Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was in a house, and then I was outside on a road in a suburban neighborhood. In the house, I was probably in my body. Outside the house my view may just have been floating, bodiless, along the road. The road bowed out to the right and then back to the left. One area of the road seemed to have a row of tall cypress trees.
All this time, I was making up and singing some punk-sounding song. The song sounded really original to me.
Dream #2
I was in a bedroom, standing over a bed. I was putting lifting up large paper cut-outs of action figures, mostly robot-like figures or armored figures, like Samus from Metroid. The paper cut-outs weren't actually put together. They were still flat, and I could still see the tabs sticking off of their bodies.
All this time, I was making up and singing some kind of song. I may have thought the song was punk-sounding. But it really wasn't.
Dream #3
I was at a fast food restaurant. The restaurant seemed a little bigger than normal, and it felt empty: either empty of people or empty of chairs and tables. The light coming in from the window walls was bright grey and somehow sterile, although the place also had a somewhat grimy feel to it.
I was reading a John D. MacDonald novel, either from a book or on my phone. The novel had the feel of Barrier Island and Condominium, though I'm pretty sure its subject was outside the field of real estate. I had reached a point in the novel where an over-assured man was planning to go get aggressive with another man who had put him in a compromising position.
Feeling the suspense of this moment I put down my book/mobile device and chuckled, "Whoa, no!" I knew already that, if this book followed the usual structure of a MacDonald novel, the man would get himself in trouble through his over-assuredness. Either he or the man he was out for would get killed, when all the man likely intended to do was cause a little scare and end the problem.
As I walked along and pondered this whole thing, I saw an older man sitting and eating. He looked to me just like a character I'd imagine out of a MacDonald novel: a little short, kind of dumpy, but tough-looking, probably well-off, and someone you wouldn't want to mess with in general.
I walked down a short hallway. There were probably bathroom doors on the right wall. At the end of the hallway I found myself in a coffee shop, possibly a Starbucks. I may already have placed my order, so that now I was just waiting for it.
The man at the cash register, a young, skinny, black man, handed me my coffee. Apparently I was waiting for something else. The young man gave me an easygoing assurance that my other item would be here in a moment.
In the meantime, I figured I'd fix my coffee. I took the lid off my coffee. I wanted to stir in some sugar, but I didn't have a spoon. I was going to reach for a spoon, but the young man planned to give me one instead. He was a couple meters away, doing something else. He spun around, away from me, still looking more concerned with the other thing he was doing, while he threw a white plastic spoon toward me from behind his back.
The spoon lilted steeply up into the air, then dashed lightly downward. It all took me by surprise, but I still reached out to grab the spoon. I had to stretch a bit to get at the spoon. I caught the spoon, but I managed to fumble it and let it drop to the floor.
I picked up the spoon. I didn't want to look like I was rejecting the young man's offer of the spoon. But I figured I'd just grab my own spoon, a clean one that hadn't touched the floor. I'd just look like I was using the spoon the young man had thrown to me. But I then figured that I didn't even want to use a spoon at all before washing my hands. I'd touched the floor in grabbing the spoon. So my hands were just as dirty, now, as the dirty spoon was.
Dream #4
I was in a bedroom with my ex-girlfriend H, sitting on the floor. H had a bunch of stuff all pulled out of paper shopping bags, like bags from really nice clothing boutiques. The stuff was strewn all over the floor in between us.
H was concerned with something, maybe with packing up so she could go on a trip somewhere. But she was making remarks that I thought were kind of stupid. I may also have felt offended by the remarks, like she was making them to make me feel bad about myself.
I got frustrated with H's remarks and said something that I thought would shock H into being reasonable. I then picked up one of the paper bags. The bag was full of items, mostly brightly colored bands of the same material as elastic-fabric hairbands, but really large, maybe 15cm in diameter.
I took the bands out of the bag and began arranging them on the floor. I then kept some of the arranged bands out and put others back in the bag. I then organized the rest of the materials that were inside the bag. The bag looked really well-organized now. I was pretty proud of myself, and I thought H would be impressed.
But when I looked back up at H, she had her face turned away from me. She held her hand in front of her face as well. I could tell that H was trying to hide the fact that she was crying. I felt really bad. I could tell that the remarks I'd made had sounded a lot meaner than I'd expected them to. I also knew that I'd made these kinds of remarks so many times before that H was finally getting sick of it, and of me. I had a feeling that H would finally stop liking me and would leave me.
Dream #5
I sat at a long table, like a table in an elementary school's cafeteria. Across the table from me sat a woman and two children, maybe a boy and a girl. The woman was drawing with the two children. Papers were scattered all over the table.
I was trying to draw the woman as she drew with the children. The woman was wearing a big, flat, black hat with a bit of a fishnet veil hanging down from it. It obscured most of her face. But I could still see enough of her cheeks and mouth to get an expression.
But when I looked down at my drawing, I was disappointed to see that I'd drawn the woman with far less of her face showing! There was almost no expression at all! I looked back up to the woman, thinking that I'd re-draw her, this time making sure I got all of the visible part of her face.
But when I looked back up at the woman, I noticed that she'd shifted her head so that very little of her face was visible from under the hat. I may have shifted my view a bit by leaning downward at a really odd angle. I may have seen more of the woman's face that way. But I knew I couldn't draw and hold my head at that weird angle. I had no idea how I was going to get a good view of the woman's face for my drawing.
Dream #6
I was walking toward a classroom. I was apparently taking a few classes like therapy classes. I was just about to graduate from one cycle of classes. But there was another cycle of classes that had preceded this one. I thought I had already graduated from that cycle. But I'd actually needed to complete one last class. Without completing this one last class, I wouldn't be considered as having passed the second cycle of classes once I'd completed it.
I was a little afraid, going into the last class of the first cycle. I had a feeling that somebody, maybe the teacher, wouldn't like me, and would try to find some way to fail me in the last class, so that I wouldn't pass the first cycle, and I wouldn't be considered as having passed the second cycle.
Showing posts with label starbucks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label starbucks. Show all posts
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
antique orgasm; wild animals, little girls, and dessert
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was sitting out in some kind of plaza area at night. I sat on the ground, possibly leaning my back against the seat of a bench. My sister may have been there, too. We had some stuff with us: a couple of bikes and some other personal belongings.
A little boy and an older man came and sat down by us. The little boy had olive skin and dark black, straight hair. He wore tiny, tan, corduroy shorts and a little, white t-shirt that made him look a little bit like a girl. The little boy was attracted to me. Even though he didn't know me, he came down and sat on my lap. He sat right so his bottom was on my crotch, and he kept bouncing up and down.
The little boy eventually transformed into a Latino young man who was dressed up as a girl. He was dressed in a frilly, lingerie-esque black tank top with red, lacy fringes and a pair of really short, denim shorts. His hair was black, with streaks of pale brown dyed in, and done up in loose ringlets. He also seemed to have big breasts.
I had actually had an orgasm at some point in time because of the bouncing up and down. So the Latino young man figured I was attracted to him. He told me he'd give me his phone number. I wasn't wearing any shoes. The young man wrote his phone number on my right foot, starting at the joint where the big toe meets the foot and going all the way down past my ankle, an inch or two up my leg.
The young man wrote the number in red and black. The boy's handwriting looked very much like graffiti. The boy would write the red part first, then do a little outline in black to made it look like a shadow. I looked at the boy's pen. It was just one pen, with one tip, and no switching buttons. But it was putting out red ink or black ink, whenever the boy wanted. I told the boy, "You have really good handwriting."
The young man finished and stood up. I suddenly realized that he and the older man were together. The older man hadn't noticed the boy having sat down on me and rubbed against me until I came. And he didn't seem to think anything of the boy having given me his phone number. The older man just thought the young man was only in love with him. The two of them got on either a motorcycle or a bicycle and rode away.
My sister was either already gone or had left just now, telling me she'd meet me wherever she was going. I now felt like I'd been sitting around here way too long. I needed to get to wherever my sister was!
So I stood up, turned to my left, and walked along the concrete or cobblestone path along which ran the bench that I'd been sitting against. It was a pleasant evening, and there were a lot of people out. Suddenly reflecting on the people all walking around here, I knew I had to sit back down! I'd just come. Would the wetness of my cum be visible on my clothes?
I looked down. I was wearing some hideous, fluorescent yellow shorts. The fabric was really thin, and, just as I had suspected, the wetness of my cum had soaked through. I covered myself up. There was one spot I first noticed as I'd looked, kind of right on the front and center of my shorts, a couple inches below the waist line. I tried to wipe it off and dry it off.
I think I managed to get the spot to a point where I felt it was tolerably unnoticeable. But now I noticed another mess! This one was coming out of my right pocket. It seemed like almost all my cum had flowed into my right pocket. It was clear and goopy and gross. But it wasn't white. It was clear. And it was cold, not hot.
I didn't think I'd be able to stand up for a long time. But out of the crowd came a kind of prissy-looking old man, carting a clothes rack full of either women's outerwear or women's lingerie. The styles seemed kind of stale, something very much like what I thought the prissy, old man would like. But the man stopped at me and said, "You! Get up! You haven't done everything you were supposed to do with these clothes yet!"
I had a feeling I'd done something, either messing up the clothes or committing to buying them and then breaking my commitment, that had basically made the responsibility for the clothes all mine. Even if they stayed in the prissy man's store, I still had to take care of them. So, regardless of my fear of being seen in my cum-stained shorts, I stood up and went to the clothes rack.
Slowly other elements of a shop were dragged out into the crowd, I'm not sure by whom. There were glass display cases of items and items on pedestals. The interior of an antique store had basically been drawn out onto this walkway!
A second old man now came up to me. He had a few antiques, some of which looked like music boxes. But one antique which drew my attention was a sphere-shaped object. The man let me look at it. Most of its surface was some deep, polished color, like a deep blue or brown. On some part of its surface was a little clock face. The middle of the orb and the boundary of the clock were ringed with gold. The middle of the orb may actually have been hinged, so it could open, like an Easter egg.
As I was inspecting the object, the old man was talking about the store. The way he was talking about things, it sounded like the prissy man had talked the old man into being a part of this store, almost against the old man's wishes. It sounded like it was a little bit of a pain to work with the prissy man, simply because the man's prissiness sometimes got to be a real bore.
I dropped the orb. It almost crashed to the ground. But I flinched a few times, and all my flinches were luckily positioned so that I kept almost catching the orb, until I finally caught the orb. But now, when I looked at the orb, it may have had a surface of gold and crystal, with the clock face inside the crystal portion of the egg, tilted at about a 30-degree angle.
The old man suggested I give the orb back to him. The orb was pretty expensive, and the man didn't want me holding onto it if I was going to be so clumsy with it. But he wasn't mad at me. In fact, it seemed to open the old man up to telling me a bit more of his story. As the old man told me the story, the store materialized around us. We were in one room full of antiques. In another room was a perfume counter and more antiques. The prissy man may have been working at the perfume counter.
The old man said how he, like a couple other old men, had owned their own stores. All the old men's stores specialized in certain kinds of antiques. The old man's particular store may have specialized in antique clocks or antique perfumes -- or both! But the old man, like a couple of his friends, was discovering that the specialty antique shops were no longer able to survive on their own.
The old man and his wife (who may have appeared somewhere in the shop) had to sell their shop. Some of their friends had to sell their shops, too. But the prissy man suggested to the old man (and, possibly, to other old men) that the old man let the prissy man sell the old man's antiques in his shop. The prissy man's shop was bigger and more comprehensive.
The old man said, "Yeah, it's hard for antique shops of any kind to survive anymore. In this town, all up and down along this road, you'd see tons of antique shops. Now they're all closing up, one by one. Nobody visits them anymore. That's why it's lucky I'm working with him." (The prissy man.) "His store isn't an antique shop. And it has so many different kinds of things, people will always be coming to the shop."
But when I looked around the shop, all I could see were antiques. I thought, This place must be an antique shop! And it must be doomed, just like all the other antique shops! My vision focused on some people lifting up a painting from behind some massive, golden posts. The painting was tall and wide. It was on some thin, stiff board. It seemed to be an early evening lake scene, done in pale blues and tans.
I now noticed that all around that area were golden objects. There may even have been a statue of a standing Pharaoh, his headdress, skirt, beard, and staff all done in gold, or painted gold, and his body done in black stone.
Dream #2
I was out in the wilderness with my sister on a hot, clear day. We stood on some ridge where we could see out over an expanse of green, but dry and craggy, slopes. My sister had to go do something. She walked away behind me.
I think I knew that I'd eventually have to turn around and head to wherever my sister had gone as well. But I think I was also hoping my sister would come back. Out here in the wilderness all alone, I felt unprotected, scared.
The slope before me was now all made of plowed-up soil. It was like a construction crew was coming through this wilderness, turning it up to make some new development. The slope now lipped up before me, so that it crested above my head. I had to climb up it to see beyond it. But when I climbed up it, I decided to walk down the other side. I think I was hoping I could walk out of all this plowed-up area and into some pristine wilderness.
At the bottom of the plowed-up slope was a dirt road. Across the dirt road was another plowed-up slope. I knew that beyond that slope there would be pristine wilderness. But now I looked to my right, up the dirt road. In the distance maybe four hundred meters was a wild animal. It looked like a coyote, but I thought (or hoped) it could be a bobcat. It had been trotting lightly across the road. But now it stopped and looked at me.
I didn't really want to go any farther in the wilderness. I'd never had any trouble with coyotes, or any wild animal, really, in the past. But I had a weird feeling that this summer, because of the heat (or drought?), the wild animals were really hungry, and that they'd even try to eat humans. I didn't want to be out here alone and defenseless against a hungry animal. So I turned around and headed back up the slope.
Now the slope was extremely steep. I didn't know whether I'd be able to make it back up the slope. But, surprisingly, I was actually bounding up the slope. I would jump upward from one foothold to another. It didn't even seem to cause me any effort. It was kind of fun!
This whole time I thought that I needed to keep the idea of fear out of my head. If a wild animal sensed fear, it would attack me. I thought that perhaps the coyote/bobcat would see my jumping and think I was too hard to catch, not worth its time. But then I thought that maybe the motion of my jumping would be so tantalizing that the coyote/bobcat would find me a very appetizing meal indeed.
But I soon reached the top of the slope. I hopped over the lip of the slope, thinking that I must have gotten up and out of sight before the coyote/bobcat could see me. But now I saw the coyote/bobcat stalking across the opposite slope. The crest of the opposite slope was now very close to the crest of this slope. I could plainly see the animal, which was a coyote. And the coyote could plainly see me.
The coyote jumped from its crest to my crest. But when it reached me, it just slowly passed me, looking me over, trying to determine whether I was an enemy or a friend, but then just becoming seemingly indifferent towards me and stalking away to my right and behind me. I was still afraid. Since the coyote was behind me, did that mean it was just playing a game on me, and that it would soon attack me from behind?
But now I saw a second animal on the opposite slope. This time the animal was a bobcat! But the bobcat's face looked a little weird, like it was real, but like its real (not drawn) features had been scribbled into existence by a little child's crayon drawings.
The bobcat didn't even wait to climb to the crest. It hopped from mid-slope to mid-slope, then climbed up and over the crest. When it got to me, it bared its teeth and made some kind of hissing sound. Its teeth seemed like needles to me. The bobcat then stalked off to my left and behind me.
I now felt like I was in too much danger out here by myself. I turned around to go back to wherever I'd come from. I was now slouch-laying sideways in a huge, padded chair in a big house like a luxury cabin in the woods. The living room was huge, calm, and filled with natural light. At the other end of the living room two girls sat in either one or two big chairs. One girl seemed to be about nine years old. The other girl seemed to be about twelve.
The nine-year-old girl hopped out of her chair and walked toward me. She was really skinny and wore slim blue jeans and a slinky, striped, long-sleeved shirt. She was pale, and she had long, stringy, pale brown hair. She hopped up onto my chair and flopped down, laying on top of me. We were now covered in a blanket. I ran my hands along the girl's sides and hips.
The little girl was now gone, or possibly standing off to the side and somewhere behind me. The twelve-year-old girl stood up and seemed to be coming toward me, even though I was kind of wishing the nine-year-old girl would come back. The twelve-year-old girl wore tiny, white shorts, a tiny, white t-shirt, and a white baseball cap, which was backwards. She was a bit more plump than the younger girl.. She had a tan, and her chestnut-brown hair was just a little shorter than shoulder-length.
But before the girl even reached me, another young girl sat down beside me in my chair. At my feet there was now another chair adjacent to and at right angles with my chair. Both chairs were less puffy and just a little smaller than my previous chair had been, and both were upholstered with some rough kind of yarny, tan, dark blue, and pale blue fabric.
We were no longer in the living room. We were now in a gigantic cafe. The cafe may have been a Starbucks. But it was out in the woods and it was done up like a ski lodge. There were a lot of people in the cafe. But everything was so well spaced that nobody seemed to be getting into anybody else's space.
The little girl (or boy?) who'd sat down next to me really wanted to be close to me and cuddle with me. But the guy who'd sat down in the other seat made both the girl (or boy) and myself afraid to do anything. I'm not sure what the guy's relationship was to the child. The guy was tall, young-looking, and pale, with blue eyes and a little bit of stubble on his cheeks.
The guy began talking to me, like he was trying to be cool and friendly with me. He had a bit of an athletic tone to his voice, which made me feel like he was being genuine. I didn't know how to put that same athletic tone of voice into my own speech. But I tried to talk like I was cool with the guy as well. But I didn't like the guy very much, and I kind of thought it was an inconvenience to have to deal with him.
The guy then mentioned that my mom was coming soon with all the food. I must have been a little surprised by this. The guy said, "What? Didn't you know your mom was here as well? I met her in line. She told me to sit with you. She and the others would be here soon."
I sat up straight in my chair. I don't know where the child had gone. I saw that there were two additional chairs. The chairs were all arranged around a little white cube which would serve as our table. Now my mom came up and sat in a chair. The others, probably a couple of my nephews, would be showing up soon.
Now a waiter, like a stereotypical thin-mustached, French waiter, wheeled out a huge, shelved, steel cart of desserts and drinks. All the food had some kind of mango-flavored theme to it. The waiter sat item after item of mango desserts and drinks onto the white cube.
In particular I remember seeing mango-flavored pies, and some weird mango smoothie-like item in a clear glass. The mango smoothie was all clumpy, so that the gunk in the glass wasn't evenly distributed. In the empty spaces I could see some green, ropy material, like a snake mixed with a green bean, coiling upward.
Dream #1
I was sitting out in some kind of plaza area at night. I sat on the ground, possibly leaning my back against the seat of a bench. My sister may have been there, too. We had some stuff with us: a couple of bikes and some other personal belongings.
A little boy and an older man came and sat down by us. The little boy had olive skin and dark black, straight hair. He wore tiny, tan, corduroy shorts and a little, white t-shirt that made him look a little bit like a girl. The little boy was attracted to me. Even though he didn't know me, he came down and sat on my lap. He sat right so his bottom was on my crotch, and he kept bouncing up and down.
The little boy eventually transformed into a Latino young man who was dressed up as a girl. He was dressed in a frilly, lingerie-esque black tank top with red, lacy fringes and a pair of really short, denim shorts. His hair was black, with streaks of pale brown dyed in, and done up in loose ringlets. He also seemed to have big breasts.
I had actually had an orgasm at some point in time because of the bouncing up and down. So the Latino young man figured I was attracted to him. He told me he'd give me his phone number. I wasn't wearing any shoes. The young man wrote his phone number on my right foot, starting at the joint where the big toe meets the foot and going all the way down past my ankle, an inch or two up my leg.
The young man wrote the number in red and black. The boy's handwriting looked very much like graffiti. The boy would write the red part first, then do a little outline in black to made it look like a shadow. I looked at the boy's pen. It was just one pen, with one tip, and no switching buttons. But it was putting out red ink or black ink, whenever the boy wanted. I told the boy, "You have really good handwriting."
The young man finished and stood up. I suddenly realized that he and the older man were together. The older man hadn't noticed the boy having sat down on me and rubbed against me until I came. And he didn't seem to think anything of the boy having given me his phone number. The older man just thought the young man was only in love with him. The two of them got on either a motorcycle or a bicycle and rode away.
My sister was either already gone or had left just now, telling me she'd meet me wherever she was going. I now felt like I'd been sitting around here way too long. I needed to get to wherever my sister was!
So I stood up, turned to my left, and walked along the concrete or cobblestone path along which ran the bench that I'd been sitting against. It was a pleasant evening, and there were a lot of people out. Suddenly reflecting on the people all walking around here, I knew I had to sit back down! I'd just come. Would the wetness of my cum be visible on my clothes?
I looked down. I was wearing some hideous, fluorescent yellow shorts. The fabric was really thin, and, just as I had suspected, the wetness of my cum had soaked through. I covered myself up. There was one spot I first noticed as I'd looked, kind of right on the front and center of my shorts, a couple inches below the waist line. I tried to wipe it off and dry it off.
I think I managed to get the spot to a point where I felt it was tolerably unnoticeable. But now I noticed another mess! This one was coming out of my right pocket. It seemed like almost all my cum had flowed into my right pocket. It was clear and goopy and gross. But it wasn't white. It was clear. And it was cold, not hot.
I didn't think I'd be able to stand up for a long time. But out of the crowd came a kind of prissy-looking old man, carting a clothes rack full of either women's outerwear or women's lingerie. The styles seemed kind of stale, something very much like what I thought the prissy, old man would like. But the man stopped at me and said, "You! Get up! You haven't done everything you were supposed to do with these clothes yet!"
I had a feeling I'd done something, either messing up the clothes or committing to buying them and then breaking my commitment, that had basically made the responsibility for the clothes all mine. Even if they stayed in the prissy man's store, I still had to take care of them. So, regardless of my fear of being seen in my cum-stained shorts, I stood up and went to the clothes rack.
Slowly other elements of a shop were dragged out into the crowd, I'm not sure by whom. There were glass display cases of items and items on pedestals. The interior of an antique store had basically been drawn out onto this walkway!
A second old man now came up to me. He had a few antiques, some of which looked like music boxes. But one antique which drew my attention was a sphere-shaped object. The man let me look at it. Most of its surface was some deep, polished color, like a deep blue or brown. On some part of its surface was a little clock face. The middle of the orb and the boundary of the clock were ringed with gold. The middle of the orb may actually have been hinged, so it could open, like an Easter egg.
As I was inspecting the object, the old man was talking about the store. The way he was talking about things, it sounded like the prissy man had talked the old man into being a part of this store, almost against the old man's wishes. It sounded like it was a little bit of a pain to work with the prissy man, simply because the man's prissiness sometimes got to be a real bore.
I dropped the orb. It almost crashed to the ground. But I flinched a few times, and all my flinches were luckily positioned so that I kept almost catching the orb, until I finally caught the orb. But now, when I looked at the orb, it may have had a surface of gold and crystal, with the clock face inside the crystal portion of the egg, tilted at about a 30-degree angle.
The old man suggested I give the orb back to him. The orb was pretty expensive, and the man didn't want me holding onto it if I was going to be so clumsy with it. But he wasn't mad at me. In fact, it seemed to open the old man up to telling me a bit more of his story. As the old man told me the story, the store materialized around us. We were in one room full of antiques. In another room was a perfume counter and more antiques. The prissy man may have been working at the perfume counter.
The old man said how he, like a couple other old men, had owned their own stores. All the old men's stores specialized in certain kinds of antiques. The old man's particular store may have specialized in antique clocks or antique perfumes -- or both! But the old man, like a couple of his friends, was discovering that the specialty antique shops were no longer able to survive on their own.
The old man and his wife (who may have appeared somewhere in the shop) had to sell their shop. Some of their friends had to sell their shops, too. But the prissy man suggested to the old man (and, possibly, to other old men) that the old man let the prissy man sell the old man's antiques in his shop. The prissy man's shop was bigger and more comprehensive.
The old man said, "Yeah, it's hard for antique shops of any kind to survive anymore. In this town, all up and down along this road, you'd see tons of antique shops. Now they're all closing up, one by one. Nobody visits them anymore. That's why it's lucky I'm working with him." (The prissy man.) "His store isn't an antique shop. And it has so many different kinds of things, people will always be coming to the shop."
But when I looked around the shop, all I could see were antiques. I thought, This place must be an antique shop! And it must be doomed, just like all the other antique shops! My vision focused on some people lifting up a painting from behind some massive, golden posts. The painting was tall and wide. It was on some thin, stiff board. It seemed to be an early evening lake scene, done in pale blues and tans.
I now noticed that all around that area were golden objects. There may even have been a statue of a standing Pharaoh, his headdress, skirt, beard, and staff all done in gold, or painted gold, and his body done in black stone.
Dream #2
I was out in the wilderness with my sister on a hot, clear day. We stood on some ridge where we could see out over an expanse of green, but dry and craggy, slopes. My sister had to go do something. She walked away behind me.
I think I knew that I'd eventually have to turn around and head to wherever my sister had gone as well. But I think I was also hoping my sister would come back. Out here in the wilderness all alone, I felt unprotected, scared.
The slope before me was now all made of plowed-up soil. It was like a construction crew was coming through this wilderness, turning it up to make some new development. The slope now lipped up before me, so that it crested above my head. I had to climb up it to see beyond it. But when I climbed up it, I decided to walk down the other side. I think I was hoping I could walk out of all this plowed-up area and into some pristine wilderness.
At the bottom of the plowed-up slope was a dirt road. Across the dirt road was another plowed-up slope. I knew that beyond that slope there would be pristine wilderness. But now I looked to my right, up the dirt road. In the distance maybe four hundred meters was a wild animal. It looked like a coyote, but I thought (or hoped) it could be a bobcat. It had been trotting lightly across the road. But now it stopped and looked at me.
I didn't really want to go any farther in the wilderness. I'd never had any trouble with coyotes, or any wild animal, really, in the past. But I had a weird feeling that this summer, because of the heat (or drought?), the wild animals were really hungry, and that they'd even try to eat humans. I didn't want to be out here alone and defenseless against a hungry animal. So I turned around and headed back up the slope.
Now the slope was extremely steep. I didn't know whether I'd be able to make it back up the slope. But, surprisingly, I was actually bounding up the slope. I would jump upward from one foothold to another. It didn't even seem to cause me any effort. It was kind of fun!
This whole time I thought that I needed to keep the idea of fear out of my head. If a wild animal sensed fear, it would attack me. I thought that perhaps the coyote/bobcat would see my jumping and think I was too hard to catch, not worth its time. But then I thought that maybe the motion of my jumping would be so tantalizing that the coyote/bobcat would find me a very appetizing meal indeed.
But I soon reached the top of the slope. I hopped over the lip of the slope, thinking that I must have gotten up and out of sight before the coyote/bobcat could see me. But now I saw the coyote/bobcat stalking across the opposite slope. The crest of the opposite slope was now very close to the crest of this slope. I could plainly see the animal, which was a coyote. And the coyote could plainly see me.
The coyote jumped from its crest to my crest. But when it reached me, it just slowly passed me, looking me over, trying to determine whether I was an enemy or a friend, but then just becoming seemingly indifferent towards me and stalking away to my right and behind me. I was still afraid. Since the coyote was behind me, did that mean it was just playing a game on me, and that it would soon attack me from behind?
But now I saw a second animal on the opposite slope. This time the animal was a bobcat! But the bobcat's face looked a little weird, like it was real, but like its real (not drawn) features had been scribbled into existence by a little child's crayon drawings.
The bobcat didn't even wait to climb to the crest. It hopped from mid-slope to mid-slope, then climbed up and over the crest. When it got to me, it bared its teeth and made some kind of hissing sound. Its teeth seemed like needles to me. The bobcat then stalked off to my left and behind me.
I now felt like I was in too much danger out here by myself. I turned around to go back to wherever I'd come from. I was now slouch-laying sideways in a huge, padded chair in a big house like a luxury cabin in the woods. The living room was huge, calm, and filled with natural light. At the other end of the living room two girls sat in either one or two big chairs. One girl seemed to be about nine years old. The other girl seemed to be about twelve.
The nine-year-old girl hopped out of her chair and walked toward me. She was really skinny and wore slim blue jeans and a slinky, striped, long-sleeved shirt. She was pale, and she had long, stringy, pale brown hair. She hopped up onto my chair and flopped down, laying on top of me. We were now covered in a blanket. I ran my hands along the girl's sides and hips.
The little girl was now gone, or possibly standing off to the side and somewhere behind me. The twelve-year-old girl stood up and seemed to be coming toward me, even though I was kind of wishing the nine-year-old girl would come back. The twelve-year-old girl wore tiny, white shorts, a tiny, white t-shirt, and a white baseball cap, which was backwards. She was a bit more plump than the younger girl.. She had a tan, and her chestnut-brown hair was just a little shorter than shoulder-length.
But before the girl even reached me, another young girl sat down beside me in my chair. At my feet there was now another chair adjacent to and at right angles with my chair. Both chairs were less puffy and just a little smaller than my previous chair had been, and both were upholstered with some rough kind of yarny, tan, dark blue, and pale blue fabric.
We were no longer in the living room. We were now in a gigantic cafe. The cafe may have been a Starbucks. But it was out in the woods and it was done up like a ski lodge. There were a lot of people in the cafe. But everything was so well spaced that nobody seemed to be getting into anybody else's space.
The little girl (or boy?) who'd sat down next to me really wanted to be close to me and cuddle with me. But the guy who'd sat down in the other seat made both the girl (or boy) and myself afraid to do anything. I'm not sure what the guy's relationship was to the child. The guy was tall, young-looking, and pale, with blue eyes and a little bit of stubble on his cheeks.
The guy began talking to me, like he was trying to be cool and friendly with me. He had a bit of an athletic tone to his voice, which made me feel like he was being genuine. I didn't know how to put that same athletic tone of voice into my own speech. But I tried to talk like I was cool with the guy as well. But I didn't like the guy very much, and I kind of thought it was an inconvenience to have to deal with him.
The guy then mentioned that my mom was coming soon with all the food. I must have been a little surprised by this. The guy said, "What? Didn't you know your mom was here as well? I met her in line. She told me to sit with you. She and the others would be here soon."
I sat up straight in my chair. I don't know where the child had gone. I saw that there were two additional chairs. The chairs were all arranged around a little white cube which would serve as our table. Now my mom came up and sat in a chair. The others, probably a couple of my nephews, would be showing up soon.
Now a waiter, like a stereotypical thin-mustached, French waiter, wheeled out a huge, shelved, steel cart of desserts and drinks. All the food had some kind of mango-flavored theme to it. The waiter sat item after item of mango desserts and drinks onto the white cube.
In particular I remember seeing mango-flavored pies, and some weird mango smoothie-like item in a clear glass. The mango smoothie was all clumpy, so that the gunk in the glass wasn't evenly distributed. In the empty spaces I could see some green, ropy material, like a snake mixed with a green bean, coiling upward.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
ten cent porn; trash files; juice boss; cooking too much?; secretly following; hitting hitcher; blackmail cupcakes
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was on some form of public transportation, maybe a bus, but probably more like a train or a subway. We were moving along above ground. The sky outside may have been deep blue-grey, as if it were late afternoon or early morning and cloudy. I sat in seats that edged their sides against the window. In front of me was a row of seats that edged their backs against the window. There may actually have been another row of seats in front of that first row.
I was looking at my phone. A man now sat in the seats in front of me. He was skinny, with dark skin and dark, wavy hair done up in a square cut. He wore a button-up shirt and nice slacks. He smiled at me and said something like, "You looking at porn?"
I was kind of shocked. I wasn't looking at porn. But I knew I could have been at some other time. In conjunction with my shock, we may have passed over some big bump. I dropped my phone. It scuttered under the row of seats the man was sitting in.
The man didn't seem to notice that I had dropped my phone. I didn't want to act like I'd dropped my phone. I thought if I acted worried, the guy would definitely think I had been looking at porn, and he'd definitely want to look at my phone. I didn't want to ask the guy for help in getting my phone.
I was trying to figure out the best way for getting my phone. I couldn't reach for it from where I sat. It had fallen all the way to the other end of the row. So I had to get up and get it. I stood up and went for it. I knelt in front of the row of seats.
It was a little harder than I'd thought it would be to get to it. The row of seats in front of this row was so close that it was like I had to crawl under this row just to get to the back row. Instead of the man sitting there, there may now have been a Hispanic woman, maybe with one or two little kids.
I noticed that down here the seats were all dusty, too. I could see my phone (except now it may just have been a dime) at the very end of a corner formed by the row of seats and the wall. I crawled back and reached for the phone, rubbing myself up against all the dust of the seats so that I could squeeze my arm in to where the dime was.
I pulled the dime out and looked at it. I may have been sitting straight up, still under the seats, though before I'd had to do a pretty short crawl to get here. Now that I'd actually retrieved my dime, I no longer thought it had been worth all the trouble I'd gone through.
Dream #2
I was at my office. I was looking down into the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. The drawer was all full of clutter. I may have been panicked, trying to figure out how to take care of all this clutter.
I may have heard my boss' voice from behind me, talking to our office manager, BL. My boss told BL, "You'll see. We can do without him. Anybody can do his job, really."
Dream #3
I was in some place like a break room. It seemed to be at the back of a big grocery store. The break room was kind of narrow. A big, circular table with a fake wood top took up most of the room. I sat at the table. The lights in the room were all off. The only light was the fluorescent light from the store, which came in through the open door of the break room.
My boss walked in. He said something like, "You're still here? We got rid of you, didn't we? We have your replacement and everything."
I may have tried to explain something about my being here, like there were one or two things that still needed to be taken care of. But my boss said something to ridicule everything I said. He said everything in a really pissy yet nonchalant tone that made it clear he was trying to insult me as much as he could in the most tactful way possible, so that he could prove how little he felt he needed me without actually getting himself in trouble for insulting me.
I was so angry that I shouted something back at him. It was pretty violent, but I can't remember what it was. My boss didn't take what I'd said seriously at all. So I began to laugh. I told him if he didn't think I was serious, he could just wait and see. I began to laugh louder and louder.
I laughed so loud that I "woke myself up" -- somewhere. I was walking around in the grocery store, I believe. I could hear two women talking to me from somewhere, maybe from inside my head. I could tell that the two women were Hispanic. Maybe they'd been attractive before. But now they were kind of worn-out and dumpy-looking.
The two women were telling me that when I'd been laughing in my sleep, I'd been laughing so hard that I'd woken them up. They said my laugh had been an evil laugh, and that it made them afraid for my boss. I don't know how they knew I was laughing about my boss.
I myself was really surprised I could have given such an evil laugh. When the women told me that my laugh was evil, I began to worry about myself. Was I okay? Did I need psychological help?
I was now walking along the back wall of the grocery store. There was a door along the back wall. I knew that behind that door was my boss' bedroom. He was asleep in that room. It may have been like a dorm room. My boss may actually have been sharing that room with the guy my boss had hired in my place. My boss and the guy may both have been asleep.
I knew my boss had fallen asleep because he thought there was nothing to worry about from me. I was going to show him. I had a plastic bottle in my hands. Actually, the bottle in my hands kept changing. First it was a small, 600ml plastic bottle. Then it was a big plastic juice bottle, maybe around two liters. There may also have been times when I held more than one bottle in my hands. The bottles may usually have been full of orange juice. I don't think any of them were ever completely full.
I planned to sneak into my boss' bedroom while he was asleep and pound him on the head with these bottles until his skull was smashed and he died. But as I was walking up to the door of the room, two tall, very muscular, bronze-skinned men walked up from behind me. The men wore tight, dark grey or black t-shirts and maybe dull green or grey pants, also kind of tight, maybe made of denim. They had short, wavy brown hair, and square, but kind of babyish, faces.
I had a bad feeling that these guys were trying to break into my boss' bedroom. They seemed to want to steal some of the stuff in the bedroom. Apparently the bedroom was also like a storehouse for some of the most valuable stuff in the store.
I didn't want the store to get stolen from, so I began watching the guys very closely. I decided not to go into the room. The room had a sliding door with a small, inward notch of a handle, painted the same pale-tan as the rest of the door. I didn't want the two men to see how easy it was to get into the room. They'd only be more encouraged to go in.
So either I got friendly with the guys or the guys got friendly with me. We began talking, walking past the room, all of us acting like the room was of no importance to us at all. We turned right and headed down an aisle with rather large shelves, more like shelves in a huge discount warehouse than in a normal grocery store. We were talking about something that I seemed to be engaged in with a kind of childlike enthusiasm.
I got the feeling, as we continued walking, that the guys had decided they were going to protect me. But I didn't know if that was just an act. So I kept all my conversation away from anything having to do with my boss or the bedroom door.
Dream #4
I was in some restaurant. I probably worked there. The restaurant had a long, narrow eating area and a small kitchen, most of which was visible from behind a counter. The restaurant was closed at the moment. But we were apparently preparing, so we could open up for some big party later in the day. The party may have been planned to be a multiple-day party. It may also have been the case that we had just closed down for the day, but that we now had to prepare all of our food for the next day.
Most of the workers seemed to be hanging around in the eating area, toward the back, at a couple of tables. It seemed like they, in general, really didn't have anything to do with the cooking, or maybe even the serving of the food. It seemed like they were all some kind of bosses, more concerned with the administrative aspects of the restaurant. There were one or two cooks behind the counter.
I'm not sure exactly what my job was. But somehow, I was keeping track of the amount of food made. I was also somehow involved in determining how much food needed to be made. At some point I had concluded that we didn't need to make a whole lot. We probably hadn't had much business the day before, and it looked like things weren't going to be any more active the next day. Plus, with the kind of food we made (some kind of fish?), it was much better to cook too little and have the food be fresh and good, than to cook too much and have food go bad.
The cook or cooks took my advice and began cooking only a little bit of food. I think I saw the preparations -- something like sheet pans with circular items, like biscuits, except made of fish, laid out on them.
But now I heard from the front door that the next day of the party was going to be really busy. There would probably be a lot of people here. And, in fact, a large group of people might even have made a reservation specifically for this restaurant.
I was excited. I ran back to the cooks and told them that we now needed to cook a lot of food. We were going to have a full house. Suddenly the cooks had all kinds of big fillets of fish, all being fried and laid out on pans everywhere. There were all kinds of pans of greasy, still-bubbling, fried fish -- everywhere.
I walked away from the cooks' counter and back toward the back of the store, where the other guys sat. I suddenly had a bad feeling that I'd told the cooks to make way too much food. The place would probably not be busy enough to serve all that food. If it were busier than the other days, we'd be kind of okay. But we'd still have too much food. But if it were only as busy as the other days, we'd have a whole lot of food and waste on our hands. We'd have wasted a lot of money.
Dream #5
It was probably a fresh, crisp morning. I was out walking around some place like a small town or a college town or campus, leading a small group of new students in some kind of orientation program. Everybody seemed cheerful and relaxed, even though I think we had gotten to some place where I really didn't know where I was going. We were walking along some grey flagstone path in between some large lawns, at the end of which were large, stately buildings.
A group of guys came walking our way from the other direction. They were all a lot taller and stronger than I. One of the guys, a black man with a shaved head, asked if we knew where we were going. I probably walked up to the guy and mumble-whispered something like, "I don't know where we're going. Do you think you could show us the way -- but without letting on that I don't know what I'm doing?"
We stood before a black iron gate (on my right side) that was hinged on either side with a maybe 2 meter tall stone post. The gate was already partly open. The man opened the gate the rest of the way for us. We all cheerfully walked in. After the gate was a flagstone path that led directly up to one of the big, stately buildings.
The man pointed out a stack of textbooks on the right side of the flagstone path. The top book may have had a yellow cover. The book may have been a mathematics textbook.
The man said, "I think somebody left their textbooks on the path." I knew that this was the way the man was justifying having given me directions for where to go. If he opened the gate and pointed out the books, it would just look like he was pointing out the books, not pointing out the direction I was supposed to take.
I may have replied that the person who owned these books (maybe some female student?) wasn't here, but that I'd make sure to get the books to her. I probably went to pick the books up.
Dream #6
It was morning. I was out with some young, black man on a road, probably in a neighborhood full of fenced parking lots and warehouses. It may have been like I was going to work. It may have been a hot, kind of smoggy morning. The sky was a sour yellow, with the sun just coming up over the horizon.
There were a decent amount of cars in the street, all heading to some warehouse yard to start work. The boy and I seemed to be in a hurry, even though I don't think either of us was too keen to start work.
The boy suddenly had an idea that to get to work quicker we could "hitch a ride." But this hitching a ride didn't necessarily mean getting permission to ride with somebody and getting into their car. The boy told me, "Come on!" He ran up to some van that may have been full of young people, like college students or recent college graduates in something like an intern program. The boy seemed just to jump onto the back or the side of the van and hold on as the van drove away.
I knew that the boy was doing this less because he was in a hurry to get to work and more because he simply didn't feel like walking the rest of the way to work. But I was in a hurry to get to work, and, even though I didn't like the boy's idea, I thought it seemed smart enough that I'd better do it. So I jumped onto a van, possibly not the same van as the boy had jumped onto.
But as I was jumping onto the van I noticed that at one intersection, at which we had just turned left, there was so much traffic that everything had come to a standstill. I was now somehow inside the van. All the young people seemed to make me feel welcome. There may have been a pretty, little, skinny white girl with big, blue-green eyes and her brown hair back in a loose ponytail.
At some point I may have decided that it would be easier just to get out and walk. But suddenly an accident occurred. We'd been moving forward, when we'd hit my friend who'd jumped on the other van. Apparently he'd gotten off the van -- maybe he'd been thrown off of it. But we'd actually driven right over him. It was obvious that he was dead -- crushed. But I didn't want to believe it.
I think I'd gotten out of the van I was in, as if that would reverse my friend's death. I was walking to work. But then at some point I was driving in a car -- a yellow taxi-cab, actually -- with my mom. My mom was driving. I sat in the front passenger seat.
We turned right and drove through an open gate. We were heading along a wide road through a wide lawn. Up ahead was a big, stately building, like a college building. But I looked up ahead and to my left and saw that there were people out here training to be astronauts. Some people may even have been wearing full astronaut outfits for spacewalks.
Suddenly, from nearby, on the left side of the road, there were two people: a boy and a girl. I'm not sure what happened to the boy. He may simply have run off into the field. But the girl ran directly in front of our car. My mom had to step on the breaks really quickly. Even then we barely missed hitting the girl.
The girl was a beautiful, tall, skinny, black girl with long, loosely curly, black hair. She wore a schoolgirl's outfit, with a tartan skirt and overall-blouse and a white button-up shirt. But she was a college student, or at least preparing to become a college student.
The girl looked terribly panicked. She gave me and my mom a look, like she knew she'd forced us to stop, but that she'd had to do it. She quickly ran around to the back passenger side of the car and got in. My mom had the understanding that we needed to just keep driving and get the girl to the same place as we were going.
The girl said, in an ominous tone, "I really feel sorry for you guys." I could tell that the girl knew something bad that was possibly going to happen to me and my mom. It probably had something to do with the young man who got hit by the van. But it was also connected to the girl in some way, like whatever the girl was trying to escape was whatever was coming after me and my mom, too.
I asked the girl, "What do you mean, you feel sorry for us?" I looked in the rearview mirror at the girl. I could tell the girl was too distressed to talk. I asked, "Do you just not want to tell me right now?" The girl pursed her lips in fear and shook her head. She may have been clutching a teddy bear tightly in her arms.
Dream #7
I was in some place like a Starbucks. But it was much larger than a normal Starbucks. The cashier's counter was also set at some strange angle to the rest of the store. The area around the counter was set up in a cluttered kind of way, too, with the glass display cases set at odd angles to the counter. And, behind a door behind the counter was, apparently, a really big food prep area, like this place was actually a restaurant rather than a cafe or a Starbucks.
I had ordered and had been sitting down. But now I'd stood up and come back to the counter. I may have been planning to leave. But the man behind the counter, a tall, kind of muscular black man with a bit of a feminine attitude, had either given me or sold me some extra items, so that now I felt like I should stay at the cafe to finish my items. This probably wasn't so bad, as I probably had stuff I wanted to read or write.
But now the man offered me even more food. This time it was some kind of cupcakes with a thick layer of pale brown chocolate frosting. The cupcakes looked really good. But I knew I probably shouldn't have them. But the man told me to take one.
There was some woman behind me and just to my right now. She may have been with me.
I told the man that I really couldn't take anything else. I'd probably had enough with the first stuff I'd gotten. With the second batch of stuff the guy had given me, I probably had too much. The cupcakes would make it way too much.
I was about to walk away. But now the man brought out a huge tray of some kind of sweet breads that were coated in some kind of sweet syrup. The man told me something like, "Now, you really can't resist these."
I was actually going to try and resist them. But the man actually told me something weird, like, if I didn't take one of these little cakes with me, he was going to tell everybody some dirty,little secret of mine. So I decided to take one of the cakes. They actually did look really, really good. And now I was even tempted to take one of the cupcakes with the chocolate frosting, too. I really did want to know how that frosting tasted.
*****
Update -- you can find info on images I think are related to this dream (and some others) in this entry of my dream-day blog.
Dream #1
I was on some form of public transportation, maybe a bus, but probably more like a train or a subway. We were moving along above ground. The sky outside may have been deep blue-grey, as if it were late afternoon or early morning and cloudy. I sat in seats that edged their sides against the window. In front of me was a row of seats that edged their backs against the window. There may actually have been another row of seats in front of that first row.
I was looking at my phone. A man now sat in the seats in front of me. He was skinny, with dark skin and dark, wavy hair done up in a square cut. He wore a button-up shirt and nice slacks. He smiled at me and said something like, "You looking at porn?"
I was kind of shocked. I wasn't looking at porn. But I knew I could have been at some other time. In conjunction with my shock, we may have passed over some big bump. I dropped my phone. It scuttered under the row of seats the man was sitting in.
The man didn't seem to notice that I had dropped my phone. I didn't want to act like I'd dropped my phone. I thought if I acted worried, the guy would definitely think I had been looking at porn, and he'd definitely want to look at my phone. I didn't want to ask the guy for help in getting my phone.
I was trying to figure out the best way for getting my phone. I couldn't reach for it from where I sat. It had fallen all the way to the other end of the row. So I had to get up and get it. I stood up and went for it. I knelt in front of the row of seats.
It was a little harder than I'd thought it would be to get to it. The row of seats in front of this row was so close that it was like I had to crawl under this row just to get to the back row. Instead of the man sitting there, there may now have been a Hispanic woman, maybe with one or two little kids.
I noticed that down here the seats were all dusty, too. I could see my phone (except now it may just have been a dime) at the very end of a corner formed by the row of seats and the wall. I crawled back and reached for the phone, rubbing myself up against all the dust of the seats so that I could squeeze my arm in to where the dime was.
I pulled the dime out and looked at it. I may have been sitting straight up, still under the seats, though before I'd had to do a pretty short crawl to get here. Now that I'd actually retrieved my dime, I no longer thought it had been worth all the trouble I'd gone through.
Dream #2
I was at my office. I was looking down into the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. The drawer was all full of clutter. I may have been panicked, trying to figure out how to take care of all this clutter.
I may have heard my boss' voice from behind me, talking to our office manager, BL. My boss told BL, "You'll see. We can do without him. Anybody can do his job, really."
Dream #3
I was in some place like a break room. It seemed to be at the back of a big grocery store. The break room was kind of narrow. A big, circular table with a fake wood top took up most of the room. I sat at the table. The lights in the room were all off. The only light was the fluorescent light from the store, which came in through the open door of the break room.
My boss walked in. He said something like, "You're still here? We got rid of you, didn't we? We have your replacement and everything."
I may have tried to explain something about my being here, like there were one or two things that still needed to be taken care of. But my boss said something to ridicule everything I said. He said everything in a really pissy yet nonchalant tone that made it clear he was trying to insult me as much as he could in the most tactful way possible, so that he could prove how little he felt he needed me without actually getting himself in trouble for insulting me.
I was so angry that I shouted something back at him. It was pretty violent, but I can't remember what it was. My boss didn't take what I'd said seriously at all. So I began to laugh. I told him if he didn't think I was serious, he could just wait and see. I began to laugh louder and louder.
I laughed so loud that I "woke myself up" -- somewhere. I was walking around in the grocery store, I believe. I could hear two women talking to me from somewhere, maybe from inside my head. I could tell that the two women were Hispanic. Maybe they'd been attractive before. But now they were kind of worn-out and dumpy-looking.
The two women were telling me that when I'd been laughing in my sleep, I'd been laughing so hard that I'd woken them up. They said my laugh had been an evil laugh, and that it made them afraid for my boss. I don't know how they knew I was laughing about my boss.
I myself was really surprised I could have given such an evil laugh. When the women told me that my laugh was evil, I began to worry about myself. Was I okay? Did I need psychological help?
I was now walking along the back wall of the grocery store. There was a door along the back wall. I knew that behind that door was my boss' bedroom. He was asleep in that room. It may have been like a dorm room. My boss may actually have been sharing that room with the guy my boss had hired in my place. My boss and the guy may both have been asleep.
I knew my boss had fallen asleep because he thought there was nothing to worry about from me. I was going to show him. I had a plastic bottle in my hands. Actually, the bottle in my hands kept changing. First it was a small, 600ml plastic bottle. Then it was a big plastic juice bottle, maybe around two liters. There may also have been times when I held more than one bottle in my hands. The bottles may usually have been full of orange juice. I don't think any of them were ever completely full.
I planned to sneak into my boss' bedroom while he was asleep and pound him on the head with these bottles until his skull was smashed and he died. But as I was walking up to the door of the room, two tall, very muscular, bronze-skinned men walked up from behind me. The men wore tight, dark grey or black t-shirts and maybe dull green or grey pants, also kind of tight, maybe made of denim. They had short, wavy brown hair, and square, but kind of babyish, faces.
I had a bad feeling that these guys were trying to break into my boss' bedroom. They seemed to want to steal some of the stuff in the bedroom. Apparently the bedroom was also like a storehouse for some of the most valuable stuff in the store.
I didn't want the store to get stolen from, so I began watching the guys very closely. I decided not to go into the room. The room had a sliding door with a small, inward notch of a handle, painted the same pale-tan as the rest of the door. I didn't want the two men to see how easy it was to get into the room. They'd only be more encouraged to go in.
So either I got friendly with the guys or the guys got friendly with me. We began talking, walking past the room, all of us acting like the room was of no importance to us at all. We turned right and headed down an aisle with rather large shelves, more like shelves in a huge discount warehouse than in a normal grocery store. We were talking about something that I seemed to be engaged in with a kind of childlike enthusiasm.
I got the feeling, as we continued walking, that the guys had decided they were going to protect me. But I didn't know if that was just an act. So I kept all my conversation away from anything having to do with my boss or the bedroom door.
Dream #4
I was in some restaurant. I probably worked there. The restaurant had a long, narrow eating area and a small kitchen, most of which was visible from behind a counter. The restaurant was closed at the moment. But we were apparently preparing, so we could open up for some big party later in the day. The party may have been planned to be a multiple-day party. It may also have been the case that we had just closed down for the day, but that we now had to prepare all of our food for the next day.
Most of the workers seemed to be hanging around in the eating area, toward the back, at a couple of tables. It seemed like they, in general, really didn't have anything to do with the cooking, or maybe even the serving of the food. It seemed like they were all some kind of bosses, more concerned with the administrative aspects of the restaurant. There were one or two cooks behind the counter.
I'm not sure exactly what my job was. But somehow, I was keeping track of the amount of food made. I was also somehow involved in determining how much food needed to be made. At some point I had concluded that we didn't need to make a whole lot. We probably hadn't had much business the day before, and it looked like things weren't going to be any more active the next day. Plus, with the kind of food we made (some kind of fish?), it was much better to cook too little and have the food be fresh and good, than to cook too much and have food go bad.
The cook or cooks took my advice and began cooking only a little bit of food. I think I saw the preparations -- something like sheet pans with circular items, like biscuits, except made of fish, laid out on them.
But now I heard from the front door that the next day of the party was going to be really busy. There would probably be a lot of people here. And, in fact, a large group of people might even have made a reservation specifically for this restaurant.
I was excited. I ran back to the cooks and told them that we now needed to cook a lot of food. We were going to have a full house. Suddenly the cooks had all kinds of big fillets of fish, all being fried and laid out on pans everywhere. There were all kinds of pans of greasy, still-bubbling, fried fish -- everywhere.
I walked away from the cooks' counter and back toward the back of the store, where the other guys sat. I suddenly had a bad feeling that I'd told the cooks to make way too much food. The place would probably not be busy enough to serve all that food. If it were busier than the other days, we'd be kind of okay. But we'd still have too much food. But if it were only as busy as the other days, we'd have a whole lot of food and waste on our hands. We'd have wasted a lot of money.
Dream #5
It was probably a fresh, crisp morning. I was out walking around some place like a small town or a college town or campus, leading a small group of new students in some kind of orientation program. Everybody seemed cheerful and relaxed, even though I think we had gotten to some place where I really didn't know where I was going. We were walking along some grey flagstone path in between some large lawns, at the end of which were large, stately buildings.
A group of guys came walking our way from the other direction. They were all a lot taller and stronger than I. One of the guys, a black man with a shaved head, asked if we knew where we were going. I probably walked up to the guy and mumble-whispered something like, "I don't know where we're going. Do you think you could show us the way -- but without letting on that I don't know what I'm doing?"
We stood before a black iron gate (on my right side) that was hinged on either side with a maybe 2 meter tall stone post. The gate was already partly open. The man opened the gate the rest of the way for us. We all cheerfully walked in. After the gate was a flagstone path that led directly up to one of the big, stately buildings.
The man pointed out a stack of textbooks on the right side of the flagstone path. The top book may have had a yellow cover. The book may have been a mathematics textbook.
The man said, "I think somebody left their textbooks on the path." I knew that this was the way the man was justifying having given me directions for where to go. If he opened the gate and pointed out the books, it would just look like he was pointing out the books, not pointing out the direction I was supposed to take.
I may have replied that the person who owned these books (maybe some female student?) wasn't here, but that I'd make sure to get the books to her. I probably went to pick the books up.
Dream #6
It was morning. I was out with some young, black man on a road, probably in a neighborhood full of fenced parking lots and warehouses. It may have been like I was going to work. It may have been a hot, kind of smoggy morning. The sky was a sour yellow, with the sun just coming up over the horizon.
There were a decent amount of cars in the street, all heading to some warehouse yard to start work. The boy and I seemed to be in a hurry, even though I don't think either of us was too keen to start work.
The boy suddenly had an idea that to get to work quicker we could "hitch a ride." But this hitching a ride didn't necessarily mean getting permission to ride with somebody and getting into their car. The boy told me, "Come on!" He ran up to some van that may have been full of young people, like college students or recent college graduates in something like an intern program. The boy seemed just to jump onto the back or the side of the van and hold on as the van drove away.
I knew that the boy was doing this less because he was in a hurry to get to work and more because he simply didn't feel like walking the rest of the way to work. But I was in a hurry to get to work, and, even though I didn't like the boy's idea, I thought it seemed smart enough that I'd better do it. So I jumped onto a van, possibly not the same van as the boy had jumped onto.
But as I was jumping onto the van I noticed that at one intersection, at which we had just turned left, there was so much traffic that everything had come to a standstill. I was now somehow inside the van. All the young people seemed to make me feel welcome. There may have been a pretty, little, skinny white girl with big, blue-green eyes and her brown hair back in a loose ponytail.
At some point I may have decided that it would be easier just to get out and walk. But suddenly an accident occurred. We'd been moving forward, when we'd hit my friend who'd jumped on the other van. Apparently he'd gotten off the van -- maybe he'd been thrown off of it. But we'd actually driven right over him. It was obvious that he was dead -- crushed. But I didn't want to believe it.
I think I'd gotten out of the van I was in, as if that would reverse my friend's death. I was walking to work. But then at some point I was driving in a car -- a yellow taxi-cab, actually -- with my mom. My mom was driving. I sat in the front passenger seat.
We turned right and drove through an open gate. We were heading along a wide road through a wide lawn. Up ahead was a big, stately building, like a college building. But I looked up ahead and to my left and saw that there were people out here training to be astronauts. Some people may even have been wearing full astronaut outfits for spacewalks.
Suddenly, from nearby, on the left side of the road, there were two people: a boy and a girl. I'm not sure what happened to the boy. He may simply have run off into the field. But the girl ran directly in front of our car. My mom had to step on the breaks really quickly. Even then we barely missed hitting the girl.
The girl was a beautiful, tall, skinny, black girl with long, loosely curly, black hair. She wore a schoolgirl's outfit, with a tartan skirt and overall-blouse and a white button-up shirt. But she was a college student, or at least preparing to become a college student.
The girl looked terribly panicked. She gave me and my mom a look, like she knew she'd forced us to stop, but that she'd had to do it. She quickly ran around to the back passenger side of the car and got in. My mom had the understanding that we needed to just keep driving and get the girl to the same place as we were going.
The girl said, in an ominous tone, "I really feel sorry for you guys." I could tell that the girl knew something bad that was possibly going to happen to me and my mom. It probably had something to do with the young man who got hit by the van. But it was also connected to the girl in some way, like whatever the girl was trying to escape was whatever was coming after me and my mom, too.
I asked the girl, "What do you mean, you feel sorry for us?" I looked in the rearview mirror at the girl. I could tell the girl was too distressed to talk. I asked, "Do you just not want to tell me right now?" The girl pursed her lips in fear and shook her head. She may have been clutching a teddy bear tightly in her arms.
Dream #7
I was in some place like a Starbucks. But it was much larger than a normal Starbucks. The cashier's counter was also set at some strange angle to the rest of the store. The area around the counter was set up in a cluttered kind of way, too, with the glass display cases set at odd angles to the counter. And, behind a door behind the counter was, apparently, a really big food prep area, like this place was actually a restaurant rather than a cafe or a Starbucks.
I had ordered and had been sitting down. But now I'd stood up and come back to the counter. I may have been planning to leave. But the man behind the counter, a tall, kind of muscular black man with a bit of a feminine attitude, had either given me or sold me some extra items, so that now I felt like I should stay at the cafe to finish my items. This probably wasn't so bad, as I probably had stuff I wanted to read or write.
But now the man offered me even more food. This time it was some kind of cupcakes with a thick layer of pale brown chocolate frosting. The cupcakes looked really good. But I knew I probably shouldn't have them. But the man told me to take one.
There was some woman behind me and just to my right now. She may have been with me.
I told the man that I really couldn't take anything else. I'd probably had enough with the first stuff I'd gotten. With the second batch of stuff the guy had given me, I probably had too much. The cupcakes would make it way too much.
I was about to walk away. But now the man brought out a huge tray of some kind of sweet breads that were coated in some kind of sweet syrup. The man told me something like, "Now, you really can't resist these."
I was actually going to try and resist them. But the man actually told me something weird, like, if I didn't take one of these little cakes with me, he was going to tell everybody some dirty,little secret of mine. So I decided to take one of the cakes. They actually did look really, really good. And now I was even tempted to take one of the cupcakes with the chocolate frosting, too. I really did want to know how that frosting tasted.
*****
Update -- you can find info on images I think are related to this dream (and some others) in this entry of my dream-day blog.
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