Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I had probably been involved in some crime. I was probably partners in crime with another man, possibly my brother. The crime may have been something conventional, such as stealing something or harming somebody. But it may rather have been something more unconventional and just, like a crime of civil disobedience. I had been blamed for this crime only recently. I was now on the run from the people who were pursuing me to arrest me.
I was running through a gigantic tunnel underpass, like a huge tunnel that might pass under a river or a mountain. The walls of the tunnel were green and flat, like the background of an old comic book style cartoon series. I was running on a ledge or walkway that looked out over the traffic in the tunnel. There were four or five lanes of cars, all with the traffic heading in the same direction.
I saw my partner in crime driving in one of the lanes. He may have known I was attempting to flee. He may have brought his car here in order to help me flee. He hadn't been helping me before. In fact, I felt like he had done something to shift the blame for the crime off of him and onto me. But for some reason he was helping me now.
My partner's car looked like a cartoon version of the Batmobile. I somehow jumped from the ledge and toward the car, which was at least ten meters away from where I stood. I descended through a slot-like hole in the top of a bubble-like dome that went over the passenger seat of the car.
Landing in the car, I slid as far down in the seat as I could, so that it would look like there was nobody in the passenger seat. I knew there were police on the lookout for me everywhere. I imagined two or three police cars up ahead, monitoring all the cars that passed for any trace of someone who looked like me.
The tunnel was packed with traffic. But we seemed to be moving steadily. My partner, most likely my brother, began talking to me about where we were going. As he spoke, we seemed to be accelerating. We also seemed to be moving down a slope.
My brother said that we had both been called to a place where we were going to learn how to fly SR-71 Blackbirds. The place we were going to was called the Global Education Center. We had been chosen to train as some kind of special agents at this place because of our unique abilities.
My brother and I were now before an instructor at the Global Education Center. The instructor told us all the stuff we would learn in order to be SR-71 pilots. One of the things we would learn was how to handle the button that would drop a nuclear bomb from the jet. I imagined a red, missile-shaped button amid a black configuration that must have been a keyboard but that looked like the nose of an SR-71.
I told the instructor that I didn't want to know how to drop a nuclear bomb. I didn't want to have anything to do with nuclear bombs. I asked him if I could take all the rest of the training and fly the SR-71 in some capacity other than that of a potential bomb dropper. The instructor was probably disappointed in me. He may have told me no, that if I wasn't going to learn all the aspects of the SR-71, that I couldn't learn any of them.
I had the feeling that the instructor was getting ready to kick me out of the Global Education Center. The instructor may have been getting ready to do something even worse to me, such as imprison me as a person who now "knew too much" to be allowed back among civilians. He may even have been planning to erase my memory or even kill me.
But I was less concerned about all of this than I was about being thought weak by my instructor. I started justifying my thoughts, proving to myself that my desire not to drop the bomb hadn't been weak. And I started convincing myself that my instructor really did like me, and that he really did have plans to use me in some other capacity at the Global Education Center.
Showing posts with label sr-71 blackbird. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sr-71 blackbird. Show all posts
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Sunday, December 2, 2012
packed runway; aunt and stalkers; gap in the wall; mother in hospital
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was probably in the cockpit of a small airliner, taxiing down the runway. The runway seemed to be in some kind of military base. The runway may have been cluttered, or it may have been bordered by a lot of clutter. I was involved with whatever operations took place at the base. I was in the cockpit with someone else who worked at the base. This person may have been piloting the airplane. I was acting as more of a passenger.
We were trying to get up to a part of the runway where we'd be able to lift off. But there was some delay up ahead. I felt kind of inconvenienced, but I tried not to. I knew that the delay up ahead was being caused by something I'd normally be in awe of.
We now approached what I thought may have been the cause of delay. It was a gigantic aircraft. The gigantic aircraft moved along on an awkward set of wheels that looked like stilts made out of chrome bars, like the chrome frames of a hospital bed, at the bottom of which were smallish (for such a large aircraft) wheels. The body of the aircraft was beautiful: like a mix between an F-117, a B-2, and an SR-71. But it was a gigantic craft.
At first I thought we were going to taxi our airliner underneath the aircraft. I was a little afraid to do this, but I also wanted to do it. But we turned off to the right and worked our way over to a runway that almost sent us back in the direction we had come from.
As we taxied away, I heard or understood that the gigantic aircraft was an F-XXX (can't remember the number, maybe something like 149). I was a little surprised. I'd thought the craft was a B-2. I was a little ashamed of myself for having thought the craft could have had the name "B-2." I really thought the craft was what I knew as a B-2, and that I had just mistakenly concocted the name "B-2." I couldn't believe I had gotten the model name so wrong.
We may eventually have ended up flying. While in the air, we may have seen one or two other strange aircraft. We then landed. I, as well as a number of other pilots who had been out flying today, was walking through a hallway like a school hallway, to get to a classroom where I, and the others, would apparently review the day's flights.
I walked into the classroom, holding a few photos with me. I may have been disappointed in myself. Perhaps I hadn't remembered certain aspects of my flight. Perhaps I had gotten so afraid at one point during my flight that I'd closed my eyes or blocked my perception out in some other way. Whatever had happened, I felt like I had missed some aspect of my flight, and I was disappointed. But I was also trying, somehow, to prove that I actually hadn't missed anything from my flight.
I shuffled through the photos in my hands. The photos were glossy and about the size of a standard sheet of paper. Either I had taken the photos or the photos had been taken from the airplane I had been in. The photos were of an X-15 rocket.
The photos mainly showed the X-15 right as and just after it had lifted off the ground (although, in actuality, X-15s, as far as I know, never lifted off the ground but were dropped from the wings of a larger plane at about 45,000 feet altitude, where they would begin flying on their own).
I was disappointed with myself for having been so close to an X-15 in action but either not having remembered it or having been so afraid of whatever flight patterns my own craft was going through that I had blocked out all my perception, including my perception of the X-15. I may have looked closer at the photos, hoping to see something that would spark a living memory in my head.
But now I began to doubt that the vehicle in the photos was even an X-15 at all. It had a strange shape for an X-15. It was broad and triangular instead of thin and stub-winged. It actually reminded me of (what I would have recognized in waking life as) an F-35. But I began to justify the shape to myself, saying that, of course, I'd only seen the X-15 from a couple different angles and that, at angles I wasn't familiar with, the X-15 might look kind of awkward to me.
Dream #2
I was in an office. I had come into this part of the office to take care of some kind of work that I usually didn't have to take care of. The part of the office I was first in may have been dim and grey, like all the lights were off and the only light was coming from a window in a separate room or a part of this room that was blocked off from my part of the room by a big partition.
Some guy, or a few guys, in the office had always been following me around, trying to prove that I was doing something illegal. But this place was an area I didn't usually go to. The guys following me didn't expect me to come here. I was all by myself in the room for a moment. But soon I could feel the guys coming after me, to stalk and skulk around behind me. I got the image of the guys being little, bug-eyed semi-humans enshrouded in trench coats and massive fedoras.
Feeling followed again, I immediately decided to walk somewhere else, at least to throw the guys off my trail for a moment or two. I was also hoping that, if I went somewhere totally unusual and the guys were following me even to that place, that I could really prove to myself that I was being stalked. I could then hopefully do something about it. But, more than that, I just simply wanted to throw the guys off my trail and be by myself.
I was outside, walking on a sidewalk like the sidewalk that runs along a street along the top of the slope outside my old elementary school. My aunt M was there, putting a little baby and her car seat into the front seat of a shiny, red SUV.
When my aunt saw me she called to me, insisting that I take a ride with her. I really didn't want to take a ride with her. I was afraid that since she smoked her car would smell like smoke, which was kind of disgusting to me. I also wasn't too interested in listening to my aunt M talk during a car ride.
I tried to make up some polite excuse for not riding with my aunt. But as I approached her car, she continued to insist that I ride with her. She was even already moving the baby and car seat out of the front seat and into the backseat.
I resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to ride with my aunt. I got into the car and tried to act happy, hoping there was something happy and distracting I could immediately get talking about with my aunt, in order to mask the fact that I didn't want to be here at all.
Dream #3
I was in "my bedroom," possibly with one or more of my family members. My bedroom may have had two cheap-looking beds in it. The room was, otherwise, pretty barren. I lay on my left side on the floor, looking underneath my bed while my family member(s) probably sat in a chair (or chairs).
A man came into the room. He had been here to check out some problem I'd been having in my house. Immediately he went to the wall next to the bed I was facing. The man pointed out a big gap running along the bottom of the wall and said, "Oh. Yep. I knew it. There it is, right there."
The gap looked like an even strip of space that normally would have been covered up by something, maybe a floorboard. It was like it was customary for the drywall of the wall ended about half an inch from the floor, and that a strip of floorboard -- or something else -- was customarily installed to cover up the gap. But whatever had been there was now gone, either torn off, worn away, or something.
The man said, "Yep. That's just what the mice are getting through." I now had a vague memory of having suspected, without actually having seen, mice in my room. But now the man confirmed it with me. I had a mouse problem. I looked for some other evidence of this. In the shadows under the bed I searched for mouse droppings. I thought I saw a little sliver of something that could either have been a scraping of dirt from my shoes or a (very large) mouse dropping.
The man somehow (the bed was still, as far as I know, pushed flush against the wall, so that nobody could get between the bed and the wall) ran his finger along the wall, pointing out the gap. He said, "I had a suspicion, because your next door neighbor is also having mouse problems. And, you see, the mice come in through the walls. Then they use this gap, on both sides, to go into your place and his."
I tried to see how my room was connected to my neighbor's room by this gap. I thought I should be able to see into my neighbor's room if both our rooms were connected. But I couldn't see into his room. Instead, just beyond the gap was another layer of drywall that went securely down all the way to the floor, thus sealing off my room from my neighbor's room.
Dream #4
I was in physical therapy room in a hospital, watching my mom do physical therapy. My mom had recently gotten done with some kind of operation. But she seemed to be progressing well. Her performance during physical therapy, though it wasn't phenomenal, seemed to show that she would be able to get released from the hospital and go home soon.
I walked out of the physical therapy room and down the hallway. I may possibly have been planning to meet my mom in her hospital room. I may even have been planning to get my mom ready to be released and go home.
The room my mom was in may have seemed a lot like an intensive care room in a hospital, cluttered with a lot of life support and monitoring machinery. The room may have held two beds, with a curtain separating one bed area from the other.
I was surprised to find my mom's bed empty. I had been expecting my mom to get back to the room before I did. I had a bad feeling that this meant something wasn't good with my mom's health and that my mom wouldn't be able to get out of the hospital today.
Now a group of doctors and nurses rushed my mom into the room and laid her on her bed. My mom looked pale and sweaty. Her hospital gown was almost hanging off her chest, almost exposing her right breast. I had a bad feeling about my mom, like she had suddenly taken a turn for the worst.
The doctors and nurses left the room. The room also changed a bit. My mom's bed was the only bed in the room. The bed was almost in the center of the room. The bed was turned so the head faced the door. My mom was in a half-sitting position on the bed, so it was like her back was to the door. The room was a lot dimmer than before. The only light coming into the room was hallway light that came in from a window to my mom's left. The window was shaded by half-turned Venetian blinds.
My mom must have felt like she was going to die. She began reflecting on her life, talking to me about the things she felt she should be proud of. She felt that the way she had lived her life was very unique. The uniqueness came, my mom felt, from the fact that she had made choices with her heart, because she had cared about people.
My mom then said, "And I'm the only person in my whole family who graduated from high school. Nobody else did that." That statement kind of scattered my brains for a moment. After reflecting for a moment, I knew that my mom meant that between herself, her sister, her father, and her mother, my mom was the only one to have graduated from high school.
I considered my mom's life for a moment. I thought that, given all her life's difficulties, she actually had been able to do a lot of things that she should be proud of.
Dream #1
I was probably in the cockpit of a small airliner, taxiing down the runway. The runway seemed to be in some kind of military base. The runway may have been cluttered, or it may have been bordered by a lot of clutter. I was involved with whatever operations took place at the base. I was in the cockpit with someone else who worked at the base. This person may have been piloting the airplane. I was acting as more of a passenger.
We were trying to get up to a part of the runway where we'd be able to lift off. But there was some delay up ahead. I felt kind of inconvenienced, but I tried not to. I knew that the delay up ahead was being caused by something I'd normally be in awe of.
We now approached what I thought may have been the cause of delay. It was a gigantic aircraft. The gigantic aircraft moved along on an awkward set of wheels that looked like stilts made out of chrome bars, like the chrome frames of a hospital bed, at the bottom of which were smallish (for such a large aircraft) wheels. The body of the aircraft was beautiful: like a mix between an F-117, a B-2, and an SR-71. But it was a gigantic craft.
At first I thought we were going to taxi our airliner underneath the aircraft. I was a little afraid to do this, but I also wanted to do it. But we turned off to the right and worked our way over to a runway that almost sent us back in the direction we had come from.
As we taxied away, I heard or understood that the gigantic aircraft was an F-XXX (can't remember the number, maybe something like 149). I was a little surprised. I'd thought the craft was a B-2. I was a little ashamed of myself for having thought the craft could have had the name "B-2." I really thought the craft was what I knew as a B-2, and that I had just mistakenly concocted the name "B-2." I couldn't believe I had gotten the model name so wrong.
We may eventually have ended up flying. While in the air, we may have seen one or two other strange aircraft. We then landed. I, as well as a number of other pilots who had been out flying today, was walking through a hallway like a school hallway, to get to a classroom where I, and the others, would apparently review the day's flights.
I walked into the classroom, holding a few photos with me. I may have been disappointed in myself. Perhaps I hadn't remembered certain aspects of my flight. Perhaps I had gotten so afraid at one point during my flight that I'd closed my eyes or blocked my perception out in some other way. Whatever had happened, I felt like I had missed some aspect of my flight, and I was disappointed. But I was also trying, somehow, to prove that I actually hadn't missed anything from my flight.
I shuffled through the photos in my hands. The photos were glossy and about the size of a standard sheet of paper. Either I had taken the photos or the photos had been taken from the airplane I had been in. The photos were of an X-15 rocket.
The photos mainly showed the X-15 right as and just after it had lifted off the ground (although, in actuality, X-15s, as far as I know, never lifted off the ground but were dropped from the wings of a larger plane at about 45,000 feet altitude, where they would begin flying on their own).
I was disappointed with myself for having been so close to an X-15 in action but either not having remembered it or having been so afraid of whatever flight patterns my own craft was going through that I had blocked out all my perception, including my perception of the X-15. I may have looked closer at the photos, hoping to see something that would spark a living memory in my head.
But now I began to doubt that the vehicle in the photos was even an X-15 at all. It had a strange shape for an X-15. It was broad and triangular instead of thin and stub-winged. It actually reminded me of (what I would have recognized in waking life as) an F-35. But I began to justify the shape to myself, saying that, of course, I'd only seen the X-15 from a couple different angles and that, at angles I wasn't familiar with, the X-15 might look kind of awkward to me.
Dream #2
I was in an office. I had come into this part of the office to take care of some kind of work that I usually didn't have to take care of. The part of the office I was first in may have been dim and grey, like all the lights were off and the only light was coming from a window in a separate room or a part of this room that was blocked off from my part of the room by a big partition.
Some guy, or a few guys, in the office had always been following me around, trying to prove that I was doing something illegal. But this place was an area I didn't usually go to. The guys following me didn't expect me to come here. I was all by myself in the room for a moment. But soon I could feel the guys coming after me, to stalk and skulk around behind me. I got the image of the guys being little, bug-eyed semi-humans enshrouded in trench coats and massive fedoras.
Feeling followed again, I immediately decided to walk somewhere else, at least to throw the guys off my trail for a moment or two. I was also hoping that, if I went somewhere totally unusual and the guys were following me even to that place, that I could really prove to myself that I was being stalked. I could then hopefully do something about it. But, more than that, I just simply wanted to throw the guys off my trail and be by myself.
I was outside, walking on a sidewalk like the sidewalk that runs along a street along the top of the slope outside my old elementary school. My aunt M was there, putting a little baby and her car seat into the front seat of a shiny, red SUV.
When my aunt saw me she called to me, insisting that I take a ride with her. I really didn't want to take a ride with her. I was afraid that since she smoked her car would smell like smoke, which was kind of disgusting to me. I also wasn't too interested in listening to my aunt M talk during a car ride.
I tried to make up some polite excuse for not riding with my aunt. But as I approached her car, she continued to insist that I ride with her. She was even already moving the baby and car seat out of the front seat and into the backseat.
I resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to ride with my aunt. I got into the car and tried to act happy, hoping there was something happy and distracting I could immediately get talking about with my aunt, in order to mask the fact that I didn't want to be here at all.
Dream #3
I was in "my bedroom," possibly with one or more of my family members. My bedroom may have had two cheap-looking beds in it. The room was, otherwise, pretty barren. I lay on my left side on the floor, looking underneath my bed while my family member(s) probably sat in a chair (or chairs).
A man came into the room. He had been here to check out some problem I'd been having in my house. Immediately he went to the wall next to the bed I was facing. The man pointed out a big gap running along the bottom of the wall and said, "Oh. Yep. I knew it. There it is, right there."
The gap looked like an even strip of space that normally would have been covered up by something, maybe a floorboard. It was like it was customary for the drywall of the wall ended about half an inch from the floor, and that a strip of floorboard -- or something else -- was customarily installed to cover up the gap. But whatever had been there was now gone, either torn off, worn away, or something.
The man said, "Yep. That's just what the mice are getting through." I now had a vague memory of having suspected, without actually having seen, mice in my room. But now the man confirmed it with me. I had a mouse problem. I looked for some other evidence of this. In the shadows under the bed I searched for mouse droppings. I thought I saw a little sliver of something that could either have been a scraping of dirt from my shoes or a (very large) mouse dropping.
The man somehow (the bed was still, as far as I know, pushed flush against the wall, so that nobody could get between the bed and the wall) ran his finger along the wall, pointing out the gap. He said, "I had a suspicion, because your next door neighbor is also having mouse problems. And, you see, the mice come in through the walls. Then they use this gap, on both sides, to go into your place and his."
I tried to see how my room was connected to my neighbor's room by this gap. I thought I should be able to see into my neighbor's room if both our rooms were connected. But I couldn't see into his room. Instead, just beyond the gap was another layer of drywall that went securely down all the way to the floor, thus sealing off my room from my neighbor's room.
Dream #4
I was in physical therapy room in a hospital, watching my mom do physical therapy. My mom had recently gotten done with some kind of operation. But she seemed to be progressing well. Her performance during physical therapy, though it wasn't phenomenal, seemed to show that she would be able to get released from the hospital and go home soon.
I walked out of the physical therapy room and down the hallway. I may possibly have been planning to meet my mom in her hospital room. I may even have been planning to get my mom ready to be released and go home.
The room my mom was in may have seemed a lot like an intensive care room in a hospital, cluttered with a lot of life support and monitoring machinery. The room may have held two beds, with a curtain separating one bed area from the other.
I was surprised to find my mom's bed empty. I had been expecting my mom to get back to the room before I did. I had a bad feeling that this meant something wasn't good with my mom's health and that my mom wouldn't be able to get out of the hospital today.
Now a group of doctors and nurses rushed my mom into the room and laid her on her bed. My mom looked pale and sweaty. Her hospital gown was almost hanging off her chest, almost exposing her right breast. I had a bad feeling about my mom, like she had suddenly taken a turn for the worst.
The doctors and nurses left the room. The room also changed a bit. My mom's bed was the only bed in the room. The bed was almost in the center of the room. The bed was turned so the head faced the door. My mom was in a half-sitting position on the bed, so it was like her back was to the door. The room was a lot dimmer than before. The only light coming into the room was hallway light that came in from a window to my mom's left. The window was shaded by half-turned Venetian blinds.
My mom must have felt like she was going to die. She began reflecting on her life, talking to me about the things she felt she should be proud of. She felt that the way she had lived her life was very unique. The uniqueness came, my mom felt, from the fact that she had made choices with her heart, because she had cared about people.
My mom then said, "And I'm the only person in my whole family who graduated from high school. Nobody else did that." That statement kind of scattered my brains for a moment. After reflecting for a moment, I knew that my mom meant that between herself, her sister, her father, and her mother, my mom was the only one to have graduated from high school.
I considered my mom's life for a moment. I thought that, given all her life's difficulties, she actually had been able to do a lot of things that she should be proud of.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
space flight delays; girl's tuxedo; dropped phone on face
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was flying around in some craft with probably three other people. I think the craft was a spacecraft, possibly even a space capsule. We may already have gone up into space. We were now flying the craft around, maybe a few thousand meters above desert-mountain landscapes, like the craft was a small plane. Then we landed.
On the ground, probably standing somewhere near the tarmac, I was disappointed in myself. I may have felt like my role in the mission had been almost nothing. I may have felt like people had given me nothing to do. Or I may have felt like I had been too lazy to do anything. I may also have felt like my fear at some point during the mission had ruined some kind of mood for the people around me. Maybe my fear had been during the landing. Or maybe my fear had caused an early landing.
I watched an SR-71 Blackbird come out of the sky. I knew the Blackbird was practicing landings. The plane looked a bit flatter and more brittle than a usual Blackbird, and it had a bit of a milky-bluish tint to its black body. The landing was executed, I knew, almost perfectly. I really admired it as I watched it land and then coast down the runway. But I felt anxiety as I watched it coast away, like I couldn't be actually sure it would come to a complete stop before crashing into something.
I was now in a basement of some building which seems to me now like a hospital. I was in a room full of old scientific equipment: box-shaped monitoring equipment with knobs on the front and cords coming out and so forth, all stacked up on various shelves along the walls. There may also have been some bigger pieces of equipment, almost like dentist chairs or x-ray machines, in the room.
I walked into the hallway. The hallway was kind of cluttered, too. The rest of my crew was somewhere around here. We were all getting ready for a space flight, maybe a flight on a space shuttle. But something about the space flight had been delayed. Somewhere I could see the back end of a rocket booster. It looked really small, and it appeared to be stuffed full of tissue paper.
Some man came up to me. He was tall and strong, and he was carrying an iPad around with him. He was apparently my supervisor. He was trying to find some way to keep me from going on this mission. I'm not sure why. He almost seemed like an Adult Baby Daddy to me. I think he just wanted to keep me from going on the mission because he wanted to keep me from doing anything adult-like.
But there were, I now knew, two flights taking place. The one that had been delayed was the one my supervisor was trying to keep me out of. But there was another one that would take place after that. I had already somehow gotten in contact with my crew members. We had all worked together to set things up so that I could look like I wasn't going on any flights at all when the first flight went off. But I could then sneak into the second flight.
Dream #2
I was in a department store, probably with my mom and a few other people. We were looking around in the girls' clothing section. The floors and walls of the store were white, and the store was filled with a white, fluorescent light.
I stood in front of one rack with my mom. My mom stood to my right. My mom told me I could get any outfit of clothes that I wanted. I looked through the girls' clothes, wanting to get a really pretty outfit. I found an outfit I thought I'd like. I tried it on right then and there.
I could see what it was once I put it on. It was like black dress pants, a black jacket, and some kind of layered, cream-white shirt. The shirt seemed to be of a satiny fabric on the outer layers. But on the inner layers it was a soft fabric, maybe like cashmere.
I wanted to see how I looked. But I didn't want to walk too far around in the store and have other people see me. I saw a mirror attached to a column a couple racks away from where I stood. The column was wide, and the mirror was maybe 250cm tall and 150cm wide.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I don't think I saw my face. My suit looked like a tuxedo. Nothing looked feminine about it except the way that the shirt created this kind of layered v-like pattern along my chest. But my "shoes" were also feminine. They actually were just these big, cream-white, satiny bows attached to the tops of my feet.
I could tell that under this tuxedo, I was actually wearing a dress that looked quite feminine. But I was afraid enough to be around people in public wearing this tuxedo-like outfit. I'd be even more afraid to wear the dress in front of everybody.
As I walked back to the rack, I had an image in my head of a twelve-year-old girl. She had dark olive-colored skin, big, round, brown eyes, and frizzy, blonde and black hair. She wore a tight, blue and green tie-dyed tank top and tight blue jeans. This young girl was really sexy to me. I was hoping she'd come into my life and hit on me.
I was back at the rack, again with my mom standing at my right. I was now reluctant even to have my mother look at me. I didn't want her to know that I liked wearing women's or girls' clothing. And I didn't want her to buy any women's or girls' clothing for me. I felt like if she acted on the idea that I was a transvestite, our relationship would get too embarrassing. The part of me I really didn't want my mom to see were my shoes.
Off to my left I saw a Hispanic family walk up to the girls' clothing section. It looked like a dad, a mom, and two younger children. But I wondered if the twelve-year-old girl I'd fantasized about just a moment ago would be part of this family. I thought that if she was I shouldn't do anything anyway. I wouldn't want to get in trouble with the girl's family. I also didn't want the family to see me as I was, dressed up in girls' clothing. Again, I especially didn't want them to see me in these shoes.
Dream #3
I was in a big vehicle like an SUV, riding through some area like a complex full of tall, wide, sheet-metal-walled warehouses. It was daytime. I was with a whole group of people. I'm not sure exactly where I was sitting. Sometimes I felt like I was in the front seat. Other times I felt like I was in the backseat. I think I always felt like I was on the passenger side.
One of the people I was with was this young guy. He was maybe twenty-five years old. He was tallish, slim, with olive-colored skin and short, curly, black hair. He wore big, black sunglasses and a smallish, pale-blue (?) t-shirt.
It was understood that the guy had a cut or a number of cuts on his face (although these cuts may not have been visible). I'd asked the guy how this had happened. But the guy was too embarrassed to answer. He was trying to make me feel like I shouldn't ask anymore questions. But I needed to know what was going on. The guy had a tendency to overwork himself and injure himself. I wanted to make sure he wasn't doing it again.
So I pushed the guy to answer me. Finally he said, "I made a deal with myself last night that I wouldn't answer my cell phone after midnight. That way I could get some sleep. But I was in bed and I checked my phone at 11:56. There was something on it, so I thought I should take care of it. But I must have fallen asleep as I was doing that. When I fell asleep, I dropped the phone right on my face."
I said, "Oh!.... Oh, no...," like a caring mother would when she wanted to sympathize with her child after he got hurt, yet she also couldn't help seeing a bit of humor in the situation.
I could see the phone in my mind's eye. It was a huge and clunky, as tall as a landline phone's receiver. It had a huge, black antenna coming out of its top. It had a shiny, black face and a dull, grey casing. I imagined the young man dropping the phone on the bridge of his nose, causing a kind of deep gash.
Dream #1
I was flying around in some craft with probably three other people. I think the craft was a spacecraft, possibly even a space capsule. We may already have gone up into space. We were now flying the craft around, maybe a few thousand meters above desert-mountain landscapes, like the craft was a small plane. Then we landed.
On the ground, probably standing somewhere near the tarmac, I was disappointed in myself. I may have felt like my role in the mission had been almost nothing. I may have felt like people had given me nothing to do. Or I may have felt like I had been too lazy to do anything. I may also have felt like my fear at some point during the mission had ruined some kind of mood for the people around me. Maybe my fear had been during the landing. Or maybe my fear had caused an early landing.
I watched an SR-71 Blackbird come out of the sky. I knew the Blackbird was practicing landings. The plane looked a bit flatter and more brittle than a usual Blackbird, and it had a bit of a milky-bluish tint to its black body. The landing was executed, I knew, almost perfectly. I really admired it as I watched it land and then coast down the runway. But I felt anxiety as I watched it coast away, like I couldn't be actually sure it would come to a complete stop before crashing into something.
I was now in a basement of some building which seems to me now like a hospital. I was in a room full of old scientific equipment: box-shaped monitoring equipment with knobs on the front and cords coming out and so forth, all stacked up on various shelves along the walls. There may also have been some bigger pieces of equipment, almost like dentist chairs or x-ray machines, in the room.
I walked into the hallway. The hallway was kind of cluttered, too. The rest of my crew was somewhere around here. We were all getting ready for a space flight, maybe a flight on a space shuttle. But something about the space flight had been delayed. Somewhere I could see the back end of a rocket booster. It looked really small, and it appeared to be stuffed full of tissue paper.
Some man came up to me. He was tall and strong, and he was carrying an iPad around with him. He was apparently my supervisor. He was trying to find some way to keep me from going on this mission. I'm not sure why. He almost seemed like an Adult Baby Daddy to me. I think he just wanted to keep me from going on the mission because he wanted to keep me from doing anything adult-like.
But there were, I now knew, two flights taking place. The one that had been delayed was the one my supervisor was trying to keep me out of. But there was another one that would take place after that. I had already somehow gotten in contact with my crew members. We had all worked together to set things up so that I could look like I wasn't going on any flights at all when the first flight went off. But I could then sneak into the second flight.
Dream #2
I was in a department store, probably with my mom and a few other people. We were looking around in the girls' clothing section. The floors and walls of the store were white, and the store was filled with a white, fluorescent light.
I stood in front of one rack with my mom. My mom stood to my right. My mom told me I could get any outfit of clothes that I wanted. I looked through the girls' clothes, wanting to get a really pretty outfit. I found an outfit I thought I'd like. I tried it on right then and there.
I could see what it was once I put it on. It was like black dress pants, a black jacket, and some kind of layered, cream-white shirt. The shirt seemed to be of a satiny fabric on the outer layers. But on the inner layers it was a soft fabric, maybe like cashmere.
I wanted to see how I looked. But I didn't want to walk too far around in the store and have other people see me. I saw a mirror attached to a column a couple racks away from where I stood. The column was wide, and the mirror was maybe 250cm tall and 150cm wide.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I don't think I saw my face. My suit looked like a tuxedo. Nothing looked feminine about it except the way that the shirt created this kind of layered v-like pattern along my chest. But my "shoes" were also feminine. They actually were just these big, cream-white, satiny bows attached to the tops of my feet.
I could tell that under this tuxedo, I was actually wearing a dress that looked quite feminine. But I was afraid enough to be around people in public wearing this tuxedo-like outfit. I'd be even more afraid to wear the dress in front of everybody.
As I walked back to the rack, I had an image in my head of a twelve-year-old girl. She had dark olive-colored skin, big, round, brown eyes, and frizzy, blonde and black hair. She wore a tight, blue and green tie-dyed tank top and tight blue jeans. This young girl was really sexy to me. I was hoping she'd come into my life and hit on me.
I was back at the rack, again with my mom standing at my right. I was now reluctant even to have my mother look at me. I didn't want her to know that I liked wearing women's or girls' clothing. And I didn't want her to buy any women's or girls' clothing for me. I felt like if she acted on the idea that I was a transvestite, our relationship would get too embarrassing. The part of me I really didn't want my mom to see were my shoes.
Off to my left I saw a Hispanic family walk up to the girls' clothing section. It looked like a dad, a mom, and two younger children. But I wondered if the twelve-year-old girl I'd fantasized about just a moment ago would be part of this family. I thought that if she was I shouldn't do anything anyway. I wouldn't want to get in trouble with the girl's family. I also didn't want the family to see me as I was, dressed up in girls' clothing. Again, I especially didn't want them to see me in these shoes.
Dream #3
I was in a big vehicle like an SUV, riding through some area like a complex full of tall, wide, sheet-metal-walled warehouses. It was daytime. I was with a whole group of people. I'm not sure exactly where I was sitting. Sometimes I felt like I was in the front seat. Other times I felt like I was in the backseat. I think I always felt like I was on the passenger side.
One of the people I was with was this young guy. He was maybe twenty-five years old. He was tallish, slim, with olive-colored skin and short, curly, black hair. He wore big, black sunglasses and a smallish, pale-blue (?) t-shirt.
It was understood that the guy had a cut or a number of cuts on his face (although these cuts may not have been visible). I'd asked the guy how this had happened. But the guy was too embarrassed to answer. He was trying to make me feel like I shouldn't ask anymore questions. But I needed to know what was going on. The guy had a tendency to overwork himself and injure himself. I wanted to make sure he wasn't doing it again.
So I pushed the guy to answer me. Finally he said, "I made a deal with myself last night that I wouldn't answer my cell phone after midnight. That way I could get some sleep. But I was in bed and I checked my phone at 11:56. There was something on it, so I thought I should take care of it. But I must have fallen asleep as I was doing that. When I fell asleep, I dropped the phone right on my face."
I said, "Oh!.... Oh, no...," like a caring mother would when she wanted to sympathize with her child after he got hurt, yet she also couldn't help seeing a bit of humor in the situation.
I could see the phone in my mind's eye. It was a huge and clunky, as tall as a landline phone's receiver. It had a huge, black antenna coming out of its top. It had a shiny, black face and a dull, grey casing. I imagined the young man dropping the phone on the bridge of his nose, causing a kind of deep gash.
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