Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was in a car with a male relative of mine, maybe my cousin or my brother, on a hot, sunny road. The road looked like Second Avenue just above Houston Street in Manhattan, except that the street was a lot wider. The sky was so sunny it may almost have been yellow. My cousin/brother was probably in the driver's seat. I was in the passenger's seat.
Our car was stopped probably in the middle of a block. We may have ostensibly been stopped at a traffic light or stop sign, though it (now) seems like we were way too far from the end of the block to have done something like that. There weren't a lot of other cars on the street, but the cars near us were also stopped.
It seemed like we had been stopped a long time. My cousin/brother and I were talking about something, maybe to keep our minds off of the boredom of being stopped. Or, possibly, my cousin/brother may have been talking about how bored he was while we were stopped and waiting, while I was trying to distract him and make him a little more patient by talking about other stuff.
Suddenly, a fighter jet flew in front of us. It was only a hundred meteres or so up in the air, and it only seemed to be a few blocks away. It flew at a normal position for a moment, then twisted onto its right side to make a turn. Either my cousin/brother or I called out the jet.
I tried to get a better look at the jet, to determine what it was. At first I thought it was an F-35. But something about its shape didn't seem quite right. I almost knew what the jet was, but I couldn't quite think of the name.
The jet flew around to our right, seeming to get closer and closer. I could see it through my windows, just over the building tops. As the jet got closer, it took on more of a triangular shape, like the wings had become long and sleek, clinging tightly to the sides of the jet. I really had no idea what the jet was, now. I got a view of the underside of the jet, which somehow reminded me of a mix between a fighter jet and a commercial airliner.
The jet flew around the back side of our car. I turned to see the jet through the back window. t seemed to be descending. I may have had the ominous feeling that the jet was actually looking directly at my car. I may have wondered if the jet hadn't been sent to follow me as a potential criminal. Possibly to shake off the ominous feeling, I turned around and looked forward, possibly even hoping to clear the thought of the fighter jet out of my memory altogether.
But now the jet flew over the car and began to land maybe twenty or thirty meters away from the car. It was hovering and descending like a helicopter would. The jet was huge. Its back end was kind of strange, with maybe four jets coming off the back end, in a horizontal row. The jets were like rounded rectangles.
The jet released one huge blast of air from its jets. I thought -- I may even have "explained" to my cousin/brother! -- that the blast was like a little cushion of air to help the jet land softly. But the blast was so strong that it actually began pushing the car backwards. The few cars around us didn't seem to be affected.
The car kept moving backward. It didn't seem like it would stop. I now knew that the jet had made the blast of air expressly to get this car moving, and that it would probably keep the car moving. The jet, which may have stayed landed, was now also above us.
The jet again blasted us with air, causing us to move backwards under its direction, maybe even taking a few turns along the road. Other cars around us -- there were a lot more, now -- were driving forward, in a normal flow of traffic, not unaware of us, but not more aware of us than they would be of any other cars on the street.
The jet now somehow lifted us up off the road. We may have been lifted with a blast of air. But the blast of air, I thought to myself, if it was a blast of air, was now acting like a tractor beam. The car was flown over some buildings, then over a densely packed area of buildings that were maybe four or five stories tall. It was like all the roads were gone, and like now all there were were buildings. But I felt like I was just in some "back area," like an alleyway, or a secret entrance area for all these buildings.
At some point during all of this, the car began moving forward instead of being pulled backward. The jet may now have been gone. My brother/cousin may also have been gone, or I may simply have been less aware of him.
I was directed to a building-sized hole set into a cluster of buildings. Something about this hole reminded me of a multi-story parking garage. But it was very dark and shadowy, and something about its edges seemed more like the walls of a demolished building, or the gaping maw of a monster. Red-painted metal tracks, like the tracks of a modern high-speed roller coaster, came twisting up out of the abyss. My car was directed to and then linked up with the tracks.
I knew, or at least assumed, that the tracks would lead down into some government building. As I'd suspected, I thought, the government had brought me here. I coasted along the twists and turns of the track, always heading toward the black abyss, but never seeming to reach it.
I was a bit apprehensive. I reflected that I didn't know whether I was being brought here by the government for a good or bad reason. Did the government want me because they felt I had some kind of special talent? Or did they want me because they felt like I was involved with some kind of heinous crime. I knew that if they thought I was involved with a crime, they'd probably torture me.
Even though I knew I hadn't been involved with anything bad, I assumed I was probably being brought here to be tortured. I wasn't afraid of the pain as much as I was afraid that, in pain, I would embarrass myself by acting weak and screaming and crying.
Dream #2
I was sitting at "my office," which was a big, unfinished room filled with natural light. The room felt like the side room of a large house, or like some long, narrow room in a basement. The floors were probably linoleum tile. The walls were really tall, tall as walls in a mansion. But they had a cheap look to them. Windows ran all along the top of the wall to my left, letting in dazzling beams of white-gold sunlight.
I sat at the left corner of a long table. The table was like a mix between a trading desk and a lunchroom table. My computer -- possibly an old, clunky, 1980s style computer, and possibly a phone, were the only things on the desk.
I sat before the computer and spoke on the phone. I was probably running down some sort of call list that I had on my screen. I had just managed to get a hold of some insurance agency that was listed at the bottom of my screen. The insurance agency's name was the same as the last name of the owner. Something about that name seemed really familiar to me.
A woman picked up the phone and answered with her name. I recognized the woman's first name and the woman's voice. She was MM, a client of mine from a job I'd been laid off from four years ago. She had simply taken on her married name while she was working at this insurance office, which she and her husband ran together.
Happy to speak with MM again, I said who I was, asked MM if she remembered me, and asked how she was doing. I never really heard MM's voice responding to me. But I knew she had now probably asked why I was at the job I was at, and what kind of work I was doing.
I pushed myself backward, away from my desk, and then forward and off to my right, toward the exit from this room, on something like a mix between an office chair and a skateboard. All this time I was still talking on a phone, which may have been a cord-bound, landline phone.
I kind of skirted the issue of why I was working at this new job, though now that MM had brought up the question of why, I now felt a little ashamed of the fact that I was working here. Instead, I explained what the job was.
Apparently, I was something like the first line of attack in a collections agency, or something like that. When people were in financial trouble with a company that had loaned them money or given them credit, the people were sent over either to me or to my company. I then had the job of calling these people and telling them that their credit was in trouble.
This, I'm pretty sure, was all I was supposed to do. The people who had been notified and who had accepted the information were then routed to some kind of credit repair or debt collection place. Somehow I earned money for each person I'd spoken with who had accepted the fact that they needed to start work on the first stages of whatever process they would then be put through.
I had an image of a call list for my job. It seemed to be like an Excel spreadsheet. But it seemed to be written on paper, in bright, red crayon, and possibly in a childlike scrawl. I tried to explain to MM that felt like this was a really good business to be in, and that I could make a lot of money from it, even though I myself was beginning to have doubts about that.
As I continued speaking with MM, I was wheeling myself into a different room, with cheap wood-paneled walls and thin, grey carpet. I wheeled myself up to a long, wooden desk, like the sales desk of some old merchandise shop, and then out into a larger, office-like area of the room, through a waist-high, swinging door.
Showing posts with label wheelchair. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wheelchair. Show all posts
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Friday, September 14, 2012
rejecting gay proposition; naked around the house; a day off in africa
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was sitting at a cafe. The cafe was very large, with a rustic kind of feel to it. The floors were stone tile. The walls may have been yellow-painted plaster or stucco, with crevices of vanilla white exposed here and there. There were a lot of people all around.
I may have been sitting with a friend. But my friend may have gotten up to get something else from the front counter. I now noticed a man sitting at a table to my right. The man was tall, white, and muscular. He was wearing a business suit. At first I thought the man was going to take a snobby view toward me. But instead he noticed that I was reading an interesting book. He asked me what the book was about.
I started telling the man about the book when two black men walked up to the man's table. They were friends with the man. Each of them made a fist and knocked it (side to side, not front to front) against the man's fist. Both the men were tall and a bit chubby, like they had been muscular in the past, or could be muscular, but were now just losing their tone.
The man finished talking to his friends. By this time I'd kind of gone back to my own thoughts. But now the two men walked over to my table. One of the men was attracted to me. But he was shy. His friend said, "If you think he's cute, you should say something to him."
The man who liked me asked me, "What are you doing tonight?"
I wasn't interested in being with the man. So I told him, "I'm not going to do anything. I just need to go home and relax. I have a lot of stuff to do at home."
I imagined the street outside: a thin, cobblestone street with old, stucco-like buildings on either side, and patches of sunlight falling down to the street here and there. I became so focused on that view that I actually ended up out there. The two men were still behind me.
I turned to the two men and said, "Look, I'm really not interested in you. I'm sorry. I wish you'd leave me alone."
The two men turned and started walking away. I heard the man who didn't like me say something about how what I'd just said could be construed as discrimination and that now he was going to convince the man who liked me that he should sue me for harassment.
I stomped up behind the two men. But then I was staring at some old movie poster on a wooden door. I told the man (who may now have looked like Vinod Khosla?) that if he wanted to talk about discrimination, he could talk about it to my face. I was really angry. I then made some comment that implied that if the man really wanted to argue with me, I'd just kill him.
Dream #2
I was at "my family's house," a big house with a lot of rooms, though it was in terrible shape. I had been sitting in one room, having a talk with my mom and my brother. We may have been going over something like a business plan.
The conversation was now over. I may have had an uneasy feeling about the whole thing. I was probably living with my family. But now that I had this uneasy feeling, I may have been trying to figure out a way to stop living with my family.
But first I needed to take a shower. I went into the bathroom. I took off all my clothes and hung them up on a rack. But I realized I needed a towel. So I went down the hallway (naked???) to go grab one. But a few steps down the hallway, I could hear someone else hurrying into the bathroom. I turned around and hurried back to the bathroom. The person had already turned the shower on. There was a crack in the door. I couldn't see much. But I thought I saw someone getting into the shower.
I was really annoyed. I said out loud, "God! It's like you guys see me doing something, you know I need to do it, and so as soon as you get the chance, you stop me from doing it! God! I'm standing out here naked!"
My mom called from inside the bathroom, "You know, you don't have to be so rude about everything! I wasn't coming in here because I wanted to annoy you! I just thought now would be a good time to clean the bathroom!"
I said, "You knew someone was using the bathroom. How could you not see my clothes hanging up?"
My mom said, "I didn't see any clothes. All I saw were old, used towels that are just sparkling with filth!"
I was too annoyed to carry the conversation any further. I walked into another room. I was convinced I was going to leave this place for good. I was in a huge, but kind of cluttered, bedroom, standing right before a bed. I was trying really hard to come up with a plan of some other place in the world I could go to, where I could at least lead a fulfilling life.
But my thoughts were interrupted by two nurses pushing a naked, fat lady into the room. I suddenly wondered whether I was in an inappropriate room. But the nurses were simply pushing the woman through this room and into an adjacent one.
The woman had apparently suffered from some really bad stroke or something. She couldn't speak, and she could only barely comprehend the things spoken to her. She was being pushed to the room to have her lunch. This was being explained to her. But the woman didn't want her lunch to have a certain ingredient in it. The nurses were doing their best to convince the woman her lunch didn't have that ingredient. The woman wanted something else, too, maybe business papers. The nurses were also trying to explain to the woman that she would have what she wanted.
Dream #3
I was at "my office," standing just outside the square of cubicles that held my cubicle. I had taken the day off from work, but I'd had to come in to get something anyway. In the cubicle area there were two new people who'd started work just today. I knew one of them, a young man who looked like one of my old co-workers, JR. The other person was a very young and pretty woman with chestnut-brown hair and olive skin. She wore a hot pink t-shirt and black sweats.
The man and woman were both writing reports. I made a half-joking comment to the man about writing reports, maybe something to do with the web-based system for writing the reports. The man chuckled. He took the serious part of my statement and ran with it, explaining something he liked about writing reports. I agreed with him.
I saw that the man was making some kind of design on his computer screen. The design looked like a pink background with spray-paint-like squiggles all over it. This inspired me to tell the man that I really liked the artistic side of the report writing process. The man agreed with me.
The woman had gotten my attention somehow. Her desk was just outside the square of cubicles, so she was right by me. She may have had her knees against my torso, like she was sitting curled up in her chair. I was aroused by this. But I was also a little ashamed for being aroused. The girl looked extremely young now, maybe not even in her teens yet. But she was really turning me on.
The young man seemed to notice my attraction to the girl. So he wanted to compete with me for the girl's attention. The girl spoke to us about some photo project she had been involved with. Somehow the project may have involved my aunt and her youngest daughter. Somehow the pictures had improved in quality as time had gone on.
The girl opened up a book of photos. Most of them were "family photos," although they appear to me now to have been photos of young men and women at a high school or college party. There were lots of young faces, illuminated in the dark by flash bulbs.
But the photos changed to photos of people in Africa. And suddenly I was "inside" the photos, though not interacting with them at all. I was standing outside among a group of people. Some people stood. Some people sat in folding chairs. The group was loose and relaxed, sitting out on a concrete curb and even in the middle of a wide dirt road.
Everybody seemed to be dressed in Carnival clothing. The clothing was all yellow, green, and black. The women and men wore smallish, spandex or lycra, underwear-like garments. The women had skirt-like garments over the underwear. The men may have worn more cloth-like garments over their chests, something like a mix between a flag and a toga.
Suddenly there was an earthquake. The tremors were very quick. But they were strong enough to make one or two people fall over. The people who didn't fall laughed at the people who fell. The people who'd fallen stood up, shook themselves off, and laughed as well.
I got the feeling that I was watching a film. I couldn't hear anything, but I could see motion. But I could also feel the atmosphere. I didn't know how this could be. I suddenly got the idea that I was reviewing some new "photo experiment" technology that my cousin had created and tested, and that this series of "photos" had been the subject of my cousin's first test.
But then there was another tremor. Suddenly everybody became very serious. They knew the earthquake was probably mild. But they knew that they'd better get to an earthquake shelter, just to be safe. Almost all of them stood up and calmly, but quickly, walked toward an earthquake shelter.
I was left with only a couple of people, probably the older people of the town. One of them stood up to interact with me -- or, actually, with my cousin. It was like I was not only seeing through my cousin's eyes, but also speaking the words my cousin had spoken while she was down in Africa, testing out this new technology.
The man coming up to interact with the woman had a huge head. His forehead was about three times the size of the rest of his head. His eyes looked wise and gentle. But his mouth was thin and featureless, almost like a cartoon drawing of a shy child's mouth. Nevertheless, this man was considered one of the leaders of the town, and one of the toughest and most violent of the town's men.
I had a feeling he was acting kindly toward my cousin only because he eventually hoped that she would slip up and offend him in some way, so that he could kill her. This made me reflect on how brave my cousin had actually been to get this kind of footage. Not only was she braving earthquakes, she was befriending some extremely violent people.
Dream #1
I was sitting at a cafe. The cafe was very large, with a rustic kind of feel to it. The floors were stone tile. The walls may have been yellow-painted plaster or stucco, with crevices of vanilla white exposed here and there. There were a lot of people all around.
I may have been sitting with a friend. But my friend may have gotten up to get something else from the front counter. I now noticed a man sitting at a table to my right. The man was tall, white, and muscular. He was wearing a business suit. At first I thought the man was going to take a snobby view toward me. But instead he noticed that I was reading an interesting book. He asked me what the book was about.
I started telling the man about the book when two black men walked up to the man's table. They were friends with the man. Each of them made a fist and knocked it (side to side, not front to front) against the man's fist. Both the men were tall and a bit chubby, like they had been muscular in the past, or could be muscular, but were now just losing their tone.
The man finished talking to his friends. By this time I'd kind of gone back to my own thoughts. But now the two men walked over to my table. One of the men was attracted to me. But he was shy. His friend said, "If you think he's cute, you should say something to him."
The man who liked me asked me, "What are you doing tonight?"
I wasn't interested in being with the man. So I told him, "I'm not going to do anything. I just need to go home and relax. I have a lot of stuff to do at home."
I imagined the street outside: a thin, cobblestone street with old, stucco-like buildings on either side, and patches of sunlight falling down to the street here and there. I became so focused on that view that I actually ended up out there. The two men were still behind me.
I turned to the two men and said, "Look, I'm really not interested in you. I'm sorry. I wish you'd leave me alone."
The two men turned and started walking away. I heard the man who didn't like me say something about how what I'd just said could be construed as discrimination and that now he was going to convince the man who liked me that he should sue me for harassment.
I stomped up behind the two men. But then I was staring at some old movie poster on a wooden door. I told the man (who may now have looked like Vinod Khosla?) that if he wanted to talk about discrimination, he could talk about it to my face. I was really angry. I then made some comment that implied that if the man really wanted to argue with me, I'd just kill him.
Dream #2
I was at "my family's house," a big house with a lot of rooms, though it was in terrible shape. I had been sitting in one room, having a talk with my mom and my brother. We may have been going over something like a business plan.
The conversation was now over. I may have had an uneasy feeling about the whole thing. I was probably living with my family. But now that I had this uneasy feeling, I may have been trying to figure out a way to stop living with my family.
But first I needed to take a shower. I went into the bathroom. I took off all my clothes and hung them up on a rack. But I realized I needed a towel. So I went down the hallway (naked???) to go grab one. But a few steps down the hallway, I could hear someone else hurrying into the bathroom. I turned around and hurried back to the bathroom. The person had already turned the shower on. There was a crack in the door. I couldn't see much. But I thought I saw someone getting into the shower.
I was really annoyed. I said out loud, "God! It's like you guys see me doing something, you know I need to do it, and so as soon as you get the chance, you stop me from doing it! God! I'm standing out here naked!"
My mom called from inside the bathroom, "You know, you don't have to be so rude about everything! I wasn't coming in here because I wanted to annoy you! I just thought now would be a good time to clean the bathroom!"
I said, "You knew someone was using the bathroom. How could you not see my clothes hanging up?"
My mom said, "I didn't see any clothes. All I saw were old, used towels that are just sparkling with filth!"
I was too annoyed to carry the conversation any further. I walked into another room. I was convinced I was going to leave this place for good. I was in a huge, but kind of cluttered, bedroom, standing right before a bed. I was trying really hard to come up with a plan of some other place in the world I could go to, where I could at least lead a fulfilling life.
But my thoughts were interrupted by two nurses pushing a naked, fat lady into the room. I suddenly wondered whether I was in an inappropriate room. But the nurses were simply pushing the woman through this room and into an adjacent one.
The woman had apparently suffered from some really bad stroke or something. She couldn't speak, and she could only barely comprehend the things spoken to her. She was being pushed to the room to have her lunch. This was being explained to her. But the woman didn't want her lunch to have a certain ingredient in it. The nurses were doing their best to convince the woman her lunch didn't have that ingredient. The woman wanted something else, too, maybe business papers. The nurses were also trying to explain to the woman that she would have what she wanted.
Dream #3
I was at "my office," standing just outside the square of cubicles that held my cubicle. I had taken the day off from work, but I'd had to come in to get something anyway. In the cubicle area there were two new people who'd started work just today. I knew one of them, a young man who looked like one of my old co-workers, JR. The other person was a very young and pretty woman with chestnut-brown hair and olive skin. She wore a hot pink t-shirt and black sweats.
The man and woman were both writing reports. I made a half-joking comment to the man about writing reports, maybe something to do with the web-based system for writing the reports. The man chuckled. He took the serious part of my statement and ran with it, explaining something he liked about writing reports. I agreed with him.
I saw that the man was making some kind of design on his computer screen. The design looked like a pink background with spray-paint-like squiggles all over it. This inspired me to tell the man that I really liked the artistic side of the report writing process. The man agreed with me.
The woman had gotten my attention somehow. Her desk was just outside the square of cubicles, so she was right by me. She may have had her knees against my torso, like she was sitting curled up in her chair. I was aroused by this. But I was also a little ashamed for being aroused. The girl looked extremely young now, maybe not even in her teens yet. But she was really turning me on.
The young man seemed to notice my attraction to the girl. So he wanted to compete with me for the girl's attention. The girl spoke to us about some photo project she had been involved with. Somehow the project may have involved my aunt and her youngest daughter. Somehow the pictures had improved in quality as time had gone on.
The girl opened up a book of photos. Most of them were "family photos," although they appear to me now to have been photos of young men and women at a high school or college party. There were lots of young faces, illuminated in the dark by flash bulbs.
But the photos changed to photos of people in Africa. And suddenly I was "inside" the photos, though not interacting with them at all. I was standing outside among a group of people. Some people stood. Some people sat in folding chairs. The group was loose and relaxed, sitting out on a concrete curb and even in the middle of a wide dirt road.
Everybody seemed to be dressed in Carnival clothing. The clothing was all yellow, green, and black. The women and men wore smallish, spandex or lycra, underwear-like garments. The women had skirt-like garments over the underwear. The men may have worn more cloth-like garments over their chests, something like a mix between a flag and a toga.
Suddenly there was an earthquake. The tremors were very quick. But they were strong enough to make one or two people fall over. The people who didn't fall laughed at the people who fell. The people who'd fallen stood up, shook themselves off, and laughed as well.
I got the feeling that I was watching a film. I couldn't hear anything, but I could see motion. But I could also feel the atmosphere. I didn't know how this could be. I suddenly got the idea that I was reviewing some new "photo experiment" technology that my cousin had created and tested, and that this series of "photos" had been the subject of my cousin's first test.
But then there was another tremor. Suddenly everybody became very serious. They knew the earthquake was probably mild. But they knew that they'd better get to an earthquake shelter, just to be safe. Almost all of them stood up and calmly, but quickly, walked toward an earthquake shelter.
I was left with only a couple of people, probably the older people of the town. One of them stood up to interact with me -- or, actually, with my cousin. It was like I was not only seeing through my cousin's eyes, but also speaking the words my cousin had spoken while she was down in Africa, testing out this new technology.
The man coming up to interact with the woman had a huge head. His forehead was about three times the size of the rest of his head. His eyes looked wise and gentle. But his mouth was thin and featureless, almost like a cartoon drawing of a shy child's mouth. Nevertheless, this man was considered one of the leaders of the town, and one of the toughest and most violent of the town's men.
I had a feeling he was acting kindly toward my cousin only because he eventually hoped that she would slip up and offend him in some way, so that he could kill her. This made me reflect on how brave my cousin had actually been to get this kind of footage. Not only was she braving earthquakes, she was befriending some extremely violent people.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
would she fly the spaceship?
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was floating, probably over some kind of computerized-looking river and landscape. I was actually standing on some rectangle, maybe ten meters long and five meters wide. A similar rectangle floated about 5 meters over my head. The squares were a tannish, electronic color. The river was a mixture of purple and tan, the liquidy flowing of it making it look like chrome. The city in the distance, as well as the sky, were also some kind of tannish, electronic color.
A man sat on the floating rectangle with me. He was either sitting in a wheelchair or in a regular chair. He was old, and he seemed to be too weak to stand. I admired him, and he was in a position of authority, but he didn't have any authority over me. I think I probably would have liked to work for him. But it seemed like that wasn't going to happen.
The man asked me about my old friend, KU. He told me he wanted her for some project, which was for operating some vehicle, possibly a car, but probably a spaceship.
I called KU somehow. She appeared. The old man spoke back and forth with KU about the project. I may have had to intercede somehow, occasionally, to help KU understand exactly what the old man was saying.
It seemed like KU actually wasn't interested in taking the assignment. I really wanted KU to take the assignment. It sounded really exciting, and I was sure that once she started it she'd really like it. But I knew that I couldn't push her to do anything. The best way to try to persuade KU would be by remaining cheerful and explaining the good points of the project. If she accepted, she accepted. If she didn't, she didn't.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
daycare diaper potty
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was in some place like a school or daycare for young children. I'm pretty sure I was an adult assigned to supervising the children.
We all stood out in some kind of concrete yard. The yard was huge, like a few basketball courts all put together. On one side of the concrete yard was a huge, brick or concrete building, which was the school or day care building. On the other side of the yard was a huge fence.
I may actually have come through this fence, entering the yard, as I spoke with a woman who was already inside with the children. The woman was taller than me and she seemed mature more mature, although not much older than I am IWL. She probably had tan skin and short, black hair. She probably wore a jacket-like, red blouse and a red skirt that went down to just below her knees.
I seemed to have to wind my way through a few layers of fence before I actually got inside. Once inside I stood near a dense cluster of kids who stood at tables, possibly even foosball tables. I also saw into a room in the day care building. There were a few rooms in a row with their doors open. But I think I only looked into one of the rooms.
All this time, I had been asking the woman something. It was part of a favor for my friend, who was another woman. At first I think my "asking" was more like thinking in my head. But then I could really hear my voice clearly as I asked the question.
I said, "A friend of mine is going to be in this part of town. She's going to be bringing a girl with her. The girl is just a kid. My friend is the girl's mentor. But they're looking for something to do. I was wondering if... I know we're not supposed to allow any other adults into this center... But I was wondering if my friend could bring the girl in here, and they could play on our raquetball courts for a little while."
The woman and I were walking out onto a wide, open area in the concrete yard. The foosball players were behind us. I could imagine the raquetball courts just behind the area where the foosball players were playing.
I knew that the rules didn't allow any adults to come into the daycare center. But I thought (and I may have said to the woman) that perhaps my friend and the girl she was helping could come in here when all the kids were in class. This didn't seem quite plausible to me. I thought that there were always at least a few kids out here all the time, since the timing of different classes were staggered. But I thought that maybe my friend could come here when the fewest children were here, and so do the least damage.
Up at the end of the concrete yard was something like a covered walkway, a tunnel-like hallway through the day care building. I saw my old friend Y coming up through the walkway, out onto the concrete yard. She was stumbling and holding onto the right (my right) wall, as if she were drunk. Her shirt was hanging off, exposing a blue, satiny bra with lace trim. She had long, long hair. Mascara smears trailed down from her eyes.
The daycare teacher, walking at my right side, spoke to me. (She now seemed a lot taller than I.) She told me I couldn't bring my friend into the daycare because there were no adults allowed. I already felt ashamed for even having asked. But the daycare teacher told me that, instead of worrying about my friend, maybe I could occupy myself by taking care of one of my other friends.
Just like I may have been a child supervisor, this other friend of mine may also have been a child supervisor. But she was in a wheelchair and she needed a lot of assistance in taking care of herself.
My wheelchair friend was suddenly before my teacher and I. My wheelchair friend was blonde, maybe about my age or a little older, though her face may have been a little round and chubby, like a baby's.
The daycare teacher had kept walking forward, possibly saying that she had to go take care of some other kids. I took hold of my friend's wheelchair and turned it in a beeline, heading back toward some place, possibly toward some room where I could take care of my friend.
I was now in some big room. It was like a library in a mansion, with heavy, dark wood walls. But it seemed to be almost completely empty of furniture.
Some time had probably passed. I was laying on the top bunk of some extremely tall bunk bed. I knew my wheelchair friend was somewhere down below me, maybe sleeping on the bottom bunk. We had both either slept or had gotten ready to go to sleep for the night. But now I felt the need to make sure that something was okay for my friend.
So I (flew? floated?) down to the floor of this enormous, heavy-wood-walled room. I landed on some gigantic Persian rug. I could tell that my friend had left the room. The door to the room was probably cracked open.
I knew my friend would come back. She'd just had to take care of something for herself. But I was a little disappointed to know that she had gone off to take care of something for herself, when I was supposed to be the one caring for her.
I looked down at myself to see that I was wearing nothing but a huge diaper. I was surprised to be wearing a diaper, even though I think I liked it. I think I was excited to show my friend that I was wearing a diaper. I think my friend was also wearing a diaper. I felt like both of us wearing diapers would make us both adult babies. So we'd have something in common!
I started to pee in my diaper. I kept peeing and peeing. I didn't know whether this diaper would hold as much pee as I seemed to be giving out. But I just kept going and going, hoping I could stop myself if I started to leak.
But I finally stopped peeing. My diaper hadn't leaked, though it was really, really full. I couldn't see my diaper, for some reason. But I knew it was probably huge and soggy. I could feel it really huge between my legs as I waddle-walked around in it.
I couldn't wait to show my friend how much I'd pottied in my diaper! I thought she'd be really turned on, or at least impressed, by how full my diaper was.
But then I suddenly wondered: did I mess something up? Did I somehow turn the tables around through some incompetence of mine? It seemed like I was now thinking of my friend as my caretaker, instead of as myself as my friend's caretaker. I was definitely looking forward to my friend changing my diaper, for instance. But I was also disappointed in myself for making myself so I was the one in need of care. I hoped my friend wouldn't also be disappointed in me.
I imagined my friend coming back into the room as a tall, blonde, beautiful business woman in her early to mid forties. I imagined her wearing a cream-colored, button-up blouse and a long, thick-fabric, brown skirt.
Dream #1
I was in some place like a school or daycare for young children. I'm pretty sure I was an adult assigned to supervising the children.
We all stood out in some kind of concrete yard. The yard was huge, like a few basketball courts all put together. On one side of the concrete yard was a huge, brick or concrete building, which was the school or day care building. On the other side of the yard was a huge fence.
I may actually have come through this fence, entering the yard, as I spoke with a woman who was already inside with the children. The woman was taller than me and she seemed mature more mature, although not much older than I am IWL. She probably had tan skin and short, black hair. She probably wore a jacket-like, red blouse and a red skirt that went down to just below her knees.
I seemed to have to wind my way through a few layers of fence before I actually got inside. Once inside I stood near a dense cluster of kids who stood at tables, possibly even foosball tables. I also saw into a room in the day care building. There were a few rooms in a row with their doors open. But I think I only looked into one of the rooms.
All this time, I had been asking the woman something. It was part of a favor for my friend, who was another woman. At first I think my "asking" was more like thinking in my head. But then I could really hear my voice clearly as I asked the question.
I said, "A friend of mine is going to be in this part of town. She's going to be bringing a girl with her. The girl is just a kid. My friend is the girl's mentor. But they're looking for something to do. I was wondering if... I know we're not supposed to allow any other adults into this center... But I was wondering if my friend could bring the girl in here, and they could play on our raquetball courts for a little while."
The woman and I were walking out onto a wide, open area in the concrete yard. The foosball players were behind us. I could imagine the raquetball courts just behind the area where the foosball players were playing.
I knew that the rules didn't allow any adults to come into the daycare center. But I thought (and I may have said to the woman) that perhaps my friend and the girl she was helping could come in here when all the kids were in class. This didn't seem quite plausible to me. I thought that there were always at least a few kids out here all the time, since the timing of different classes were staggered. But I thought that maybe my friend could come here when the fewest children were here, and so do the least damage.
Up at the end of the concrete yard was something like a covered walkway, a tunnel-like hallway through the day care building. I saw my old friend Y coming up through the walkway, out onto the concrete yard. She was stumbling and holding onto the right (my right) wall, as if she were drunk. Her shirt was hanging off, exposing a blue, satiny bra with lace trim. She had long, long hair. Mascara smears trailed down from her eyes.
The daycare teacher, walking at my right side, spoke to me. (She now seemed a lot taller than I.) She told me I couldn't bring my friend into the daycare because there were no adults allowed. I already felt ashamed for even having asked. But the daycare teacher told me that, instead of worrying about my friend, maybe I could occupy myself by taking care of one of my other friends.
Just like I may have been a child supervisor, this other friend of mine may also have been a child supervisor. But she was in a wheelchair and she needed a lot of assistance in taking care of herself.
My wheelchair friend was suddenly before my teacher and I. My wheelchair friend was blonde, maybe about my age or a little older, though her face may have been a little round and chubby, like a baby's.
The daycare teacher had kept walking forward, possibly saying that she had to go take care of some other kids. I took hold of my friend's wheelchair and turned it in a beeline, heading back toward some place, possibly toward some room where I could take care of my friend.
I was now in some big room. It was like a library in a mansion, with heavy, dark wood walls. But it seemed to be almost completely empty of furniture.
Some time had probably passed. I was laying on the top bunk of some extremely tall bunk bed. I knew my wheelchair friend was somewhere down below me, maybe sleeping on the bottom bunk. We had both either slept or had gotten ready to go to sleep for the night. But now I felt the need to make sure that something was okay for my friend.
So I (flew? floated?) down to the floor of this enormous, heavy-wood-walled room. I landed on some gigantic Persian rug. I could tell that my friend had left the room. The door to the room was probably cracked open.
I knew my friend would come back. She'd just had to take care of something for herself. But I was a little disappointed to know that she had gone off to take care of something for herself, when I was supposed to be the one caring for her.
I looked down at myself to see that I was wearing nothing but a huge diaper. I was surprised to be wearing a diaper, even though I think I liked it. I think I was excited to show my friend that I was wearing a diaper. I think my friend was also wearing a diaper. I felt like both of us wearing diapers would make us both adult babies. So we'd have something in common!
I started to pee in my diaper. I kept peeing and peeing. I didn't know whether this diaper would hold as much pee as I seemed to be giving out. But I just kept going and going, hoping I could stop myself if I started to leak.
But I finally stopped peeing. My diaper hadn't leaked, though it was really, really full. I couldn't see my diaper, for some reason. But I knew it was probably huge and soggy. I could feel it really huge between my legs as I waddle-walked around in it.
I couldn't wait to show my friend how much I'd pottied in my diaper! I thought she'd be really turned on, or at least impressed, by how full my diaper was.
But then I suddenly wondered: did I mess something up? Did I somehow turn the tables around through some incompetence of mine? It seemed like I was now thinking of my friend as my caretaker, instead of as myself as my friend's caretaker. I was definitely looking forward to my friend changing my diaper, for instance. But I was also disappointed in myself for making myself so I was the one in need of care. I hoped my friend wouldn't also be disappointed in me.
I imagined my friend coming back into the room as a tall, blonde, beautiful business woman in her early to mid forties. I imagined her wearing a cream-colored, button-up blouse and a long, thick-fabric, brown skirt.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
stormy beach stalker; spitting on trees; lobotomy girl
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
It was an electric grey day, with dark, low hanging clouds in the sky. I was out on a long, straight road in some residential neighborhood, possibly like Far Rockaway. The street was wide, with big, grassy medians running down it. I was heading to a beach at the end of this long street.
I walked along some sidewalk on the left side of the street. The sidewalk had scaffolding maybe seven or eight meters tall built over it like a tunnel. I wasn't quite in the tunnel of scaffolding, I think, even though I could see into it.
Hanging out in the scaffolding tunnel was a tall man with dark brown skin and frizzy, golden-red-brown hair done in small, fro-like spikes. The man wore a white adidas jacket with green stipes running down the sides of the sleeves.
The man had at first been laying in the scaffolding tunnel. But when he saw me he started, like he was going to harass me if I passed him. I decided to get as far away from the tunnel as I could. I crossed over to the right side of the street, on the other side of the grassy medians.
The man followed me. But I had managed to get moved across the street quickly while he was still getting up. So he was a good distance behind me. I thought that if I could just get to the beach I'd be safe.
But now I saw down the street, about two blocks away -- about two hundred meters away -- a man in a wheelchair. He was white, kind of overweight, and he had a bald crown with long, white hair on the sides and a long, white beard. He wore black clothes and black sunglasses. He may also have worn a vest or jacket that somehow indicated he'd been in the Vietnam War. He seemed to be using a motorized wheelchair.
The man at first seemed to be all by himself, just rolling around in his motorized wheelchair in the middle of the street. But then there was another person with him, someone who may have looked like the man who was following me.
I realized that perhaps that the man who was following me from behind was in league with the man in the wheelchair and his friend. Somehow news had been passed along that I was walking down this street. Now there were a bunch of guys out on the street, getting ready to follow me around. I was under suspicion of something by some group. So whenever I passed within range of that group, I would be followed by its members.
I managed to pass the man in the wheelchair easily. But the man in the white jacket was still following me. He seemed to be walking even more quickly now.
But I was much closer to the beach. The street ended in something like a culdesac. A short concrete path ran between the houses at the end of the culdesac. The beach was on the other side of that culdesac.
But the man seemed to be closing in on me. I thought he was planning to attack me on the concrete path, where fewer people could see me. So when I got to the concrete path, I actually ran across it, getting onto the beach as soon as I could.
Out on the beach, the clouds were even heavier. There was also a bit of a breeze. But there were also a decent amount of people out on the beach. It mostly seemed like mothers and their little daughters. They all seemed to be up at the back of the beach, instead of out near the water.
The man hurried out onto the beach. But when he saw the other people out there, he stopped running. He was standing right by a group of a couple of mothers and daughters. He didn't see me for a moment. He looked left and right.
I turned and stared directly at the man. I knew something about my stare would alert the mothers to the fact that I knew this guy was stalking me. The mothers took some sort of unspoken attitude toward the man. The man began to feel that he was in a bad environment for pursuing me. So he acted like he wasn't concerned with me. He turned off to the left and began walking away.
I turned off to the right and began walking in the other direction. It seemed like, in my direction, there were no people at all.
Dream #2
I was walking down a number of sidewalks in a suburban, but really busy, area. There were trees along a lot of curbs. I had the task of spitting on the trees. I had to spit on the trees right at their bases, where the root ground pushes above the ground. Something about my doing this would benefit the trees.
In some instances I got really close to the trees as I spat on them. This was just because the trees were close. But I wondered if spitting on the trees from so close was beneficial. I thought I might have to spit from farther away.
But later I was walking up some kind of slope. There were a lot of cars all around. It seemed to be late afternoon, in cool, grey-blue light, just after the sun had set. I was on the corner of some street with a parking lot for some small office complex.
On the corner of the block was a big tree. But the way the sidewalk and tree were set into the curb and relative to each other, I had no other choice but to spit on the tree from a far distance. I wondered if that would help the tree or be bad for it.
I also may have begun to wonder whether people would think I was being really gross and inappropriate for walking all over town, spitting on trees. I myself may have wondered whether I was really doing something good, or whether I had actually just decided at some point earlier on to be lewd by spitting on every tree I passed.
Dream #3
The face of a woman took up almost my entire field of view. The woman was young, with fair, white skin and brown hair. She had pale, blue eyes, which were open very wide.
Some man out of my view, either myself or some other man, spoke to the woman. I could hear the man's voice, but it was like I was hearing it through plugged up ears, like when I have a really bad head cold.
The man asked the woman if she thought that her getting a lobotomy was a good idea. The woman said, "Yes."
Dream #1
It was an electric grey day, with dark, low hanging clouds in the sky. I was out on a long, straight road in some residential neighborhood, possibly like Far Rockaway. The street was wide, with big, grassy medians running down it. I was heading to a beach at the end of this long street.
I walked along some sidewalk on the left side of the street. The sidewalk had scaffolding maybe seven or eight meters tall built over it like a tunnel. I wasn't quite in the tunnel of scaffolding, I think, even though I could see into it.
Hanging out in the scaffolding tunnel was a tall man with dark brown skin and frizzy, golden-red-brown hair done in small, fro-like spikes. The man wore a white adidas jacket with green stipes running down the sides of the sleeves.
The man had at first been laying in the scaffolding tunnel. But when he saw me he started, like he was going to harass me if I passed him. I decided to get as far away from the tunnel as I could. I crossed over to the right side of the street, on the other side of the grassy medians.
The man followed me. But I had managed to get moved across the street quickly while he was still getting up. So he was a good distance behind me. I thought that if I could just get to the beach I'd be safe.
But now I saw down the street, about two blocks away -- about two hundred meters away -- a man in a wheelchair. He was white, kind of overweight, and he had a bald crown with long, white hair on the sides and a long, white beard. He wore black clothes and black sunglasses. He may also have worn a vest or jacket that somehow indicated he'd been in the Vietnam War. He seemed to be using a motorized wheelchair.
The man at first seemed to be all by himself, just rolling around in his motorized wheelchair in the middle of the street. But then there was another person with him, someone who may have looked like the man who was following me.
I realized that perhaps that the man who was following me from behind was in league with the man in the wheelchair and his friend. Somehow news had been passed along that I was walking down this street. Now there were a bunch of guys out on the street, getting ready to follow me around. I was under suspicion of something by some group. So whenever I passed within range of that group, I would be followed by its members.
I managed to pass the man in the wheelchair easily. But the man in the white jacket was still following me. He seemed to be walking even more quickly now.
But I was much closer to the beach. The street ended in something like a culdesac. A short concrete path ran between the houses at the end of the culdesac. The beach was on the other side of that culdesac.
But the man seemed to be closing in on me. I thought he was planning to attack me on the concrete path, where fewer people could see me. So when I got to the concrete path, I actually ran across it, getting onto the beach as soon as I could.
Out on the beach, the clouds were even heavier. There was also a bit of a breeze. But there were also a decent amount of people out on the beach. It mostly seemed like mothers and their little daughters. They all seemed to be up at the back of the beach, instead of out near the water.
The man hurried out onto the beach. But when he saw the other people out there, he stopped running. He was standing right by a group of a couple of mothers and daughters. He didn't see me for a moment. He looked left and right.
I turned and stared directly at the man. I knew something about my stare would alert the mothers to the fact that I knew this guy was stalking me. The mothers took some sort of unspoken attitude toward the man. The man began to feel that he was in a bad environment for pursuing me. So he acted like he wasn't concerned with me. He turned off to the left and began walking away.
I turned off to the right and began walking in the other direction. It seemed like, in my direction, there were no people at all.
Dream #2
I was walking down a number of sidewalks in a suburban, but really busy, area. There were trees along a lot of curbs. I had the task of spitting on the trees. I had to spit on the trees right at their bases, where the root ground pushes above the ground. Something about my doing this would benefit the trees.
In some instances I got really close to the trees as I spat on them. This was just because the trees were close. But I wondered if spitting on the trees from so close was beneficial. I thought I might have to spit from farther away.
But later I was walking up some kind of slope. There were a lot of cars all around. It seemed to be late afternoon, in cool, grey-blue light, just after the sun had set. I was on the corner of some street with a parking lot for some small office complex.
On the corner of the block was a big tree. But the way the sidewalk and tree were set into the curb and relative to each other, I had no other choice but to spit on the tree from a far distance. I wondered if that would help the tree or be bad for it.
I also may have begun to wonder whether people would think I was being really gross and inappropriate for walking all over town, spitting on trees. I myself may have wondered whether I was really doing something good, or whether I had actually just decided at some point earlier on to be lewd by spitting on every tree I passed.
Dream #3
The face of a woman took up almost my entire field of view. The woman was young, with fair, white skin and brown hair. She had pale, blue eyes, which were open very wide.
Some man out of my view, either myself or some other man, spoke to the woman. I could hear the man's voice, but it was like I was hearing it through plugged up ears, like when I have a really bad head cold.
The man asked the woman if she thought that her getting a lobotomy was a good idea. The woman said, "Yes."
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