A view of Mr. Rogers in an empty room, dancing. The room had deep blue carpet and white walls. The walls were really tall, and the room was wide and long. Mr. Rogers stood at the back end of the room, dancing in place.
At first Mr. Rogers looked like his usual self: short hair, button-up shirt, sweater, and slacks. His hair was a little darker than usual, and he looked a little younger than usual. I thought I must have been watching an old show of his. At some points, I may have had views in my mind's eye of Mr. Rogers standing by a window and watering some plants.
But then the dancing Mr. Rogers started looking a lot weirder. His hair grew out really long, and he was now wearing a deep blue flannel shirt and blue jeans. His dancing became a lot weirder, too. He kept dancing in place, but he was flailing all over the place.
My view lifted up into a high view, like I was looking down from the ceiling. Two announcers began speaking. They were talking about how Mr. Rogers had been gay, and how he had basically given himself up to a whole lot of the top men in Hollywood.
One announcer said something about how Mr. Roger's memoirs, which spoke about all his sexual affairs, were like a who's who of the entertainment industry. The announcer mentioned one actor he was particularly surprised to see on Mr. Roger's list of lovers.
My view shifted downward and a bit to the left. I could now see a doorway on the right wall, near the back end of the room. Mr. Rogers continued dancing.
The other announcer said, "And William Shatner. That was a big surprise, too. Who would have guessed William Shatner was a waif?"
I had an image in my mind's eye of a long walkway fading into the distance. The walkway was either made out of concrete or gym-mat material. It had a brownish-tan color.
Back in the room, I understood that what the announcer had meant by calling William Shatner a "waif" was that William Shatner often played out sexual fantasies where he was a young, waif-like fashion model. Shatner would be very submissive to the man playing out the sexual fantasy opposite him.
I now had a peacock feather before me. The feather was held upside down, and all the hairlike parts of the feather surrounding the blue eyes were frayed out and tattered.
Dream #3
I had come out of some room, where I had possibly been engaged in some activity with two attractive brunette women. I walked into a dim kitchen. The kitchen was really cluttered with food that either hadn't been put away or couldn't be put away because there was no more space.
My mom was in the kitchen. It was like she was part of whatever I'd been a part of, or else she'd been waiting for me to finish it. Now she'd drive me home.
But first, my mom may have told me she was going to eat something out of the kitchen. She asked if I'd like something. She listed off a few things this kitchen had. Most of the stuff didn't sound good to me. But she mentioned those peanuts with the pink candy shell that you can sometimes get out of vending machines. I really liked those.
But I still didn't know if I really wanted to eat right now. My mom got really angry and offended. She told me she'd made an offer to me, and how could I refuse it? I relented and said I'd take some of those candy peanuts.
My mom happily walked to some part of the kitchen where I couldn't see her. When she came back she told me that the vending machine was all out of peanuts. She asked if she could get me something else. She said that some other things were gone, too. So she told me a new list of things that I could have.
I really didn't want anything. I hadn't really even wanted the candy peanuts. I told my mom I might just wait until we got back home to eat. I hoped I could appease her by telling her that when we got to the house, she could cook me something, if she liked. It was just that I wasn't hungry right now, and nothing here was really interesting me. I hoped this would satisfy my mom. But I had a feeling she'd still be angry.
Dream #1
I was in the apartment of an older couple. It was like the older couple were throwing a slumber party. The older couple may not have been wealthy, but they may have acted wealthy. I was here with at least one other person, probably a girl. It seemed like the other person and I were the age I am in waking life. But sometimes it felt like we may have been little kids, or at least treated like little kids.
At one point I was laying on the couch, under a blanket. A movie may have been playing on the TV, which was beyond the crown of my head, so that I couldn't see it. The old man may have been sitting on my legs. I really didn't want him to be sitting on my legs. I wanted to move around. Then I understood that the old man thought I was actually turned on by what he was doing. He was acting like he was going to have sex with me. I was disgusted and a little afraid.
I had managed to get out from under the old man. I was in the room next to the living room. This room was dim and cluttered. It wasn't a room that quite seemed to have any particular use, even though it was full of stuff. It may have been like a little entrance lobby for the house. The entrance may have been set up a bit on the wall, with a staircase down. Then around the room there may have been a little level like a balcony. On the balcony there may have been a staircase up to a second floor, which I couldn't see.
I went back into the living room. The old man, the old woman, and the girl were all in there. There were probably two couches, one on the wall near me and one on the wall opposite me. Both couches had been folded out and turned into beds, and everybody was deciding how they wanted to sleep for the night. I think the old man had decided he wanted to sleep with me. Because of this, I told everybody that I wasn't actually going to stay for the slumber party.
I went back into the next room. I was fiddling around with some of the clutter in the room, like it was mine and I was getting it together in preparation for leaving. I knew my apartment was just across the street from the old couple's apartment.
But now I remembered a couple of things. It may have been storming outside. There was also some danger outside, like people following me. In fact, the danger of the people following me was why I and the girl had come to have this slumber party with the old couple in the first place. If I left now, I'd have to brave the storm. I'd also have to risk being seen and followed into my own house by the people who were after me.
I reflected on this a little, telling myself I didn't need to be afraid. If I was protected in the house of the old couple, why wouldn't I be protected in my own house? The old couple didn't have anything extra protecting them. They only acted rich. They weren't really rich. And the old man was already trying to attack me in his own way.
So I decided I'd leave for sure. But when I went out to tell everybody I was finally leaving, I looked to see that the person I'd been assigned to sleep with was now the girl. The girl may have looked like my sister. But I felt a lot safer sleeping in bed with the girl than sleeping in bed with the man. Plus, the girl was attractive. I thought it might be fun to spend the night in bed with her.
I lay down on the bed. I was now in some other room, probably on the second floor of the older couple's apartment. I lay on a couch, on my side, under some blankets. The older woman sat in a nice chair by a nice table with a lamp on it. The girl sat somewhere else in the room.
The older woman began asking me all kinds of questions that were supposed to have to do with my level of culture. The way I answered the questions showed how cultured, refined, and civilized I was. But she was asking all the questions in a way that implied that she already knew I wasn't very cultured at all. I may have answered most or all of the questions correctly. But I always had a bad attitude when answering, and I may have suffixed my answers with rude comments.
Eventually the older woman may have gotten into questions which required a lot more thought on my part. When I tried to concentrate on the answers, my mind began wandering. My answers became a tangle of actually answering the question and trying to prove, through aspects of my life history and my own personal intellect and emotions, that I deserved to be thought of as cultured.
But during one of these rambling answers, I actually got a look at my right leg. The right side of my leg, just beside my shinbone, had a hole bored in it. The skin all around the hole was still there. There was just a hole. But all the muscle below the hole was gone. It was just like there was a hollow space, maybe 12cm long, bored into my leg, under my skin. I had some other injuries on my leg, but this one was the worst. It didn't hurt. But I thought it meant bad news for me, like some terminal degenerative disease.
A woman, and possibly her husband, came into the room with a couple of kids. The couple and children were all poorly dressed, overweight, and sloppy. They asked me if I needed a ride home. I already knew that their car was horrible, and that riding home in their car would be an awful experience. So I said no. This made them really upset. But they left anyway. Not long after this, the woman must have dismissed me.
I walked out of the woman's place and headed home. It was like the woman had lived in a mansion. But when I walked out of the place, I was in an industrial looking part of town. All the buildings were tall and boxy, glaring under the bright light of day. All the streets felt desolate and empty.
I walked through one block of streets, then crossed a street. I walked into mid-block space that felt like an alley. As I got into the alley I got a chance to think about my leg again. Was it really safe for me to be walking on my leg like I was, with so much muscle bored out of it? I wondered if my leg could just collapse or break in half while I was walking.
The more I thought about it, the worse I began to feel about my leg. I don't think I ever felt pain. Rather, I think I just got more and more squeamish about the appearance of my leg, until finally even putting weight on my leg made me disgusted. I couldn't put my leg back down on the ground. I was just hopping on my left leg and waving my right leg in the air.
Finally, I was so disgusted with the whole situation that I leaned against a wall. I turned back in the direction that I had come from and started screaming. A car was coming up the alley. I knew that if the drivers saw me in agony, they'd stop for me. Maybe they'd offer me a ride. So as soon as I saw the car, I screamed as melodramatically as I could.
The car drove slowly up to me and then stopped. Now I could see who it was. It was the family that had offered me a ride at the woman's mansion. Their car was a shade of midnight blue in places, with the paint job really sparkly. But the car was all dented and bashed in. And whole patches -- whole square patches -- of the car were repainted in various shades of dull black and dull blue. The interior of the car was no better. I could see that it had all been torn up.
The woman of the family was driving the car. She looked terrible. The husband also looked terrible. Their faces were all messed up, like they had been in a lot of fist fights. Their eyes may even have been twisted around in weird ways. There may have been two kids in the backseat: a boy and a girl: pretty, tan, with pale-blonde hair.
The woman asked me if I wanted a ride. I told her no. But now she was really upset. She said something like this time she wouldn't take no for an answer, and that if I was going to say no, I was going to pay for it. The woman was going to do something physically violent to me. But I didn't know what.
Dream #2
A view of Mr. Rogers in an empty room, dancing. The room had deep blue carpet and white walls. The walls were really tall, and the room was wide and long. Mr. Rogers stood at the back end of the room, dancing in place.
At first Mr. Rogers looked like his usual self: short hair, button-up shirt, sweater, and slacks. His hair was a little darker than usual, and he looked a little younger than usual. I thought I must have been watching an old show of his. At some points, I may have had views in my mind's eye of Mr. Rogers standing by a window and watering some plants.
But then the dancing Mr. Rogers started looking a lot weirder. His hair grew out really long, and he was now wearing a deep blue flannel shirt and blue jeans. His dancing became a lot weirder, too. He kept dancing in place, but he was flailing all over the place.
My view lifted up into a high view, like I was looking down from the ceiling. Two announcers began speaking. They were talking about how Mr. Rogers had been gay, and how he had basically given himself up to a whole lot of the top men in Hollywood.
One announcer said something about how Mr. Roger's memoirs, which spoke about all his sexual affairs, were like a who's who of the entertainment industry. The announcer mentioned one actor he was particularly surprised to see on Mr. Roger's list of lovers.
My view shifted downward and a bit to the left. I could now see a doorway on the right wall, near the back end of the room. Mr. Rogers continued dancing.
The other announcer said, "And William Shatner. That was a big surprise, too. Who would have guessed William Shatner was a waif?"
I had an image in my mind's eye of a long walkway fading into the distance. The walkway was either made out of concrete or gym-mat material. It had a brownish-tan color.
Back in the room, I understood that what the announcer had meant by calling William Shatner a "waif" was that William Shatner often played out sexual fantasies where he was a young, waif-like fashion model. Shatner would be very submissive to the man playing out the sexual fantasy opposite him.
I now had a peacock feather before me. The feather was held upside down, and all the hairlike parts of the feather surrounding the blue eyes were frayed out and tattered.
Dream #3
I had come out of some room, where I had possibly been engaged in some activity with two attractive brunette women. I walked into a dim kitchen. The kitchen was really cluttered with food that either hadn't been put away or couldn't be put away because there was no more space.
My mom was in the kitchen. It was like she was part of whatever I'd been a part of, or else she'd been waiting for me to finish it. Now she'd drive me home.
But first, my mom may have told me she was going to eat something out of the kitchen. She asked if I'd like something. She listed off a few things this kitchen had. Most of the stuff didn't sound good to me. But she mentioned those peanuts with the pink candy shell that you can sometimes get out of vending machines. I really liked those.
But I still didn't know if I really wanted to eat right now. My mom got really angry and offended. She told me she'd made an offer to me, and how could I refuse it? I relented and said I'd take some of those candy peanuts.
My mom happily walked to some part of the kitchen where I couldn't see her. When she came back she told me that the vending machine was all out of peanuts. She asked if she could get me something else. She said that some other things were gone, too. So she told me a new list of things that I could have.
I really didn't want anything. I hadn't really even wanted the candy peanuts. I told my mom I might just wait until we got back home to eat. I hoped I could appease her by telling her that when we got to the house, she could cook me something, if she liked. It was just that I wasn't hungry right now, and nothing here was really interesting me. I hoped this would satisfy my mom. But I had a feeling she'd still be angry.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
crashes; warning of crashes
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
Three aircraft seemed to have crashed, one after the other. The aircraft were something like rocket planes, like the X-15. The crafts may have had something like pipes sticking up and out of them.
Each craft had a name. The name had some individual name and then some general name, so that all the crafts had the general name in their name. The first two aircraft had people's names, possibly the names of celebrities, possibly the names of regular people. The third craft had some kind of special name, either the name of a very famous celebrity or the name of a very famous aircraft.
Dream #2
An older woman and a younger woman were somewhere. The younger woman may have been preparing to head out somewhere. The older woman warned the younger woman about the possibility, in the area the younger woman was heading to, of airplane crashes. The older woman listed the names of aircraft she believed could crash. These were the same aircraft as in my first dream.
The younger woman didn't take the older woman's advice totally seriously. She knew that where she was going there was a high risk of plane crashes. And she may have had the idea that the older woman was experienced enough with these things to know what she was talking about. But she mainly thought that the older woman's advice was the result of being overly concerned for the younger woman. The younger woman seemed to think this was kind of cute.
***
UPDATE: A discussion of some images I believe are related to these dreams can be found in this entry of my dreamday journal.
Dream #1
Three aircraft seemed to have crashed, one after the other. The aircraft were something like rocket planes, like the X-15. The crafts may have had something like pipes sticking up and out of them.
Each craft had a name. The name had some individual name and then some general name, so that all the crafts had the general name in their name. The first two aircraft had people's names, possibly the names of celebrities, possibly the names of regular people. The third craft had some kind of special name, either the name of a very famous celebrity or the name of a very famous aircraft.
Dream #2
An older woman and a younger woman were somewhere. The younger woman may have been preparing to head out somewhere. The older woman warned the younger woman about the possibility, in the area the younger woman was heading to, of airplane crashes. The older woman listed the names of aircraft she believed could crash. These were the same aircraft as in my first dream.
The younger woman didn't take the older woman's advice totally seriously. She knew that where she was going there was a high risk of plane crashes. And she may have had the idea that the older woman was experienced enough with these things to know what she was talking about. But she mainly thought that the older woman's advice was the result of being overly concerned for the younger woman. The younger woman seemed to think this was kind of cute.
***
UPDATE: A discussion of some images I believe are related to these dreams can be found in this entry of my dreamday journal.
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