Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
A view of a map superimposed over a view of a city. In the city it was a rainy afternoon. The sky was very dark. Some form of public transportation was traveling over the map and through the city. I had to use that form of transportation. I think that at first I would use a bus, but that then I would switch to a subway.
A man I probably couldn't see asked me if I would be alright taking the transportation. It was raining, and maybe there were places where I'd have to walk from one stop to the next through the rain. Plus, the overall ride might be a lot longer than I'd expected. But I told the man I'd be okay. If you did the route the right way, it actually went pretty quickly.
I traced the route along the map. As I did, I saw images of a bus, bus stops, the rainy town, and subway stops, all along the route I wanted to take. But there may actually have been some problems with the lines I was looking for. I may have found more difficulty in planning out my route than I'd first expected.
Dream #2
I was at my family's house. I had gone into a bedroom to go to bed. Everybody else was still out in the living room. It was still early in the night. The sky was still light outside, so the light in the bedroom was a dim grey-blue. I lay in a big bed, covered up by a nice, big, white blanket.
I had been chewing on some Corn Flakes cereal at some point in time. From the chewed up pieces of corn flakes, I made one regular sized corn flake. I held it before my face. It was dry and hard, like a regular corn flake. But it looked a little paler and kind of scaly. There may have been some object, like a little earring, at its center.
My second oldest nephew suddenly came into the room. I didn't want him to see that I was looking so intently on a corn flake made up out of other chewed up corn flakes. So I quickly hid the corn flake in my hand and slid my hand under the blanket.
My nephew, thinking I was hiding something like money or candy, immediately became interested. At first he only called attention to the fact that I'd hid something from him. When he did that, another boy, probably my youngest nephew, ran into the room. The two boys ran back and forth at the wall facing the foot of the bed. It was like they were giving all the furniture (not sure what) along that wall a surface inspection for something I might have hidden.
I said something about how I didn't have anything hidden. This convinced the second boy, who left. But my second oldest nephew wasn't convinced. He ran up to the bed and jumped on it. He was on all fours, near my left side. He started calling out how he knew I had hidden whatever I had under the bed. It seemed like if it was candy or money, my nephew felt he absolutely had to know about it.
I didn't realize until this time that my nephew wasn't wearing a shirt. But he was wearing something on his head that looked like he'd turned his shirt into a headdress. The headdress almost looked like the hat of a jester.
Dream #3
Some muscular guy with very smooth, tan skin and probably a bald head, was sitting on a couch. He was either naked or topless. The man was explaining how he was doing something that had something to do with kids. He was bragging about how well he understood kids and what kids needed. He was saying that it was almost like he was a kid himself. But he really just struck me as a big sleaze. I thought I'd watch out for any kids, if he was taking care of them.
The man held a little device in his left hand. It was like two plastic circles connected by a string. The two plastic circles sat side by side and rotated, like fans. The string apparently expanded, so that the two circles would drift apart from each other. But I'm pretty sure I never saw the circles separate. Nevertheless, as the man spoke, I watched either the circles or the shadows of the circles encompass the man's nipples, one circle for each nipple.
Dream #4
As a part of some investigative operation, I had to go to a children's school. I'm pretty sure it was a high school. But it may have been a school for younger children. I had to go to the school with a group of kids. It was like I was a part of the kids' family. This whole "family" may actually have been undercover operatives, like myself, or they may have been an actual family, unaware of the secret investigator role I was playing. I think I acted as myself, at my age. I don't think I took on the identity of a child.
It was the first day of school. Our father, a tall, thin, black man, pulled us up to the front of the school. I was sitting in the front passenger seat of the car. The father parked in a little parking space right before a little sidewalk that led to the front doors of the school. It was a nice, cool morning, with traces of autumn in the air.
The kids got out of the car. It seemed like all the kids were of all different ages. Some of the kids were very young. Some of the kids seemed to wear school uniforms, while others may possibly have been wearing regular clothes. All the other kids ran up to the school building and into the school while I was still getting out of the car.
As I stood out of the car, the father gave me some words of advice. He seemed to know either that I was an operative or that it would be tough for me to go back to school at whatever age I was -- not necessarily because people would see me as being out of place at school at my age, but because people would see me as being the age of everybody else in the school.
There was one kid left in the car. He looked like my oldest nephew, except that he may have been a few years younger than he is in waking life. He crawled up from the backseat to the front seat and buckled himself in.
I walked up to the school building. I had a big book bag with me. It was full of stuff. As I passed through the doors, I realized that I hadn't organized my book bag at all. It would be a big mess.
I was pretty sure this school had a security checkpoint right at the front. I'd have to show my bag, which was a huge mess and would probably make me look suspicious. But I'd also have to show my ID. I knew I had two forms of identification in my bag. But it would probably be a real hassle to find them. This would make me look even more suspicious. Security guards everywhere seemed to hate me. But I was going to make a really bad impression with the security guards at this checkpoint.
Dream #5
I was walking through some town. But I was hungry for a breakfast burrito. I knew there were two places where I could get a breakfast burrito. One was the Connecticut Muffin nearby (which was like the Connecticut Muffin in Fort Greene, Brooklyn -- except that I wasn't in Brooklyn). The other was a place a few blocks down the road from the Connecticut Muffin. I knew the other place made better breakfast burritos. But I had the impulse to have a breakfast burrito as soon as possible. So I decided to head into the Connecticut Muffin.
I walked inside the Connecticut Muffin, which really did look just like the Connecticut Muffin in Fort Greene, except that it had a huge belt-rope line-maze leading up to the order counter. There was almost nobody in the store. So I walked through the maze and up to the front of the line. Now there were two or three people just behind me.
The worker, a young woman with light brown skin and frizzy, black hair, must have asked if she could take my order. But now she said, "Oh, you don't need any help? Okay. I'll get the next person."
I was surprised that the woman had said that. I hadn't remembered her even asking if I wanted help. I said, "No, no. I'd like to get something."
The woman seemed a little disappointed that I wanted to place an order. For some reason I had to give the woman my money before I placed an order. I might have given her a twenty dollar bill, since that was all I had on me. I asked the woman for a breakfast burrito.
The woman replied in a condescending voice, obviously pleased that she didn't have to help me, and handing me back my money (something like fourteen or fifteen dollars?), "Oh, no, we aren't allowed to do breakfast burritos anymore. We lost our license for that. The health inspectors came in and discovered we were serving our burritos at way too cold a temperature."
Showing posts with label security guard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label security guard. Show all posts
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Monday, July 9, 2012
soldier's complaint; table of contents; hello family; big mac sandwich
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
It was daytime. I was standing outside some building like a short, brick school building. I was in line with a bunch of other people. There may have been a few lines of us, all heading toward the doors of this school-like building.
I was with a friend, possibly a woman about my age or a bit younger. My friend and I were talking about something, possibly whatever it was we were in line for. But suddenly I realized that whatever we were in line for was about to start. I needed to hurry through the line!
I hurried through the line. But it wasn't like I was pushing through the line. Instead, it was like the line was just some kind of long, disorganized grouping in front of the doors. I was just walking through this group of people. They didn't even seem to notice me.
There were two sets of doors. I got through both. I was now in the lobby of the building. Just inside the lobby were security guards or police officers doing security inspections on people. With the security activity and the bustling about of people in the lobby, the lobby seemed really busy with people.
A black security officer stopped me. He asked me to open my bag. Apparently I'd been carrying some canvas bag on my shoulder. After looking through my bag, the man asked me to come with him.
The man walked me over to some area just past the lobby, where there was a lot less activity. The man was now Hispanic. He was heavyset and he had graying hair and eyebrows. He was wearing an Army uniform that looked like it was from a few decades ago. The man had a helmet that had netting over it. And he had a rifle with a bayonet on it.
The man took off his helmet. He scratched his hair and played with his helmet -- somehow doing something with his bayonet, maybe scratching his hair with it or hanging his helmet on it. The man then started complaining to me about his boss. His boss was some beautiful, business-like woman. But she was so concerned about something, maybe costs. It was really starting to weigh down on everything everybody was doing here.
The man's boss walked up from behind me. The man, seeing the boss coming, asked me not to tell the boss about how the man had just been complaining.
Dream #2
There was some sort of sketch comedy show or humorous book. The theme of the book was how some politician was messing everything up. The sketches were mainly supposed to be funny. But they all dealt with subject matter that the author felt was very serious. So the sketches were eventually supposed to work up to having really serious, kind of dark overtones.
I was looking at something like a table of contents for all these sketches. It seemed like there were two main kinds of sketches. The sketches may have been about two different political themes or about two different political candidates. It looked like, within these themes, there were a whole bunch of sketches.
I looked closer at the sketches. I followed the development of the sketches for one of the themes in the table of contents. For some reason I started toward the end, or maybe the middle, of the table of contents and worked my way backwards.
I saw, as I worked backwards, that a lot of the earlier sketches didn't actually exist. They simply referred the reader (or the performer of the sketches?) to the later sketches. But the later sketches also referred to later sketches.
As I continued reading backwards, I saw how the table of contents was something more like a path of logic or classification. The sketches weren't all supposed to be performed together. They were supposed to be performed for given situations. So if a performer saw that a certain political situation had occurred today, the performer would consult the table of contents. The table of contents would lead him through certain classificatory steps to determine exactly what sketch he should perform.
But all of the earlier sketches were referring to later sketches. And all the later sketches, I eventually noticed, were referring to only one sketch. So, really, for this entire theme, for which there appeared to be so many sketches, there seemed to be really only one sketch.
I stood back from the table of contents. I now saw how many of the "chapters" in the table of contents were really nothing more than one-line commands for someone to refer to another "chapter," then another "chapter," before reaching the single sketch.
The same idea may have applied to the second theme of the book. I may have tried to figure out whether it did. In doing so, however, I may have caught a glimpse of some other pages in the table of contents.
It appeared that I'd only looked through the first half of the table of contents. It seemed like in the second half, the table of contents became a lot more varied and interesting. The "sketches," though, from what I saw, looked somewhat like mathematical formulae or computer programs, sometimes.
But, for some reason, after having come to such an interesting and cynical conclusion about the first half of the table of contents, I couldn't quite accept that the second half was actually so much better. I think I had come to believe I was smarter and more creative than whoever had created this book.
Now that I saw the second half actually looked varied and interesting, I didn't want to look. I didn't want to have to refashion my ideas about what kind of person had created this book. So I didn't look closely at the second half. I may actually even have shut the book and turned away from it.
Dream #3
I may -- possibly -- have been in a car with my mom. I may have been crouched down in the back seat, on the passenger side, with my back laid on the seat bottom and my head curled up on the seat back. My knees may have been crunched up against the back of the seat. We may have been driving through (?) a warehouse. We may have been trying to avoid someone, maybe cops, maybe criminals.
I was now walking into my family's house. A couple of my nephews were inside. My brother was also there, laying curled up in a big, padded chair. When my nephews saw me walk in, they cheerfully greeted me. My brother looked up and said something like, "Oh, hey, how's it going?"
Dream #4
A documentary about a woman who had done something kind of revolutionary, but in a very kind of homey, middle-America way. Whatever she'd done probably had something to do with saving the environment.
Now the documentary crew was in the kitchen of the woman's house. The woman was standing behind a breakfast bar, and the camera was filming the woman with a shot that started from before the breakfast bar, then worked around the breakfast bar and got into a closeup of the woman's face from inside the kitchen.
The woman had been asked what kind of food she ate, or maybe what kind of food she fixed for her family. She said, "Red meat."
A quiet voice off-camera could be heard to ask, a little incredulously, "Red meat?"
The woman said, "Yeah. People are always surprised by that. They think that, because I did such an environmental thing, I'm supposed to be this big vegetarian. But I'm not. I feed my family red meat a whole lot of the time. In fact, the meal I'm making today is one of my favorites. And it has red meat in it. It's called Big Mac Sandwiches."
The camera showed a microwave that appeared to be suspended over the stove. The front of the microwave was black. The microwave had finished cooking. The woman opened the door of the microwave and pulled something out. It may have looked to me like a clear, glass mixing-bowl full of raw beef.
The woman then sat a tray down on the kitchen table. The tray had green salsa and sour cream on it. The tray sat next to a bunch of homey stuff that cluttered up the table in a comfortable, not messy, way. One or more of the documentary people sat down at the table.
The woman now sat the glass bowl down on the table. I could now see that the bowl was full of something like noodles and pasta sauce. The noodles were flat, wide, and short. The pasta sauce was mixed all around the noodles, so that the whole thing had a reddish tint to it.
I was seeing from the camera's angle still. But I think I also had the feeling that I was sitting at the table. The woman showed the documentary people how you scooped some of the pasta onto a hamburger bun. I assumed that you were then supposed to scoop some sour cream and salsa onto the bun and then close the bun. But the woman didn't do this.
The woman then said, "This is what I call the Big Mac Sandwich." I then realized that "Big Mac" was a joke. It was a play on the word "macaroni," since pasta, or macaroni, was used in the sandwich. "Big Mac Sandwich" really meant "Big Macaroni Sandwich."
***
UPDATE: A discussion of some of the images from these dreams can be found at this entry of my dreamday journal.
UPDATE 2: Added drawing for dream #1, July 10th, 2012, 9:47 AM Mountain Standard Time.
Dream #1
It was daytime. I was standing outside some building like a short, brick school building. I was in line with a bunch of other people. There may have been a few lines of us, all heading toward the doors of this school-like building.
I was with a friend, possibly a woman about my age or a bit younger. My friend and I were talking about something, possibly whatever it was we were in line for. But suddenly I realized that whatever we were in line for was about to start. I needed to hurry through the line!
I hurried through the line. But it wasn't like I was pushing through the line. Instead, it was like the line was just some kind of long, disorganized grouping in front of the doors. I was just walking through this group of people. They didn't even seem to notice me.
There were two sets of doors. I got through both. I was now in the lobby of the building. Just inside the lobby were security guards or police officers doing security inspections on people. With the security activity and the bustling about of people in the lobby, the lobby seemed really busy with people.
A black security officer stopped me. He asked me to open my bag. Apparently I'd been carrying some canvas bag on my shoulder. After looking through my bag, the man asked me to come with him.
The man walked me over to some area just past the lobby, where there was a lot less activity. The man was now Hispanic. He was heavyset and he had graying hair and eyebrows. He was wearing an Army uniform that looked like it was from a few decades ago. The man had a helmet that had netting over it. And he had a rifle with a bayonet on it.
The man took off his helmet. He scratched his hair and played with his helmet -- somehow doing something with his bayonet, maybe scratching his hair with it or hanging his helmet on it. The man then started complaining to me about his boss. His boss was some beautiful, business-like woman. But she was so concerned about something, maybe costs. It was really starting to weigh down on everything everybody was doing here.
The man's boss walked up from behind me. The man, seeing the boss coming, asked me not to tell the boss about how the man had just been complaining.
Dream #2
There was some sort of sketch comedy show or humorous book. The theme of the book was how some politician was messing everything up. The sketches were mainly supposed to be funny. But they all dealt with subject matter that the author felt was very serious. So the sketches were eventually supposed to work up to having really serious, kind of dark overtones.
I was looking at something like a table of contents for all these sketches. It seemed like there were two main kinds of sketches. The sketches may have been about two different political themes or about two different political candidates. It looked like, within these themes, there were a whole bunch of sketches.
I looked closer at the sketches. I followed the development of the sketches for one of the themes in the table of contents. For some reason I started toward the end, or maybe the middle, of the table of contents and worked my way backwards.
I saw, as I worked backwards, that a lot of the earlier sketches didn't actually exist. They simply referred the reader (or the performer of the sketches?) to the later sketches. But the later sketches also referred to later sketches.
As I continued reading backwards, I saw how the table of contents was something more like a path of logic or classification. The sketches weren't all supposed to be performed together. They were supposed to be performed for given situations. So if a performer saw that a certain political situation had occurred today, the performer would consult the table of contents. The table of contents would lead him through certain classificatory steps to determine exactly what sketch he should perform.
But all of the earlier sketches were referring to later sketches. And all the later sketches, I eventually noticed, were referring to only one sketch. So, really, for this entire theme, for which there appeared to be so many sketches, there seemed to be really only one sketch.
I stood back from the table of contents. I now saw how many of the "chapters" in the table of contents were really nothing more than one-line commands for someone to refer to another "chapter," then another "chapter," before reaching the single sketch.
The same idea may have applied to the second theme of the book. I may have tried to figure out whether it did. In doing so, however, I may have caught a glimpse of some other pages in the table of contents.
It appeared that I'd only looked through the first half of the table of contents. It seemed like in the second half, the table of contents became a lot more varied and interesting. The "sketches," though, from what I saw, looked somewhat like mathematical formulae or computer programs, sometimes.
But, for some reason, after having come to such an interesting and cynical conclusion about the first half of the table of contents, I couldn't quite accept that the second half was actually so much better. I think I had come to believe I was smarter and more creative than whoever had created this book.
Now that I saw the second half actually looked varied and interesting, I didn't want to look. I didn't want to have to refashion my ideas about what kind of person had created this book. So I didn't look closely at the second half. I may actually even have shut the book and turned away from it.
Dream #3
I may -- possibly -- have been in a car with my mom. I may have been crouched down in the back seat, on the passenger side, with my back laid on the seat bottom and my head curled up on the seat back. My knees may have been crunched up against the back of the seat. We may have been driving through (?) a warehouse. We may have been trying to avoid someone, maybe cops, maybe criminals.
I was now walking into my family's house. A couple of my nephews were inside. My brother was also there, laying curled up in a big, padded chair. When my nephews saw me walk in, they cheerfully greeted me. My brother looked up and said something like, "Oh, hey, how's it going?"
Dream #4
A documentary about a woman who had done something kind of revolutionary, but in a very kind of homey, middle-America way. Whatever she'd done probably had something to do with saving the environment.
Now the documentary crew was in the kitchen of the woman's house. The woman was standing behind a breakfast bar, and the camera was filming the woman with a shot that started from before the breakfast bar, then worked around the breakfast bar and got into a closeup of the woman's face from inside the kitchen.
The woman had been asked what kind of food she ate, or maybe what kind of food she fixed for her family. She said, "Red meat."
A quiet voice off-camera could be heard to ask, a little incredulously, "Red meat?"
The woman said, "Yeah. People are always surprised by that. They think that, because I did such an environmental thing, I'm supposed to be this big vegetarian. But I'm not. I feed my family red meat a whole lot of the time. In fact, the meal I'm making today is one of my favorites. And it has red meat in it. It's called Big Mac Sandwiches."
The camera showed a microwave that appeared to be suspended over the stove. The front of the microwave was black. The microwave had finished cooking. The woman opened the door of the microwave and pulled something out. It may have looked to me like a clear, glass mixing-bowl full of raw beef.
The woman then sat a tray down on the kitchen table. The tray had green salsa and sour cream on it. The tray sat next to a bunch of homey stuff that cluttered up the table in a comfortable, not messy, way. One or more of the documentary people sat down at the table.
The woman now sat the glass bowl down on the table. I could now see that the bowl was full of something like noodles and pasta sauce. The noodles were flat, wide, and short. The pasta sauce was mixed all around the noodles, so that the whole thing had a reddish tint to it.
I was seeing from the camera's angle still. But I think I also had the feeling that I was sitting at the table. The woman showed the documentary people how you scooped some of the pasta onto a hamburger bun. I assumed that you were then supposed to scoop some sour cream and salsa onto the bun and then close the bun. But the woman didn't do this.
The woman then said, "This is what I call the Big Mac Sandwich." I then realized that "Big Mac" was a joke. It was a play on the word "macaroni," since pasta, or macaroni, was used in the sandwich. "Big Mac Sandwich" really meant "Big Macaroni Sandwich."
***
UPDATE: A discussion of some of the images from these dreams can be found at this entry of my dreamday journal.
UPDATE 2: Added drawing for dream #1, July 10th, 2012, 9:47 AM Mountain Standard Time.
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