Morning of February 12, 2014. Wednesday.
This dream was somewhat precognitive in that a very large and imposing suspicious frame appeared on one of the dream-based websites I visit. It implied how you could preserve your anonymity by signing your name to a petition - and I wonder if people would do this or use an alias. Are there really people that shortsighted on this planet? Okay…preserve your anonymity by…signing your name… I cannot even think of anything more ridiculous or stupid than that right now, but it does not surprise me at all. At any rate, I attempted to block the frame - did not work, so I blocked the site, the URL and code of which looked suspicious. It also jammed up my computer before I blocked it.
In this dream my sister Marilyn has already passed on. I would not call this fully precognitive as I already had a precognitive dream which told me a lot of what was going on before I learned of her illness (cancer), although a brother claimed she would not live another day (though she did).
In me dream, it seems unusual how more and more people I knew were having issues (one of my friends seems to appear about twenty years older than me even though we are the same age). Even my best friend Toby T just had a more extensive heart attack (and is in the hospital - I will be updated on this later), which I learned of the same day a brother told me my sister would not make it another day. On this same day, I also learned that a female classmate around my age (born the same year) had died back in 2008.
I must point out honestly that there has always been a strange unexplainable “link” (by association in a deeply personal sense) between older sister Marilyn and Toby T. Even though Toby is male and around my age and my sister Marilyn is much older (she has a different father than I) and they never knew each other or met (other than Marilyn hearing Toby’s voice on a cassette tape a few times) - they often reminded me of “being the same person” in some ways and there was a lot of synchronicity from my own frame of reference. I am not trying to be negative, sarcastic, or mean at all - but I always got an unusual feeling from sister Marilyn as if there was somehow a link to a jovial teenage boy in her subconscious somewhere - she was very easy to get along with throughout my life and a great sister in general. Other than my parents, Toby and sister Marilyn (and presently my wife and children of course) were my closest companions in different parts of my life. My dreams I had about Toby when I had not seen him for years turned out to be incredibly detailed in a precognitive sense - almost as if I was with him at certain times. This is true about most people though. I had precognitive dreams about most of my relatives passing away, and even a brother that died seemed to know himself, as he put together all the musical works of my father and sent them out (one to me) and some of his own work and others in my family only a very short time before his death - and this was not from a growing illness but an unexpected medical problem. (My own highly unusual medical conditions were specifically dreamt of but many years before they unfolded).
At any rate, in my dream, my brother-in-law Bob (full first name Robert) is going through the house working out what to do with everything. There is, strangely, a small wooden white crib that is being dismantled. I wonder why he does not mention giving it to me. In the back of my mind, I am thinking my wife and I have a baby, but she is older (about a year old - and running around and climbing everywhere and getting into things, so requires more attention than usual in reality - in my experience much older fathers produce extraordinarily - even “impossibly” - intelligent children - contrary to very suspicious myths promoted by the media - and I am fairly certain I know why they do this) and perhaps I should not say anything out of respect. Sister Marilyn never had children but did do a lot of baby-sitting even when much older, once taking care of a boy who had been temporarily abandoned by his mother, but thoughtlessly “reclaimed” later. (Another sister, on my father’s side, is a published author and widely known for having done the most work with orphaned and problematic children in her home - has even succeeded in changing laws regarding how social services operates on some levels).
I get the impression that the crib is being dismantled because there is no hope of having children as a couple now - however - I more realistically believe it is a play on “cradle to grave”. That is, the “cradle is being dismantled” as the grave now approaches - a bit macabre, but that meaning seems likely.
My brother-in-law is talking for about ten minutes. I feel unusual being in the house. My mother is gone, my father had gone several years previously, my sister is gone (in my dream, and likely soon in real life according to what I have heard), Toby in trouble, and my dream itself is seeming “empty” in some ways. There is a brief appearance by sister Carol who tells me of Marilyn’s death, but she had already died - so this is an odd alteration of reality.
The person he is talking to is a female, but unknown. He is saying how he will be going under a large number of aliases, which seems unusual (he cannot read or write in real life - but most of his work involved “deburring” parts for military vehicles as well as industrial equipment). I am not sure what his plan is - perhaps to get money from various businesses thinking they are communicating with several people at once, but I also somehow sense this will cause him to have too many different bills for exactly the same thing under his different names, which he does not seem to mind. It may also be to get “a loan” under different aliases - likely a play on “alone”.
He talks about a number of “R” names that he will be using for various claims on mail in a short time, and the girl is making a note of it. She is writing on a large notepad and seems to already have a stack of letters from somewhere. At least a couple of the letters are related to some sort of petition relating to privacy (the usual composite precognition I often get up to several times in one dream on a day to day basis - in this case, the warning about the next day’s online petition frame, my sister being in a worse condition, and a few otherwise unrelated minor facets jammed into one seemingly related continuity as so often happens in dreams from day to day) as well as some overdue bills and possibly business models and donation requests. This does not specifically relate to addresses but somehow any letter that goes through the mail with certain names (similar to the “general delivery” model used by some rural post offices in the past). He does not mention last name aliases, so that seems a bit unusual in afterthought. He is also going to use his real name as well as such as “Richard” (which stands out the most - he had a brother by that name who passed away) and apparently “Raymond”, “Reuben”, “Rodney”, and others. I am not sure why his aliases are only going to be “R” names.
“Ronald? Or is that too much like McDonald?” I suggest.
There is a short pause, and my brother-in-law says calmly, “Yeah…” (he agrees) and goes out the front door respectfully. I feel slightly regretful (and slightly foolish over the name recommendation) at not giving him additional viable names. (The audio in this dream is very clear and focused throughout though I am not lucid. I have rarely ever been to McDonald’s - or KFC with their dry and bland cardboard-flavored food in my lifetime - and that was almost always when with others who were paying.)
This is telling me he is taking on the role of many other people and “carrying the weight of grief” under many different “faces” of his past - yet he would not use the clown’s name (Ronald McDonald - implied) because of the solely serious and mournful nature of his near future
Updated 09-30-2015 at 04:35 PM by 1390
1) A minister prayed for me and black goo came out of my hands and vanished. I felt cleansed and at peace. Then my bro in law, A, was suspect. We convinced him and his wife. She said ew get it out. The minister said I had to do it but I didn't believe. in myself enough. It was only partial and he saw paralyzed with fear as the black goo ran from his hands.
* religious dreams have a deeper meaning to me. This dream was about some negative emotions and stress at my job. It is up to me to have a different attitude.
2) My wife kids and I were at an annual carnival. it was huge this year with rides. I think my wife is pregnant and she can't ride. I felt bad for her. I see my ex and her mom. oh great look who it is. I wonder around looking for addmission prices. A security guard stops me and tells me I can't cut in line. I tell him I. just want to know admission prices. He says he's doesn't know. I ask him why he's such an ass? He says alright fine its $2.
* Both dreams very vivid and deatailed. I left details out because of time.
Good morning, everybody.
I thought I'd share the passage below, since it relates to both dreaming and New Year's Eve. The passage is from Charles Dickens' story "The Chimes."
The plot device of "The Chimes" is similar to that of "A Christmas Carol": a ghost leads a man, Toby Veck, into the future, so that he can see the effects of the choices he makes in the present. The effects are terrible. So Toby mends his ways and lives happily ever after.
This quote comes from the end of the book.
"Had Trotty dreamed? Or, are his joys and sorrows, and the actors in them, but a dream; himself a dream; the teller of this tale a dreamer, waking but now? If it be so, O listener, dear to him in all his visions, try to bear in mind the stern realities from which these shadows come; and in your sphere, none is too wide, and none too limited for such an end -- endeavour to correct, improve, and soften them. So may the New Year be a happy one to you, happy to many more whose happiness depends on you! So may each year be happier than the last, and not the meanest of our brethren or sisterhood debarred their rightful share, in what our Great Creator formed them to enjoy."
I was in a laundromat which may have been a part of a department store or a K-Mart. I was at the far end of one of the aisles of machines. I think the machines were dryers, though they looked like washers. There were laundry carts cluttering all the way up the aisle.
Two guys were also in the aisle. I felt like they were my friends. They may also have been working at the laundromat. They were talking to each other without really regarding me. They were talking about some guy, who I eventually realized was me.
The guys were talking about how the guy was really conceited. They said that you could never tell this guy anything. And he'd never admit he was wrong. It made the atmosphere tense around him all the time. But he wasn't really so impressive that he should make people feel that way.
I thought, Wow. Is that really the way people feel about me? I realized I should really start watching how I act toward people. I thought I'd start right away, by treating my two friends nicely. I may have tried to say something nice to my friends.
But now I was suddenly sitting at a desk outside the aisles of laundry machines. I was looking at my phone. I was texting back and forth between my sister and my friend H.
I think I was just having a normal conversation with H. But my sister had gone into the hospital for something. So I was texting with her to find out how everything had gone.
But somebody, either H or my sister, was sitting at the near end of another aisle of laundry machines off to my right. The person was sitting with another couple of people, probably kids. They were all on the floor, maybe buried in coats.
I hadn't heard from my sister in a while. I wasn't getting worried about her health, necessarily. But I was worried that I'd said something to offend her, so that she'd stopped texting me and now wouldn't let me know if things were okay.
But I now got a text from my sister. It said something like, "Well, the doctor sent me and J (my brother-in-law) over to the pharmacy. So when I get my stuff from the pharmacy I'll be able to tell you what my problem was."
It was like the doctor knew the problem, but didn't tell my sister what it was. So my sister had to infer the problem from whatever kind of medicine she got.
The text did, however, seem to have a bit of a feeling of annoyance with me. So I tried to think of how I could be less annoying.
At the same time that I read the text, the person sitting on the floor off to my right was also speaking to me. It was like my sister was right there, telling me everything she had texted me.
Good morning, everybody.
Happy holidays! The icy Dream Views logo is really fun. And the Santa Claus flying through the moon is cool, too.
It was night. I was either getting into or out of a car with my sister and my brother-in-law. The car was probably my sister's. It was a kind of short car, and it was packed all around by some bigger SUVs.
My sister was drunk, but she was trying to act like she wasn't. She was trying to act nice for my sake.
We now all got out of the car. The parking lot the car was in was in some downtown-like area. There was a really big, ominous-looking, tan-brick building right at the edge of the lot.
We walked out to the road, which felt very old and run-down. This place was like one of those downtowns that shut down completely at night. We were all alone here. The streetlights seemed like in a horror movie -- the light was all grainy, almost sepia-colored.
My sister was now not able to control her drunken appearance at all. She even asked, "Hey, isn't there some place we could pick up some booze?"
I knew there was a store somewhere -- maybe even just across the street and around the corner. I could even see the store, still open, like a chain drug store, its greenish fluorescent lights shining out through a window-wall in a stately, stone building.
But I figured I'd do what I could to keep us from going to that store. I think my brother-in-law felt the same way.
Somehow we decided we needed to go to the bathroom. I knew where there was a free public bathroom. We walked off to our right, toward some park-like area, then along a nice, stone walkway.
The light was just becoming blue with early morning, and there were already tourists out here -- it mostly looked like mothers and daughters.
We went to some area that looked like a fast food restaurant. It had the same color scheme as Dunkin Donuts, but with a lot more brown. And it was shaped like a wide, low public restroom in a park.
I knew that this bathroom had either been sponsored by the restaurant or was the restaurant itself. I probably thought the restaurant was McDonald's or Burger King. I think the restaurant itself was closed, but that the bathroom was always open.
I think we first walked through the restaurant's seating area, which was huge, but completely empty of people. I think we then walked through a concrete-floored, cinder-block-walled hallway that felt like it was a bridge over a road, between two buildings.
The three of us were now in the bathroom, which was a wide, concrete-floored, cinder-block-walled bathroom, like a really nice public bathroom in a park. But it may have had a Dunkin Donuts color scheme.
My sister was still drunk -- kind of wandering around randomly. But I myself was now really distracted. Eventually I decided I needed to use the bathroom. I went to a stall, so I could take a crap.
But I was having trouble closing the stall's door. It wouldn't stay closed. I was also trying to close it by twisting the little doorknob using a huge, wadded up piece of toilet paper. It was like I was afraid to touch anything in the restroom. So I was protecting my hands with toilet paper. But it was really hard to do anything with the amount of toilet paper I had in my hands.
Then, at some point, I felt some kind of erotic feeling. It related to the feeling of taking a crap. I thought I was going to do something really bad and gross in the stall. And it turned me on sexually. But I didn't want to get caught doing it.
Then a mother and daughter came into the restroom. I was kind of annoyed. I knew that if a couple of tourists were coming in, then that meant that a whole bunch of people would soon be coming into the bathroom. Everybody would know I was here, and they'd all start harrassing me. So I might as well leave now.
I might have walked back out of the stall, passed the mother and daughter, found my brother-in-law and sister, and walked back out into the long corridor.
It was a nice, sunny day. I was probably in the backyard of the house where my family lived while I was in high school. But the backyard was now three or four times as big as it was IWL, and it was filled with flowers. It was an incredibly huge, English-style garden! Where our garage had been, there was some big, shady kind of pagoda-like structure made of greyish, dark wood.
There were some little kids running around and playing in the garden. I thought of these kids as something like my friends or siblings. They were all angelically beautiful, like the golden-haired children of storybooks. I feel like they were all involved in some task. But I can't remember what it was.
My attention was caught by the huge, stalk-like plants near me. I couldn't put a name to them. They seem, now, to have looked like hollyhocks or foxgloves. But they weren't those flowers, either -- I'm pretty sure. They had a kind of fuzzy look. And some of them had bud-like centers: tight, green bulbs, inside a collar of thin, peach petals.
I was suddenly laying on my back. Our old dog, a cocker spaniel, was standing over me, vigorously licking, or "kissing," my lips. She was actually licking off a bunch of honey that I had on my lips.
Some voice in the distance (or in my head?), probably a child's voice, asked me either if my dog liked honey, or if my dog liked to kiss me.
Whatever the question was, I answered, "No, she's just getting the honey off my lips. She's really excited to go traveling. She loves to go places in the car. In fact, when she ----- (can't remember) -----, we'll probably get a nice car for her. Then she'll be happy to go!"
I now had an image in my head of a white, horse-drawn carriage, like a nineteenth century carriage. But the carriage was very short, proportioned, it seemed, to fit small children or dogs. And there was no top to the cabin of the carriage. It was flat and open, kind of looking like an ornate, white Radio Flyer wagon.
A man in a suit and top-hat sat in a small front area and drove the carriage. He may also have been holding a white, lace parasol.
I could see that there was a main seating area: a small square. But there was also a smaller, back rectangle, which, I now guess, could normally be used for luggage.
But I guess my dog was now dead, because she was stiff and motionless, and we had laid her in the back area, as if it were some kind of coffin for her, or a space that would have fit a coffin for her.
But I'm pretty sure the carriage wasn't taking my dog to a funeral, but to a wedding. And I may have been a part of the wedding. This was probably whatever I'd been referring to when I'd spoken to the voice. But I'm pretty sure this image didn't have anything to do with what I'd actually said.
I was in some kind of huge place, something like an old, French palace, mixed with a museum, mixed with an old, run-down, slummy apartment. The place was filled with all kinds of clutter -- boxes, junk, all over the place.
There were no lights on, and it was night. The only light coming into the place was extremely dim, orange light from the streetlamps outside.
There were a few other men in the structure with me. They were all in one room. The place was huge, but we were all sitting in just one room, which had a bunk bed and a computer desk in it, but which was so filled with junk that we could hardly fit ourselves into the room.
The men may have been Latino, and they may have spoken very little English. They seemed to be in their late thirties or early forties. They were short, a little overweight, and a little tough-seeming.
The men were being nice or indifferent to me. But I had a feeling that, as time wore on, they'd probably start annoying or harrassing me.
My mom now came into the room. I was happy just to have someone familiar to me in this environment. It kind of diluted the bad emotional sense I was beginning to get from these guys.
My mom looked a bit different. She was skinnier, and she had shorter hair. She sent me off to some other room. She told me that we were both getting up early tomorrow morning to take care of some task. She stressed the importance of getting up on time.
I was excited about the event. And even though it was already late, and that I wouldn't get very much sleep at all if I wanted to get up on time, I was really happy and determined to get up on time.
I lay down in bed and closed my eyes. Almost immediately, I re-opened them. I realized that I had woken up an hour late!
I ran out into the hallway to find my mom. It couldn't be true, could it? Had I overslept for the thing I was so excited for?
My mom was at the other end of the hallway. She said, "Yep, you overslept. But I wasn't going to wake you up."
I could tell my mom was disappointed in me. I felt horrible. But my mom now said something like, "Hurry up. If you just get your shit together and get out the door right now, we can still probably make it on time."
I was back in the room with the Latino men. Some of them were sleeping on the bunk bed. One was still up, sitting at the computer desk. The light was still dark. It was still very early morning, before sunrise.
I crouched before the bunkbed and began arranging something on the cuff of my right shirt sleeve for some reason. It was like I was peeling back my cuff and then twisting it back and forth. It felt like I was trying to put some kind of steel band around my wrist.
But I realized that I was just wasting my time doing this. My mom was probably out in the car, waiting for me. If I didn't hurry up, my mom would either leave me, or else she'd wait for me and we'd both be too late to make it to our task.
I stood up to get my shit together and go downstairs. But I was so unfocused. I really couldn't remember what the hell I needed to do. I didn't really know what I needed in order to get the hell out of here. And the Latino men didn't help. It was just like they were waiting for an excuse to distract me.
I now found myself in a car, an old, clunky station wagon, like the one I drove IWL when I lived out in the desert for a couple of years, working for the Park Service. The car was inside -- in one of the rooms of the house. I sat in the driver's seat. One of the Latino men stood just outside the door, looking in.
The car only had AM radio (IDL and IWL ). I had a plastic tub -- like the plastic tubs you get for various purposes during hospital stays -- filled with little, plastic knobs, each about 2cm in diameter. I had to put all of these plastic knobs onto various parts of the radio's face. Only after that would my shit be together enough so that I could leave.
But I couldn't fit all of these knobs onto the radio face! I think I managed to find ways to fit some of them onto the volume and tuning knobs. I also popped some of them onto the set-station buttons. And I may have tried to stick some onto the actual station indicator plate. But I was running out of space. And I had a ton of knobs left!
I was now by myself in a large hallway, probably inside an apartment. It was night, and the hallway was pretty dark.
I stood near the front door. The door was made of old, worn-out wood. I could feel something like a gentle wind whispering past the door. I knew it was some kind of presence. I partly thought it was a ghost. But I also thought it was some person -- or, a person coming, not a person who was actually there yet.
I knew that I was still a bit early. But as long as I kept aware of the situation, I'd see the person. Then I could meet the person just outside the apartment. I may actually have just thought of this person as only a breeze of wind.
I was now looking out through my door through a small, square window that was maybe 30cm directly above the doorknob. Looking out, I saw the dark sapphire sky of morning. I could see that out there was something like a brambly yard, which may have been something like a big, nice garden.
I was telling myself something very soothing, like the person who was coming to me was a very nice person, and that I had nothing to worry about or be afraid of.
I watched one or two people crossing my field of view. They were walking along some path, I think, that crossed between the garden and some much wider field. They were a man and a woman. A man may also later have crossed by himself.
I told myself, "See? See how nice they are? When they come for you, they'll treat you nicely. You have nothing to fear."
I was now outside. It was a bright, sunny morning. I was drifting up a very, very slight slope, on a long, wide lawn that led up to a sidewalk and an asphalt road.
I saw a man and a woman walking along the road, heading from the right to the left side of my field of view. The man and woman both looked like they were in their late thirties. But they wore clothes and had hairstyles like from the late 1970s. The man's hairstyle was particularly chunky and bowl-shaped.
The man and the woman seemed to be in a kind of peevish argument with each other. It scared me a little bit. I felt like if I got into their field of influence, they'd probably start getting all peevish and annoying with me.
But they were walking pretty quickly. And they were already away from me by the time I got up to the sidewalk.
Now that I was on the sidewalk, I noticed a few handfuls of people, all adults, walking toward a building. I realized that I was near a university campus.
The campus neighborhood reminds me now of my occasional visits to the Princeton campus. But the university building, which I saw off to my left, looked more like an elementary school mixed with a modern, suburban church building.
All the people walking toward the building seemed to be in their thirties and forties. There were men and women. Sometimes people were in groups, talking with each other. Other times they were walking alone.
Some of the people wore suits or formal attire. Others were wearing caps and gowns, like they were attending a graduation ceremony.
I also noticed that a lot of the women had very masculine faces. Some of the women were definitely women, just with very hard, squarish faces. But some of the people dressed as women may have been men.
As I got to the actual building, I realized that it was more like an elementary school. The adults I'd seen funnelling toward this area were actually teachers. They were all now dispersing toward different parts of the building: to their classrooms, I assumed.
I was in a square, concrete-floored courtyard of the building. There were a lot of kids running all about, rushing, I supposed, to get to their classes.
There were some adult women posted here and there, apparently to make sure that nobody was getting out of hand. I figured I'd ask one of these women either where I was, or where I was supposed to be. I didn't really know the answer to either of those questions.
I saw a woman posted just under the covering of the building, at the back, right corner of the courtyard. I figured I'd approach her and ask her what I was here for.
As I walked toward that woman, a girl wearing a pale pink sweater ran through the courtyard with a clear, plastic bottle of water.
One of the other women admonished the girl for some reason or another. The girl thought she was being really grown-up and helpful for doing something. But she was also using her task to avoid having to do some thing that all the girls her age needed to do. She knew this. So when the teacher admonished her, she listened.
But as I was about to reach the woman, some kind of alarm went off. The alarm was the prayer bell. Wherever you were, whatever you were doing, when the prayer bell went off, you had to stop, crouch down on your knees, bow your head to the ground, and start praying to god.
The ritual seems to me now to be Islam-influenced. But the prayer was more like a Christian prayer mixed with something like the United States Pledge of Allegiance.
I bowed, too, because I at least knew what all this meant. I was near a stairwell. A girl wearing a Muslim-style head-covering bowed near me.
As I looked at the floor, I noticed it was tiled in meter-square tiles looking like flecked granite. But this tile was all chipped away in a corner, so that almost a quarter of the tile was chipped into an oily blackness.
During the prayer-pledge, the girl in the pale pink shirt ran out of the doorway of a classroom near me. She had the water bottle again, and she was about to rush off somewhere. But the woman I was trying to approach told the girl to kneel down and pray, like everybody else.
The girl said something like, "Oh, yeah. Right." She didn't kneel down, though. She just sat, in some kind of athletic pose, with her back to the wall, and waited for the prayer to finish.
Something about the girl's face made me think she might have Down's Syndrome. But the girl was really smart and active. I liked her a lot.
When I got up from the prayer-pledge, I approached the adult woman. I had a feeling now that I was here for some kind of volunteer project with New York Cares. So I asked the woman if she knew where we volunteers were meeting. The woman pointed to the stairwell behind me and said that New York Cares was meeting up on the second floor.
But before I could go upstairs, a little girl grabbed my hand and told me to help her with her spelling. She dragged me over to something that looked like folding gym mats stood up on one side and w-folded, to look like a gym-mat version of Chinese screens.
Before the Chinese screen was a long, school-like table that was only 25cm or so above the ground. Both the little girl and I had to kneel to sit at the table. The table had a long sheet of paper across it. The paper was filled with items like multiple choice questions.
For each number, there may possibly have been questions, probably ridiculously inane questions, like, "How do you spell -----?" as if a kid wouldn't know how to spell a word he was looking right at. But there were no answers in the multiple choice spaces. It was just A, B, C, D, with no answers beside the letters!
I think what the little girl actually had to do was choose the correct letter, A, B, C, or D, and then correctly spell the word in the space beside that letter. I think the little girl may actually have explained this to me herself.
The little girl was probably learning impaired. But she seemed really smart, as well. She seemed to be doing well enough spelling for herself. And maybe she just wanted me around for the heck of it while she was doing her work.
But every once in a while I'd have to help her with spelling. At some point, I even chose, and circled?, the letter "C" on one of her questions. I also remember something about one of us writing in cursive.
Then the little girl's brother came up. He was also, apparently, learning impaired, though not as much as his sister. He may have been a bit younger than the girl. He was climbing all over both me and the little girl, though he mostly seemed to be climbing all over me. He really wanted my attention, and he wanted to prove, I think, that he was smarter than his sister.
At some point I stood up, as if my lessons for the little girl and boy were over. I told them they'd both done a good job.
But the boy wanted to see my cell phone for some reason. I was pretty sure that that was not a good idea, because I think I'd been looking on some sort of fetish website before I'd come here. The boy didn't need to be seeing any of that kind of stuff.
I then saw my phones screen, as if it were flickering on, like a TV would, with a bit of vertical hold striping a black screen, as the TV is getting started up and getting a hold of itself. The striping was yellow -- so it seemed to me that this was "effect" for a production, not real vertical hold striping.
There was then, probably, some kind of video, maybe starring Hyde from the j-pop band L'Arc en Ciel. But I can't remember anything about it.
Good morning, everybody.
I was in a car with my sister. We were out in the driveway of her house, although it feels now like we were also in some kind of dirt parking lot for a fairgrounds. My sister was talking to me about and showing me some kind of pictures of a place that she and some of her children were planning to go to.
I had to go to some other car to get something for my sister's trip. I went to the other car with my brother-in-law. It was a few rows away in the dirt parking lot.
The trunk or hatchback of the car was open, and my brother-in-law and I were looking inside. I had my computer opened up in the back of the car. I asked my brother-in-law to look up something on YouTube. It had to do with some pop-culture figure or figures, but it also had something to do with homosexuality.
My brother-in-law looked the thing up. I was now walking away from the car. I was now worried that somehow my brother-in-law would think I was trying to make some comment on my own sexuality by showing him that YouTube clip. (In waking life, even though I wouldn't say I'm gay, my sexuality is absolutely not normal. But I try to act as normal as possible when I'm in front of my family.)
I was back to sitting in the car with my sister. My sister now said that she was too sick, after all, to go to the event. For some reason, the whole family was now going, instead of just my sister, brother-in-law, and some of their kids. I was also going. Now only my sister wasn't going.
I felt bad, like maybe we shouldn't go at all if my sister wasn't going.
There may have been some situation where I had to take care of some task for a group of professionals. But I had messed it up somehow.
Later on, I was running from zombies. The zombies were pale white, with rotting faces. Most of the zombies wore button-up shirts, ties, and slacks.
I was running from the zombies through big corridors like mall-sized corridors that looked like hallways in a hospital. Everything was white, lit with greenish-white fluorescent light. Occasionally I would find myself in larger rooms.
Zombies would pop up everywhere and surprise me. They would almost catch me, and then they'd chase me through the corridors. I may also have been shooting some of them with a gun I had.
Eventually I found some way to jump way high, up to some high-up window. The window was swung open from its top. I floated down through the space. I found myself in some greenish-white-lit place that looked like a mix between a bowling alley and a hospital.
From all different places, a bunch of normal humans came into the bowling alley. Many of them were carrying guns. Some of them were wearing what I thought of as hunters' outfits -- beige vests and caps, flannel shirts, and khaki-like slacks. Many of the people were wary, on guard, waiting for more zombies to just spring up.
I was about to go to all the people. I thought I had found a group of people that I could be safe with. But as I approached them, they became suspicious of me, almost violent toward me. It was obvious that I wasn't a zombie, just like it was obvious that they weren't zombies. But they didn't care. They just didn't like me, and they didn't want me around.
So I walked away from them before even approaching them. I may have started walking down one of the bowling lanes, thinking I'd find a sneaky way to get through the building at the end of the lanes.
Suddenly I was fighting something, possibly zombies. There were gunshots everywhere. Explosions were blowing up the wood of the bowling lanes. I was turning back and shooting at whatever I was fighting.