changing a boy's diaper; garbage hill

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a living room with a good amount of other people, mostly adults. I may never actually have seen the other adults, even though I could feel that they were all around me.

The room was lit only with a bit of natural light that came from a window on the back wall. There was a couch somewhere. The carpet was thick and grey. The walls may have been thin fake wood.

A little, blonde boy asked me to change his diaper. The boy was beautiful, with bronze-tan skin, pale blue eyes, and long hair. The boy lay down to get his diaper changed. He wasn't wearing a shirt or pants.

It seemed like the boy was new to wearing a diaper. I had to tell him how to lay so that I could get the diaper onto him correctly. I also had to tell him not to worry, that he would be okay wearing a diaper. At a couple points I had to tell the boy to shift or lift his bottom so I could make the diaper fit underneath him better.

I began to realize that I was getting sexually aroused by all of this. I could somehow see that I had an erection, as if I were naked. My arousal was so intense that I didn't know if I could control myself.

I was really afraid of what all the adults around me would think of me. They were all standing around me and the boy in a circle or a dense corridor, even though I still couldn't see them.

Dream #2

I was either on a bus or on a subway train that was traveling at street level, on a street, like a bus would. I was coming to a major bus stop in a part of town near where I lived. I knew my bus stop was actually one or two stops away from this major bus stop.

But I was afraid to get off the bus at my stop. Some young man seemed to be following me on the bus. The young man was pale and thin, with short, sharp hair. He wore sharp, Oakley-style sunglasses and a pale tan windbreaker jacket. I had a feeling that the young man would get off wherever I got off.

I didn't want to get off at the correct stop and make it that much easier for the young man to follow me home. So I got off the bus/train at the main stop. I walked out into a wide, empty parking lot, at the center of which was a shelter for waiting passengers.

The shelter was full of garbage bags, like people came here to dump their garbage. A few people stood around the shelter, probably getting ready to do something with the bags.

I realized that I myself had left garbage bags here. But I'd only left them here temporarily. Now I really needed to take them away. I grabbed the garbage bags I'd left here. I turned away from the shelter to find a better place to throw the bags away.

I was now in a big city street, heading toward an alley. I thought I'd head through the alley to a very busy block that was probably very familiar to me. But the alley was blocked by a hill of garbage bags that ran all the way across the alley and was maybe four or five meters tall.

I was about to turn around and head in some other way. But I saw my co-worker HX walking up toward the hill with garbage bags. Behind HX was a man who seemed familiar to me, even though I couldn't figure out who he was. HX threw her garbage on the hill. Since she did it, I figured it was okay. I kept walking toward the garbage hill, planning to throw my garbage there, too.

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.

child labor; arcade; ethnic showering; buffet; museum stalker; church gym; car show; last episode

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A view of a room in grainy-looking black and white, like an overexposed or extremely zoomed-in shot, but also digitized. A group of small kids, mostly small boys, working in a white grid of small spaces. The boys may have been assembling something. There may have been a conveyor belt somewhere. The boys may have had deeply tanned skin and well-combed, short hair.

Dream #2

I was in an empty arcade with one other guy. The arcade was so quiet, it felt like it may even have closed down. The guy and I may in fact have found our way in here by accident. So we decided to play some games.

There was a wide arcade console near the front window (to my left) that played the old game Centipede. My friend told me we should play Centipede. I told him I'd never played it before (???). He told me he'd teach me.

The game started up. It had the same primitive graphics as the old Centipede game. But instead of controlling a figure down at the bottom, you actually controlled a little blob that was a piece of the centipede as it ran downward through the screen. The piece of centipede had the ability to shoot. There was at least one long centipede running through the screen. There may have been more. You had to shoot the centipede, knocking off its pieces until there were none left.

But I was apparently really terrible at the game. Even on the first level,which was basically a blank screen with no obstacles, I did really horribly. I couldn't figure out the shooting mechanism. It was taking me way too long to twist the part of the centipede's body over to where the long centipede was coming from, aim at it, and shoot it. I must have gotten to a more difficult level. But this one was full of obstacles and may have had more than one long centipede. I think I was thinking of asking my friend to teach me how to shoot.

Dream #3

I was either at a beach or at a really big pool with some friends. But a lot of us were just hanging out in front of the outdoor showers. The showers ran alongside a big, cinder block wall that stood before a wooden boardwalk-like walkway. Each shower had its own little division, like it's own little stall, although the dividing area only rose up to about shin-height.

I don't know whether we'd already gone swimming or if we were just getting ready to swim. But at least I personally seemed to be obsessed with the showers. My shower didn't seem to be working. It had hot water for a little while. But then the hot water all went cold. Now something weird was going on with the nozzle.

A male friend to my right -- tall, muscular, attractive, and white -- laughed cheerfully and told me something like I just had to keep positive and hope for the best, and that the shower would probably get better soon.

I stood in the shower a little bit longer. But now the nozzle was loose. I could see, at least in my mind's eye, a white, conical nozzle like the tip of a cake-icing tube almost hitting me in the face through a cascade of water. And my stall was full of a bunch of equipment, like parts of a shower that had fallen out and were left discarded in my stall.

But another person, maybe a female friend of ours, told us that it was time to go. So I had to go to the locker room to shower and change back into my regular clothes. I went into the indoor locker room, a cinder block building with dim, watery, green-grey fluorescent lighting. There seemed to be a lot of people in the locker room.

I headed toward the shower. It was probably just a nozzle, probably all by itself, among other restroom elements like urinals, toilet stalls, and sinks. The shower may have worked fine. I walked back into the main locker room area. I knew I had to hurry to keep up with my friends.

I now noticed that I was in a special area of the locker room. The locker room had been divided into sections. Regardless of nationality, people like me with brown skin had to use this part of the locker room and stay divided from other people in the locker room.

I knew that while people with brown skin were required to use this part of the locker room, it was also assumed that anybody who was using this part of the locker room was using it expressly to conspire with other people in this part of the locker room in some destructive plan. So everybody was always suspicious of the people in this section. I tried to rush out of the place as soon as I could, to avoid suspicion.

The edge of the section for brown people was bounded by a set of small, orange traffic cones. The cones were connected by yellow rope which ran along their tops.

Dream #4

I was heading into a fancy restaurant with a male friend of mine. It seemed like we were coming here to meet a business contact. The lobby of the restaurant was all made of heavy wood.

A skinny, wiry black man with short, but really frazzled (almost shocked), hair stood at the front desk. The worker knew my friend, but he didn't know me. He looked like he was already getting ready to tell me to leave. But my friend not only told the worker that I was his friend, but he told him my name.

The worker's tiny, tight eyes bugged out as wide as they could. The worker said, "Oh!" He grabbed my right (?) hand, folded it at the wrists, and then covered it in both of his hands. Then he put my hand to my chest -- or possibly to his own chest -- and led me through the restaurant, to the table where our party was waiting. I knew I was getting special treatment because of who I was. But I didn't know why I would deserve special treatment.

The restaurant was empty, other than the table with the party we were here to meet. The restaurant was bright with natural light, which came in through windows high up on the wood walls. The place felt open and very nice, full of nice furniture, but kind of old and dusty, a little run-down, especially in the carpeting. There were big, round tables throughout the room and booth tables along the walls. Off to my right was a room that was much dimmer than the room we were in.

I sat down at the round table with our party. I don't know if my friend did. I don't think he did. I think he just walked away. My friend was tall, white, and muscular, with a kind of long haircut done up in a sweeping, squarish, but spiked style. He wore a really nice, grey business suit.

I was now sitting at the table with a group of old men. There may have been a few empty seats. One of the men I recognized as my grandfather, who died about four years ago. Another man I recognized as my mom's old boyfriend. The remaining men were, I assumed, family members or relations of some kind. They seemed very old, and they wore very nice suits.

I opened my menu. The menu looked like a Denny's menu. I couldn't decide what I wanted. But now my grandpa and the other old men stood up and walked away, leaving just me and my mom's ex-boyfriend at the table. One of the men must have come back, but only momentarily, leaving a plate of french toast covered in syrup and a couple links of sausages on the table.

I saw that the men had all gone to the dim room. I now realized that in that room there was an all you can eat breakfast buffet. The old men had all chosen this all you can eat buffet for their meal. I said, probably to the air, "Oh? Is that what everybody's doing? I'd much rather do that. Did they want me to do that as well? I hope I didn't offend them by looking into the regular menu." I didn't want to look like I was trying to order something that was higher-priced, or a worse value than, the all you can eat buffet.

I stood up. I was about to head to the all you can eat buffet. But I saw my mom's ex still sitting at the table. I thought that, instead of being rude (???) and leaving him alone at the table, I'd sit and wait here and talk with him until one or two of the old men came back.

So, sitting down my menu and a handful of plates, which apparently came from nowhere, I asked, "So, how's it going? How's everything been for you lately?"

My mom's ex looked at me in offended surprise, as if to imply that I really had some nerve talking to him at all -- especially after what I'd done to him. I couldn't figure out what I could have done that would have offended him so much. But I just decided not to say anything.

Dream #5

I went into a museum. I went into a special exhibit about some ancient culture. The special exhibit was only going to be at the museum for a short time. I didn't know whether I'd be able to make it. So I was really happy to be here. But I was all alone in the exhibit. A lot of the old artifacts were huge and resembled human faces. It was kind of spooky to be among them all, all by myself.

But I walked into a small room full of these faces (maybe huge, wooden faces, like segments of a totem pole?). There was a big video playing on a wall. In front of the video screen were a long, stainless steel table and three chairs. It was like a little study area. I took off my jacket and pulled out a notebook and pen to start taking notes.

I now noticed an old man come into the room off to my right. The room was like the main entrance room for the exhibit. It was a huge room, like a ballroom. And it seemed like it only had one exhibit display in it, right along the front wall, just a small display of a few artifacts. The rest of the room seemed to be completely empty.

The man had, I knew, noticed that I had walked into the special exhibit. He didn't like my looks, so he decided to follow me and harass me. The man was white, kind of stout, with long, frizzy, white hair along the sides of his head and a completely bald crown. He wore thick black-rimmed eyeglasses, a red and white plaid shirt, and khaki slacks.

The man was really only focused on annoying me. But he wouldn't come into the room I was in. I think he thought that even though he was following me, stalking me, that his stalking would be too obvious if he was in the same room with me. So he stayed in the other room, but he began dancing in a really stupid -- kind of hilarious -- but really distracting way.

I tried to keep focused on the video in front of me, the figures in the room, which I was apparently studying, and my notebook writings. But I kept losing focus. The man kept shifting his movements so he was always in the corner of my eye, doing a weird kind of stompy, twitchy, flailing dance that was hilarious, but that really annoyed the hell out of me. I was getting to the point where I was going to stand up and start a fight with the guy. The way the guy was moving made me wonder if he was on drugs.

But now a tour group was heading into the room. The man saw the tour group and dashed away. I knew that the man was only doing what he was doing to annoy me, as part of a stalker/targeted individual technique. He didn't want his role as a stalker to be seen by anybody else. He didn't want to give himself away. He didn't want anybody to believe me if I told them what he was doing. He wanted everybody to think I was crazy. So he ran away before anybody could see him.

The tour group looked pretty big. A whole line of people entered the room. At first I was just relieved that the old man had gone. But now I thought I should try to get someone to get rid of him altogether. I should tell someone, the tour leader, about the man.

Even though I hadn't seen him directly, I knew that the leader had entered at the front of the line. The leader was already working his way over to the section that was considered to be the beginning of the exhibition. I knew the leader would take a minute to let the tour group get situated, and then he'd start his presentation. I decided to run to the leader really quickly and tell him about the man.


The beginning section of the exhibition was set just a little bit into the right side of the big room. The rest of it went into a room separated from the big room by a sort of overhang. The section itself was like a maze, constructed out of knee-high metal railing. Behind the railing were artifacts. Many of the artifacts were either tall as standing men or else set on pedestals about that height, or even taller. These artifacts may have had more of a Gothic, maybe even more of a Buddhist, appearance.


I found the tour leader standing in the middle of this maze. A few members of the tour group stood around him. The rest kind of filtered through the maze in a long line. But people were still entering the room and getting situated. The tour leader himself was tall, white, but with reddish-tanned skinned. He had dull blue eyes and reddish blonde hair. He was skinny-looking, but he was actually muscular. He had a kind of whiny look about him.


I got the leader's attention in some childish way, maybe by tugging at his elbow or something. I may have felt like I was a child, or at least the height of a child. I at least felt like my head didn't even come up to the leader's sternum.


I very shyly started trying to tell the leader about the harassing old man. But as I did so, I realized that, along with my notebooks and my jacket, I had also left my cell phone at the desk I'd been studying at. I was sure that if the man worked his way around to the room I'd been in, which was like the last room of the exhibit, he'd steal my cell phone for sure.


So I told the leader, "I... uh... I left my cell phone in another room." I knew that the man would start speaking before I returned, and that once he'd started speaking he wouldn't stop for me to tell him about the old man. I couldn't ask the leader to hold off on his speech until I returned. All I could do was try to get back to the leader before the tour group was situated, and hope that the man would be patient enough with me to let me tell him about the old man.


But I still, walking away, tried to at least hint to the leader that I needed to get my cell phone before it got stolen, but that I needed to speak with the leader as well. But all I got out to the leader was something like, "Uh... I'll be... uh... a... just a moment... I'll be right back!"


I walked backwards through the maze. But it was filling up with tour members. It was hard for me to make any progress as I tried to squeeze past them or excuse myself or push past them in the opposite direction. I had a feeling that, with all the time I'd been away from the room already, the old man could easily have taken my phone. If he hadn't gotten to my phone yet, I needed to get to the room as soon as possible, so he couldn't get to it.


Suddenly, I just lifted myself up in the air. I began flying over the tour group. I flew over the group in kind of a weird way, like I was lying on one side, maybe my right side, and clawing the air below me with my right arm -- though my right arm was bent in a really weird way -- while also clawing the air before me with my left arm -- though my left arm was held almost completely to my chest, so that my clawing hand was really only flopping back and forth at the wrist. But I was moving faster than I would have moved by walking.


The line of people filtered all the way through the maze-like area. Just past the maze area there was a staircase, apparently going up to the balcony that overhung the maze area. The line wove under the staircase, not single-file, but with four or five people all beside each other, and then went all the way through the big room and out the entrance door.


I was awed by how massive the tour group was. I had a hard time trying to imagine how the leader was supposed to give a presentation, in just his voice, with no microphones or speakers or anything, to a crowd this enormous.


I may have seen a female tour guide, who was in place to monitor the back of the crowd and make sure nothing got out of hand. She was white, blonde, tan, kind of pretty. She wore the same uniform as the man, except with a mini-skirt instead of slacks. She looked nice enough to talk to without being shy. I thought that I would tell her about the old man after I'd gotten my phone.


I may have landed near the door of the room with all my stuff. I was still really afraid that the old man had gotten to my cell phone first. I felt like I really needed to hurry to get to my things.

Dream #6

I was with some group of people, maybe something like classmates or a group of friends. We had all finished something. We may have been in a place like an auditorium or a movie theatre at first. We may have been watching a movie or movies made by people in the room, or we may have been watching physical performances which were very much like movies somehow. But now the performance was over. The lights had come back on, and people were leaving the auditorium.

We all walked out into a huge room that looked like a gymnasium where we were standing. For a little while I spoke with one of my friends, a kind of heavyset, Hispanic looking girl with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked athletic and tomboyish. I think she was gay, and I think she was worried that I was trying to hit on her. But I just liked talking to her as a friend, because she was so easygoing.

Farther away, the gymnasium changed into a cathedral. There were rows of pews, like in a church. Then the room tiered upward along a wide, solid staircase. It went up to a mezzanine level, where there were more tiers and rows of seats. And along the back wall there were some enormous, incredible stained glass windows. There may have been stained glass inside the building, too: maybe along some of the railings at the front of the mezzanine level.

I was mesmerized by the beauty of the stained glass windows. I wanted to see the windows up close. I walked toward them. Some other people walked around in the cathedral area near me, apparently because I was walking around here, so they figured it was okay. I was pretty sure it wasn't okay for any of us to be here. But I really had to see the windows up close.

But our leader called us away. It was like he was an adult and we were children, maybe high school aged children. I may have been my age. But I may have been recognized as a high school kid. This may have been kind of frustrating to me. I wanted to be recognized as an adult by the leader. But I didn't feel like I had enough power in me at all to be recognized as an adult.

Outside, we headed down some barren slope of tan soil to a few big buses that were going to take us back to wherever we'd come from. The buses were parked alongside a pond, which we'd apparently used at some point in the day for swimming. There were still some kids swimming in the pond.

There were a couple adults, probably leaders, too, with the leader who'd called us out of the building. The leaders were all laughing about how kids would shower and then get right back to swimming. But now we had to leave, so the kids couldn't take a shower again.

Dream #7

I stood or sat just offstage, watching some sort of theatrical performance from the wings. My old office manager sat just behind me and to my right. She kept whispering stuff in my ear about this performance. I think I found the stuff she whispered useful, but annoying.

On stage, a sheer, baby-blue curtain was let down, maybe about halfway back in the stage. It ran all the way across the stage, and all the way down to the floor of the stage. The fabric was like the fabric of a negligee. A red, 1950s style car drove up behind the sheer curtain. It glimmered romantically in the spotlights. A slow 1950s style song began playing. A beautiful woman may have appeared, sitting on the roof of the car. The car may slowly have driven off stage.

Dream #8

The last episode of a TV show for teenagers. The show was a variety show, put on largely by teenagers, but with a few adults who acted like moderators and mentors for the teenagers. The show was mostly informative, about pop culture, fashion, and so forth, with little bits of comedy and sketches here and there.

There was a segment showing some of the kids who ran the show getting all sentimental and crying, some of them right after they'd stoutly announced that they wouldn't get all sentimental and start crying. One image was a closeup on a girl's face as she cried. The girl was white, pale skinned, with freckles, pale blue eyes, and frizzy, black-brown hair. She, like all the other kids, wore a yellow t-shirt and blue jeans.

But now it was like the final episode of the show was just beginning. The premise of the show's beginning was that all the kids were going to treat the show just like any other show: that, even though this was the final episode, the kids were going to act like it wasn't. But then, once somebody got out onto the stage, maybe the adults, but I'm not sure, the kids would all shout, "Surprise!" After that, the show would be like a big party.

I knew that at this point, all the crying would take place. I kind of didn't want to have to go through all the crying moments again. Even though they were silly and sappy and kind of endearing, they were also kind of painful. And I didn't want to have to go through the pain again.

The first scene showed the kids running through the backstage area, which was kind of like a huge warehouse full of supplies like bulk-quantity craft supplies: like huge rolls of paper and so forth, on huge shelves towering all the way up to the ceiling.

The kids were, either genuinely or as part of the show, running late for the beginning of the show. They had to get there before the adults did, so they could surprise the adults. But there were people -- not planned by the show -- who were apparently doing work backstage. They paid no attention to the kids, and were even a little smug with the kids. They kept on with their work laying all kinds of obstacles in the kids' path, and walking slowly at right angles to the kids.

The kids were now genuinely late getting on stage. Then one of the girls tripped on one of the workers who had gotten into her path. She fell and slid across the floor. All the kids who'd seen the girl fall stopped running and knelt down to help the girl. It was now painfully obvious that these kids, if not all the kids, would now be extremely late in getting onto the stage.

archaeological stalker

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was at some kind of scientific excavation site, maybe an arachaeological dig. The space that had been dug in the ground was roughly circular and maybe ten meters in diameter. The earth in the circle looked more like it had been cleared by a collapse of the ground, rather than having been dug up.

There were a decent amount of people in the hole. Most of the people seemed to be engaged in some task along the edges of the hole. I'm not sure whether I knew what my task was. There was a definite leader in the hole. I was probably sticking close to the leader.

I looked closely at the walls of the hole. The soil formed a kind of set of barriers, like for a waist-high fence of horizontal-planked wood. Through the spaces between the barriers I could see into some kind of building area, like an old office building or shopping mall. I may now have realized that I was looking for somebody and that the person I was looking for was down in this area.

I was down in the area now. It was like a tall corridor, lit with greyish fluorescent lights. It seems to me now like the hallway outside the service area of a big post office. I may have been standing at a counter built into one of the walls.

I knew I was supposed to meet with someone just down the hallway. I had just been notified (through text or email?) that the people had just finished whatever they'd been doing and that they'd be ready to meet me right away.

I wanted to walk down the hallway right away. But I had the feeling that someone was stalking me, following my every move. If I made it obvious that I was directly going to meet somebody, the person who was stalking me would be especially interested in following me. So I tried to take my time and act like I wasn't going anywhere in particular.

I walked down the hallway. A way down, there was a small space on my right side, a little alcove that the doors for three classroom-like rooms opened up to. In the alcove were a few tables for people to eat or study at.

My mother either sat at one of the tables or was just walking up to it. I walked up to my mom. My mom told me that we were still waiting for my Grandma Y, my mom's stepmother.

I was relieved to see my mom. I knew that, now that I was with people I felt familiar with, the stalker would be less apt to encroach on my space so obviously and make me feel so obviously like he was stalking me. I also felt like the stalker, seeing how I actually had outside relationships with people, would stop stalking me so much because he'd see how there were people in my life to help protect me.

But I still didn't want to make it obvious that my mom, grandma, and I were taking care of any particular kind of task. If my actions seemed directed toward any sort of goal, the stalker would take that as some sort of alert that he needed to stalk me even more.

I walked over to a wall to my right. There was another counter built out of the wall. This counter had stacks and boxes of books and comic books on it. I thumbed through some of the books, hoping to look kind of leisurely, like I wasn't doing anything I cared about, and like I didn't have anything I cared about doing on my mind. I hoped this would fool the stalker.

My grandma Y came up behind me at some point and began talking to me about books. We had a short exchange and then decided it was time to go do whatever we were supposed to be doing.

But as I looked down the hallway, I saw a tall, skinny, black man, maybe in his late thirties or early forties, sitting down at a long table. He opened a laptop computer and began typing on it.

I knew this man was the stalker. He had waited for a while, peering at me from somewhere else, before he'd decided I was going to be in this one spot for a while. Once he'd figured I'd be here a while, he'd decided to sit down and use his computer for a bit.

I thought this would be the perfect time to get out of here, since it would take at least a few seconds for the stalker to shut off his computer, stand up, and start following me. But I also didn't want to look too rushed, because I didn't want to make the stalker too alert, so that he'd think he needed to follow me even more closely.

I may then have been standing outside a semi-truck at night. I may have been with a group of young guys. We may have been talking about something work-related.

dad in surgery; nephew reading menu; singing and dogs barking; acquaintance's voicemail

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was sitting on a bed in a hospital room. My dad was laying on the bed. I had my phone on the bed and the headphones in my ears.

I was talking to my dad. But at the same time, I was walking backwards away from him. The hospital room was large. It took me a long time to move backwards all the way to the door.

I stood right on the threshold of the door. I now saw a stereotypical "sexy nurse" standing in the room with my dad. It suddenly occurred to me that my dad was going in for surgery. I had a feeling it was a pretty critical surgery.

My dad had been given some sort of tranquilizer pill. It was already making him groggy, making him talk weird. My dad saw me leaving the room and kept saying, "Goodbye, Charlie," as if I were some guy named Charlie he'd known from his past. I took this to mean that not only was my dad groggy from the medicine he was taking, but that the disease he was in the hospital for was badly affecting his mind.

I probably thought that it was possible that my dad could die very soon. I also probably started feeling bad for not having spent enough time with him, and not having let him know that I cared about him.

Dream #2

I was in my family's kitchen. It was daytime, and greyish-white light shone in through the windows. My third oldest nephew stood at the edge of the kitchen counter, reading a big, white, paper card. My nephew held up the menu at a slant by leaning it up against my mom's laptop computer, which stood open on the kitchen counter.

I looked at the card. Apparently it was a menu. The menu was probbably at least partly written out. But everything in the menu was so divided that it looked like a depiction of a TV dinner. And there did seem even to be drawings of TV-dinner-like food.

My nephew took the menu and walked away from me, up the kitchen, and toward my mom, who was standing by the sink.

Dream #3

I had walked into a backyard. It was night, but there seemed to be yard lights on everywhere. The sky was the only thing that seemed really dark.

I was sat down on the lawn. The grass was tall, thick, and green -- maybe even a little dewy. I may have had my headphones in my ears. I was singing a song.

A dog in an adjacent backyard started barking at me, as if my singing had annoyed it, or as if my singing had alerted it to my presence, and it had just decided to bark to intimidate or annoy me.

The dog did surprise me, and I did stop singing. I looked up to see where the dog was. It was in the yard at the corner of this yard.

I suddenly got mad that that the dog had barked at me. I wasn't going to take it. I started singing again, but the dog started barking again. So now I stood up and yelled at the dog in the loudest voice I could, "Stop your bullshit! I'm sick of it! I'm not going to take it anymore!"

I could see that in the yard directly back of this yard, behind a tall fence, there was another dog, behind a tall fence. This dog had been running up to the fence to bark at me, too. But I now went crazy, yelling at both of the dogs. I had the idea that I was going to jump back into the yards and fight the dogs.

The dogs seemed to have stopped barking. But I had pretty much gotten distracted from singing. There was a tall, wooden-slatted fence inside the yard I was in. It seemed to enclose some special-purpose area just behind the house. For some reason, I flew up and landed on the top of that fence. I stood balancing on the fence, keeping a lookout for something.

My sister walked into the backyard. She looked a bit younger, like she was in her late teens. She was kind of skinny. She wore a long, baggy, green hooded sweatshirt. She had long, blondish hair and was wearing black mascara.

My sister said hi to me. She may have asked me how I was doing. She may have been really concerned about me for some reason. I may have tried to ease her mind by saying something not relating to what I'd just been through. But I said, "Yeah, I'm just standing up here to keep an eye out for strange people. This one strange guy has been following me home on the bus lately, I think."

Dream #4

I was sitting on a couch in a living room, probably with my mom. It was probably night. The living room was lit with slightly dim, incandescent light. I couldn't see much of the living room. Most of my view was taken up by a mountain of clutter that stood on a coffee table in front of the couch.

I knelt down on the floor and grabbed my cell phone off the coffee table. I probably put the right headphone in my ear. I'd decided to call a female acquaintance of mine, a really good friend of my old friend R. I had this woman's number in my phone.

The woman's voicemail picked up. There were some strange sounds at first, as if the phone had actually been picked up by some living person, but the person had just not realized they'd picked up the phone. I heard a number of women talking. Then, finally, one of the women came to the phone and started leaving a voicemail greeting.

The woman said this phone was the phone for the house of herself and two other women, who would take any messages anybody left for them.

But my acquaintance was the fourth woman in the house. The woman on the voicemail greeting said that my acquaintance was not taking any messages, especially from me. The voicemail woman said that I'd either done something really crazy to my acquaintance or that I'd acted so interested in the woman that she now feared I was stalking her. So she was not going to take any messages from me.

I think I hung up the phone, upset that I couldn't leave a message. But I picked up the phone again and either dialed the same number or a different number that also belonged to my acquaintance. I knew there had to be a way for me to get in touch with this woman.

I now got a different voicemail. This time, my acquaintance was speaking. But it was almost like she was leaving a voicemail greeting just for me -- like the voicemail greeting was a message she'd left on my personal voicemail.

My acquaintance sounded really panicked. She said that she needed my help really bad. My friend R had her in a compromising position, and he was also putting her in physical danger.