maboroshi

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I may have been in an airport. Near me was a black man who may either have been a friend or an acquaintance. He was kind of tall and kind of strong looking. He had long, wavy, brown hair that almost looked like a wig. He also had a long, black beard. He wore black sunglasses, a black, denim jacket and no shirt, and probably blue or black jeans.

The man was in trouble for some reason. Airport security may have thought of him as a terrorist. I hoped security's suspicion of the man wouldn't spread to me. The man and I seemed separated from each other by about ten meters. Near the man was a line of boxes about knee-high.

I was now in the man's house, which was a big mansion. We were in some area like a living room or a sun room. We still stood apart from each other and facing each other, like we'd stood at the airport.

The interior of the mansion was spacious and open. Everything was white, and there were big windows and sliding glass doors everywhere. The man may have been wearing white versions of the clothes he'd worn in the airport as well.

Somewhere was a "library," which the man showed me. It was really just a bookshelf. It was wall-height, maybe three or four meters long, with five or six levels of shelves.

All the books in the "library" looked like they belonged to one edition or came from one publisher. The books were all bound in leather or fake-leather, marbleized-looking covers. The bindings had gold lettering and trim.

There were only three colors of books: blue, red, and green. The three different colors were all grouped together. There were very few blue books: they only took up a portion of the left side of the very top shelf. The red books took up the most space: from where the blue books ended, down to about halfway along the second to last shelf. The green books took the rest of the space.

The man may possibly have showed me "my bedroom," or the guest bedroom, which was, now, also the library. In this library-bedroom there were a bed and a desk, both white. Over the desk was a wall-mounted bookshelf, with the same kind of books as on the previous bookshelf, arranged in a similar fashion.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

There were a number of views of some place, possibly "Virginia." The views were like pans across landscapes. Some of the views may have been still. Others were in motion. The views were possibly supposed to show some kind of unique situation regarding "Virginia." I was frustrated because I never saw any evidence of this unique situation.

There may have been one pan across a residential neighborhood. All the houses were tightly packed together on the blocks, and the area was all set on a series of rolling hills. The colors in this photo may have been almost washed out, close to sepia tone.

The rest of the views all took place in some area that seemed like a city park, even though I also got the impression that it was supposed to be a beach. There was a huge lawn, pretty much flat, dotted pretty closely with thin-trunked, tall trees. At the edge of this park there may actually have been a beach.

One view in this park was of masses of people, packed all close together, lying out on their stomachs, as if they were all out on the beach, getting suntans.

Another view was of masses of birds, packed together (like the last shot in Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds). The view, I understood, was supposed to be of all kinds of exotic birds. But there were very few exotic birds. Right out, I only recognized one parrot. Most of the birds were ducks, seagulls, and pigeons, some of which were deformed or ugly.

It may have been at this point that I became frustrated with this "program." I was supposed to be seeing something unusual in these images -- specifically something unusual that had happened to alter the area. But these were all "normal" images.

The view changed to a view of a crowd of people, still pretty dense, but not packed all together, out on the beach. Among the crowds I saw the head of a big muppet, red, like Animal, walking along. The muppet must have been two meters tall. But it looked like Animal. I then saw a big, blue muppet. Then it seemed like there were a number of muppets in the crowd.

Now, off to the right, in a space of the park empty of people, there came a muppet funeral procession. The procession was very long. At the head of the procession there was something like a float.

The float was like a flat-bed wagon. On top were images of Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy. The images were laying down. They were probably around two meters long, as well. Kermit was wearing a groom's tuxedo, and Miss Piggy was wearing a bride's gown. But both Kermit and Piggy were dead. This was their funeral procession.

Dream #2

I was in a car with my family. I may have been preparing to leave after a visit to my home town. On the way to wherever I was going to be dropped off, we passed a few different McDonald's restaurants. As we passed the restaurants, I had to quickly make an assessment of the roofs.

My brother complained, asking me why we had to do this. He thought it had something to do with me criticizing him or keeping an eye on him, to stop him from doing bad things, as if I thought he was doing bad things.

I tried to explain to my brother that my job was to inspect roofs. McDonald's just had a lot of new roofs put onto all their buildings. So I had to inspect them. And my mom had agreed that we could drive past all the McDonald's on my way to being dropped off.

We passed another McDonald's. I don't know how I saw the roof. But one-third of the roof seemed to be missing. I remarked to myself about something regarding a special compartment being put into the roof.

We passed another McDonald's by going along a road or a stretch of asphalt that ran along the outside perimeter of the back end of the lot around the restaurant. The asphalt of the road was continuous with the asphalt of the lot, connected by a steep, asphalt ramp. The road put our view just over the roof.

We then drove along some road and up a steep hill in something like a residential neighborhood, although something about it all felt a bit artificial. My mom began discussing some new movie that was out. Its main characters were a few old people.

We all started talking about "old people movies," and whether they were good or bad. My mom was angry at me for some reason, and she'd sensed that I liked movies with old people in them. So she said, "Old people movies are made for old people. And if you aren't old, they aren't any good. They're just boring."

We reached the top of the sharp hill up which we'd been driving, and we'd woven our way into some kind of stone maze. My mom now drove up and around a curving road, up to the foot of a huge, stone staircase with a stone gate. Some distance up the stone staircase I saw some bright, yellow image. It may have been a person wearing a bright, yellow robe.

My mom now mellowed down a bit. She said, "Well, old people movies aren't all that bad. There are a couple that I like. And if you go to any old people movie with (my grandma) J, they'll always be interesting. Because she always has something interesting to say about them."

I now had to get out of the car and go up the stairs. I may have opened the back, passenger-side car door. I may have said some kind words to my family, maybe even hugging and kissing one or more of them.

Dream #3

I was leaving a building, probably after some kind of event or some kind of task I'd had to take care of. The building was kind of like a multi-floor school building. But it also felt very classy.

I was on a high floor. I was walking down a staircase to get to the exit. The staircase was wide. It doubled-back at each half-floor and opened out at each floor.

At some point I realized there was a guy following me. He was maybe half a floor up from me, but he kept that distance. Eventually I slowed down my walking. I figured that I would slow down until he caught up with me.

But as I was making this decision, I was already approaching the ground floor. Instead of hearing the guy, I now heard JF, one of my old co-workers. She may have been talking to JS, another one of my old co-workers.

I was now on the ground floor, passing through a big area and walking toward the front door. JF and JS now caught up to me. I could tell by the tone in their voice that they wanted me to include myself in their conversation. So I turned around to get a better view of JF and focus on what she was talking about.

At this point I was past the first door out of the building. There was a small foyer and then another set of doors. At the final set of doors I turned around. JF was just coming through the first doors, still talking with JS.

I may have walked all the way out of the building. But then I may have turned around right as JF was coming through the second doors. But now it was like I was behind her. I don't know where JS was -- perhaps she was outside.

JF started talking about the TV show Dallas. She asked about some key characters. I somehow mentioned Victoria Principal and Peter Duffy. I knew this satisfied one question JF had and made me look like I knew about the TV show.

I was actually back in the building, walking back toward the staircase. I realized I'd said the name "Peter Duffy." I called back to JF that I'd meant to say "Patrick Duffy." Apparently JF was writing all this stuff down on a clipboard. I also mentioned the name "Ron Hagerty."

Drream #4

I was in a library, sitting at a table and reading. There were no lights on in the library. The only light coming into the place was from the windows all along the walls. But the light was very dim. It felt like it was early morning. My eyes also felt scratchy -- kind of like they feel when I "wake" into a lucid dream, although I wasn't lucid.

I was apparently on the phone with my mother. I was explaining something very important about my life. I was talking rather loud. And although I was holding onto the phone, I don't think I ever actually held it to my ear.

I eventually put the phone down -- either under the table and on my lap or else under or beside a book on the table top. I didn't stop talking. Instead, the "scene" with the conversation faded into the exact same "scene," except that I was no longer talking.

There was a woman, maybe in her twenties or thirties, seated in front of me. A man, maybe around the same age, sat to my right. The woman and the man both asked me if, next time I came to the library, I could please refrain from talking to myself so loudly. I think the woman had asked first, and that the man asked the same thing again.

I was surprised. I asked, "I was talking to myself?" The woman said yes. I couldn't quite believe it. I thought I'd been on the phone with my mother! I wondered if I was going crazy. Suddenly I couldn't remember very much about the conversation at all. I wondered what I'd actually been doing and saying!

The man repeated that I'd been just sitting in the chair, looking forward, and having a conversation with myself. He said it was really annoying and asked me if I could try never to do it again.

I was now "downstairs." The downstairs area was actually like some kind of indoor version of a small amusement park like Coney Island. All the booths around me had some kind of pale-turquoise or sea-blue color-schemes. Everything was very clean. Nothing was operating. It was all quiet.

I stood over some table, leafing through a thick file in a three-ring binder. A co-worker from an old job of mine, JM, came up to me. He looked very young, even thinner than usual, and kind of pale, with facial features a bit smaller and tighter than IWL. He wore a blue dress shirt and, possibly, grey dress slacks.

JM asked me how I was doing and what I thought of my new job. I didn't tell him that I'd quit my job after having a fight with my boss. I just told him that things were okay, although they could probably be a lot better, and that I hoped I could eventually find a place where things were good.

I seemed to be walking away from JM now, and deeper into this subterranean amusement park. But for some reason I didn't feel like what I'd told JM was enough. If he ever found out that I'd quit my job, he'd think the reasons I gave weren't sufficient, and that I'd been weak to quit.

So I ran back to JM and told him, "Look, I really hate my boss. I didn't want to tell you this. But he's a complete jerk, and he does all kinds of stupid things. I really don't think I can take it for too much longer. I seriously hate him."

JM looked a bit surprised by what I said. He walked away. He was going off to talk with some other people. He wasn't necessarily in the amusement park anymore, although I still saw him there.

I was nervous about JM talking with people. But I was also kind of happy about it. I jumped up in the air, as if to get away from the situation of having to worry about what JM would say or think about me.

I was floating a meter or so in the air, and descending slowly. I realized that as long as I jumped quickly enough, so that I didn't lose the floating height I'd gained, I could keep increasing my height.

I really wanted to get away from the situation I was in, so I kept jumping and jumping. Eventually I had gone far above the amusement park. I was floating into the blackness. I couldn't see anything around me.

I'd changed my flying motion from "jumping" to "swimming." I was now swimming through the air. Some sort of realization came to me. I couldn't really, physically, be flying. So I thought I was having some sort of out-of-body experience.

I didn't get overexcited about the supposed OBE. But I kind of began to doubt that I could be having that, either.

I had a false awakening. I was in a bed that wasn't mine. I lay face down. I felt like I was making swimming motions. I told myself, See? You only thought your astral body was flying by making swimming motions. Really, it was all just a dream, and you were lying here in bed, making swimming motions with your physical body.

But I still felt myself making swimming motions. I looked down at my body and saw it wasn't moving at all. And, yet, I saw a second body, like a ghost body, still making the swimming motions. I faded back to blackness, thinking, Well, I guess some part of me was swim-flying somewhere. And it wasn't my physical body.

I may have had the idea that I'd "flown up" into my body from the space I'd been in in my dream, and that, on joining my body, I'd woken. I may have thought that if I fell back to sleep, my "astral" body would sink back down through my bed and continue its swim-flying activity. I may actually have felt my body sink back down below my bed as I fell back to sleep.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

There was a girl who hung out with some extremely fashionable people, possibly Andy Warhol's entourage. She had either darkly tanned or copper-brown skin. Her body was lovely. But her head was very strange.

From her forehead back, her head was like a flat disk, like a plate. It was hairless and a little bit mottled. On either side of this disk, almost at the sides of the woman's cheeks, were eyes. The eyes were quite wide, pale, with very tiny pupils.

I saw the woman in two scenes. In the first scene, which I can't remember very well, the woman was indoors, in some place like a fashionable club. In the second scene, the woman was walking on some brick path beside a house, drinking some can of juice or soda. In this second scene, the girl was wearing a long, stylish, but very summery, green dress.

I noticed that the girl's mouth and chin were both very small. Her mouth was almost all the way down to her chin. I thought the girl must have had some kind of disease that had deformed her face.

I now heard the woman talk, as if in narration. She had been an orphan, but it had been very hard for her to find a home, due to her deformity.

Another female narrator now explained that her situation had been similar with that of a boy. I now saw the boy laying in the back of a car. He was little, maybe eight years old. He had shaggy, brown hair, and he wore a white t-shirt and khaki shorts. He told the camera (?), "I've been to a number of different homes. But nobody's wanted me -- because of my problem."

I wondered what the boy's problem was. He didn't look deformed. But I suddenly saw his chest, for just an instant. The boy had a healed-over puncture wound, very deep, in his chest, just up and to the right of his colar plexus. The wound looked just like somebody had stabbed a sign-post into the boy's chest. I took this wound to mean that the boy had heart problems.

The boy continued, "I went to the libraries to do research on my disease. But they didn't have much about it. But I studied whatever I could find."

I had a view of the boy in the library, typing at a computer. It looked like he was on some kind of black and white, text-only page on the internet. But it was just the library catalog. I thought to myself, It's a real sign of the times that, whenever this documentary was made, all you could do on a computer at a library was look up what books they had at that specific library. But nowadays, if you have the right keywords, you can do tons of research on just about anything.

The woman narrator now spoke about how she went to the library the boy had gone to, so she could see for herself how little information the library had regarding the boy's disease.

I was now far out in a big town, which I may have thought of as Brooklyn. I was way out at the end of town, but I needed to get back home. It was daytime, and the streets were really packed. I was looking for a subway station. I kept zig-zagging through various crowded streets, hearing people's conversations. I kept finding subway stations, but they were never the right ones.

One subway station was elevated maybe five or six meters above ground. It was set into a concrete stairway which had shrub-filled planters all along it. This appeared to be a station for one of the green trains (4, 5, or 6 line in New York). But it also seemed like the station was closed, even taped off with yellow police tape.

I wandered down a straight road filled with people and cars and tall buildings. There was noise and rushing everywhere. I may have done more zig-zagging through the streets, looking for a police station.

I was now in a quiet, suburban neighborhood, walking up to a driveway on the right side of a house, coming from the front of the house. As I did, a 12- or 13-year-old girl came walking up beside me. She was only wearing a pair of yellow briefs-style panties. She had pale skin and brown hair down to just above her shoulders.

I was in some bathroom. I had a huge mustache, and maybe a huge goatee. I was trimming my hair. I realized that the more I cut off, the better I looked. I wondered what would happen if I just cut the whole thing off.

I was back out in front of the house. In my memory, I heard a black man telling me how it would be bad if I kept thinking about the little girl whom I'd seen topless. He said that something like that was bound to get me in trouble.

I was now walking back over to the driveway. At the curb, the driveway had something over it, like a gate of garlands, through which a new bride might walk on her way up the aisle at an outdoor wedding.

Just coming through the gate was what appeared to be some kind of creepy guy. It looked like the guy was trying to catch up to me and elbow in front of me for some reason. So I sped up my walking to get to the house's side door before the creepy guy could get to me.

But then the person called out to me, not by name, just something like, "Hey!" I looked at the person and realized it was just the girl again. She was naked, again, except for her yellow briefs. The girl held a white, terry-cloth summer dress in her hands. But she didn't look like she was going to put it on.

The girl's body was a little weird to me. She was pretty thin, but her bottom was a little bigger than would seem to be proportional with her torso. The girl also had two "breasts," which were more like two little nubs of flesh with nipples on top, very close to each other at the center of her chest.

The girl seemed to be pretty interested in me. She said, "Yeah, I'm studying -----." (I forgot what she was studying.) We got in the house. We were in a hallway. At the far end of the hallway I saw a room off to the left, with orange walls, where my mom was sleeping on a low mattress or couch.

The girl and I walked into a room near the front of the hallway and off to the right. The room was small and plain, with just a mattress on the floor and a white sheet draped against the back wall. There may also have been a loose door or a long wood board leaning against the wall near or under the sheet.

The girl was continuing to talk about her study project. Apparently it was all a real pain in the neck. Now she needed to use a computer for some research. So she'd come back here, apparently to use my mom's desktop.

But we were apparently in this room because the little girl wanted me to have sex with her here. I was thinking it probably wasn't a good idea, because I didn't want my mom to wake up and discover us. But I also felt like if I wouldn't get in trouble, I should probably just have sex with the little girl. She seemed to be really curious. I thought I should help satisfy her curiosity.

Dream #2

(I had fallen asleep while "rehearsing" the memories of my first dream.)

I stood in a dark room of a museum with a woman and possibly another person, maybe a man. The woman was very business-like, professional looking. The walls of the museum were either black or not lit at all.

The woman and I stood before a painting of some dramatic scene, like a Redcoat soldier on a hill during the Revolutionary War. But it was done in a very realistic style, like that of Millet (?), except more watery. The sky was a slushy blue, and the hill was like washy waves of green, dotted with white flowers. The Redcoat seemed to be collapsing. He may already have been down on one knee.

The style struck me as very dramatic and beautiful. But suddenly I realized the painting was a pointillist painting -- a style of painting I generally don't like very much.

I told the woman that this might be one of the very few pointillist paintings I actually like. I gave a description of the painting. As I did, I suddenly thought, Wait a minute! This isn't a memory from one of my dreams! What the heck am I doing here?

The painting seemed to start changing, a black, comic-book style painting "burning" out from underneath it, from the middle outwards.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was with my family in a dark house. There seemed to be a lot of us, more than my extended family. We were all crowded around the television
The rest of the living room was crammed with boxes.

I was in town, visiting my family. Today was my last day in town.

My mom was behind us, in the kitchen. She told me that she had just called my aunt, and that my aunt would be coming over soon. I got mad at my mom. She and my aunt always has conflicts. I wondered why my mom would invite such conflict on my last day in town. I really didn't want to see my aunt.

My mom got upset and started crying asking didn't I know she was just trying to make it so I could see everybody I loved? I now felt really bad and figured I could deal with seeing my aunt.

Dream #2

I was with a man and a woman, walking through a place that looked like the lobby of a hotel. The man and I were carrying big plates of mirrors as big as windowpanes. The T three of us were here to visit a dying woman. We headed for an elevator. The woman by insisted on carrying the mirror I held. She felt like she hadn't been c doing enough. So I let her carry it.

We went into an elevator. The woman had laid down the mirror, which was now only about knee-high. We got up to the second floor, or the mezzanine. I walked around by myself now.

I was now in a place like a library. I found a book on a table that interested me. It seemed to be written in Hebrew and had colorful art on the jacket, like an Art Nouveau version of Hans Christian Andersen.

I was a little annoyed that I couldn't read the book. From a stack of books on a balcony above me, the voice of an unseen man began calling at me. The man sounded kind of nersy and annoying. But he was yelling at me that my time was coming soon, and that I was going to die.

I was really annoyed by the guy, but I decided to ignore him. Suddenly I found a section of the book I was looking at that was written in English. Finally I could understand the book.

Good morning, everybody. I think these dreams are both influenced by other dreams I've read on this site.

Dream #1

I was in a department store. The light was somewhat grey and dim. I walked to my right, into an area with a lot of dresses for little girls.

I walked past one long rack of dresses. The dresses were all shimmery. Most of them had one single color, like purple or pink. Some may even have had pointy, brimless "princess" hats (which now remind me more of the I Dream of Genie headdress).

All these dresses were supposed to be long on little girls. I assumed they'd hardly even fit onto my body. But for some reason I was still thinking of trying these things on.

I walked between two long racks of dresses. Some of these dresses seemed to have black velvet tops and gold skirts.

As I walked along, two or three tall, young, black men came walking from the other direction. The men were all dressed in shiny, satiny outfits that looked like jester outfits. The front guy may have been wearing sunglasses.

I scooted out of the way a little bit. When I did so, so did the guys. I excused myself and said sorry. The front guy said, "No problem, no problem."

I now found myself out in a wider area of the store. I was trying to figure out whether I wanted to go back to the dresses or go somewhere else.

Dream #2

I was possibly somewhere like a room in a library. I was probably with a group of peers, which was probably led by an older, tall, balding "teacher" figure with grey hair, glasses, jeans, and a denim shirt.

At some point I realized I wasn't wearing any pants or underwear. I was just wearing a big button-up shirt. I knew I needed to get fully dressed.

I walked out into a large stairwell like a big, open stairwell at a museum. I knew I was on the third floor and I needed to get down to the first floor. There were people on the stairs and on the floors between the stairs, walking in and out from exhibits. I had told myself I would run down the back stairwell. But I now realized I was going down the main stairway.

I thought for a moment I could keep going. I thought the shirt was long enough that nobody would see I was wearing no underwear. But then I saw that people had noticed I was wearing no pants and underwear. I was embarrassed. I hurried at the next landing to a doorway to the back stairwell.

I ran past a couple people and into the smaller stairwell, which was more like a fire escape stairwell. I was all alone. I started speeding down the stairs, almost flying down them, taking a lot of steps at once.

I went too fast and found that I had gone too far down. I was in an area full of white-painted pipes. The area was huge and well lit, and the pipes were all so neatly arranged, like bookshelves in a library.

I felt way out of place down here (although my state of undress didn't seem to bother me anymore). I knew I needed to get up to the correct floor. I imagined workers finding me and trying to do something bad to me.

I now imagined (???) a tall, black man in a beige denim jacket and black sunglasses standing before me at the bottom of the staircase. My view panned through the aisles of white pipes which also seemed to be decorated with white Christmas lights.

I imagined myself asking the imaginary man a weird question, like which way was the way out. I imagined the man first telling me something weird, like telling me how to get to the position in the basement where the exit would actually be on the first floor. I even imagined a huge painting, like a huge equestrian painting that might be seen in the lobby of an art museum.

I then imagined, as my view panned through an area of white pipes lit almost entirely by tons and tons of white Christmas lights, that the man asked me something, like he was asking me on a date (???). I imagined that just around the corner from this area there was something like a themed food court, all done up in a confectionery style, like old merry-go-rounds.

I thought that if this guy wanted to go have all this fun at "the festival," I'd have to get money from an ATM. I could hear Mexican music, like Mariachi music, playing somewhere.

I found myself in a place like the parking lot of a shopping plaza from when I was a kid. The shopping plaza had a number of large stores, like a big clothing store, a big grocery store, and a big bookstore. It was night, and the light was deep blue, with all the lights in the shopping plaza turned off. But I still saw the lights, felt the warmth, and heard the music of the festival somewhere.

I walked around trying to figure out where the festival was. I felt like I had woken from a dream. I may have been trying to convince myself that the music and light had only been in my dream, and that I was now just having trace memories of that stuff.

But, I told myself, I'm still dreaming! There's no way I could be just walking around here right now. This is a dream, too.

Realizing this was a dream, I felt a lot more clarity. The sky may have even gotten a bit lighter.

I decided to turn around and look for the festival. But as soon as I turned around, everything went black, like I had closed my eyes. I tried to "open my eyes" and see again. But I couldn't. I walked around. I felt and heard myself walking. I even continued hearing the music. I even had some idea of where I was in the parking lot. But I couldn't see anything.

Dream #3

I was in "my office," which was larger than my office, much more like an office floor for a larger company.

I got up from a cubicle when I heard that a couple of women were getting ready to interview a man for a position. I felt like they were interviewing a replacement for my position.

I walked a little ways, then looked through what seems to have been the underside of a large semi-truck's trailer, to the elevator bank at the front of the office floor.

I could see the interviewee in my mind's eye. He was a little kid, maybe 10 or 11 years old, dressed in a nice suit. One of the women interviewing him was a stout, Hispanic woman with short, black hair.

I heard from somebody nearby that my boss was getting fired, and that the person was interviewing to become my boss' replacement. That was a relief for me, considering I had been thinking all this time that I was going to get fired. I only hoped that management would decide to keep me after firing my boss.

I may have thought about the complications for this actually being possible. Maybe the man already had somebody like me on his team. So maybe he'd just bring that other person over from whatever company he was coming from. I also thought that it might not be worth it to work for this guy, anyway. Maybe he would just turn out to be a jerk.

Good morning, everybody. I remember four dreams from last night.

Dream #1

I was in a big airplane, either in the cockpit or near it while its door was open. In the plane were just me, the pilot, and one of my male friends. The sky outside was grey and wet.

We were taxiing down a runway. We picked up speed, as if we were going to take off. But we weren't getting up enough speed, in my opinion.

I could see from outside and just above the plane. The runway we were on looked way too short for our plane to get up enough speed to take off.

We taxied around the runway roads, clockwise, trying to loop back around and hit the long runway again with a little bit of momentum so we could build up enough speed to take off.

But somehow we ended up (as if we had been travelling counterclockwise) driving the plane outside of the airstrip and onto a strip of road before a large, Victorian-style house. The house was adjacent with the chain-link fence bordering the airport.

A military man in camouflage stood beside the airplane, talking with the pilot, as if he were just standing beside the window of some bus, not a huge airplane. The military man was older, white, tanned, with shortish, square-cut, white hair.

The military man said that the town in which this airport was located was being evacuated soon, anyway. Once it was evacuated, nobody would mind us using the public streets as a runway. That way we could easily get up enough speed to take off.

The military man said, "Heck, maybe even some of the people we evacuate out of the town would like to fly some planes with you!"

Somebody, maybe I, suggested that we get "some of those little planes" (in my mind's eye I saw cone-shaped planes maybe 3-4 meters long, painted white with red triangles pointing away from the nose). The "little planes" could easily get up enough speed to take off from a small runway like this.

We drove the plane away. The military man said he'd order some of "those little planes." He may even have started talking with a younger military man about the order.

It was now night. I stood before the Victorian house, in some little niche set between the wall and the staircase up to the front door. In the niche was an old-style, wooden podium. The podium may have held a big book.

I was probably here to talk to the military man regarding the little planes. I wasn't trying to speed up the order. I was actually trying to figure out what the planes were, to see if they were the right things to use. But I figured my being here to ask about the planes would make me look impatient, and that I'd get on the military's bad side because of it, if I didn't do things the right way.

Somebody came out to talk to me. He was a younger soldier, in formal dress, even a hat (which kind of looked like a Nazi hat). He explained a few things to me about the higher-ups' names. I tried to keep it all in mind.

The man saluted me. I was so surprised that I saluted back, with tears in my eyes (for some reason). Somehow I could see the man reflected in my tears, as if the tears were the surface of sunglasses.

I was alone again. I turned to the book in a frenzy. I had just forgotten everything the man had told me. The high-up military man's name was Wellinghoff. Or was it Norris? I couldn't remember. And I couldn't remember the correct titles of all the higher-ups, either.

Dream #2

I was in a bookstore or library. It had an old feel to it. It was all made of wood. It was open, with a ground level and probably a balcony level running along the walls. The ceilings were very high. The center of the store was mostly small, wide tables with books displayed on the. The walls were lined with shelves.

I saw, from high up, a couple of my female friends. One of them was aw woman I haven't seen since college. I decided to go say hi to them.

To get to them I began climbing down a wooden pole about 20cm in diameter. I was climbing down the pole head first for a way. Then I did some weird kind of fllip move so that I was climbing down feet first.

I ended near some small, tight, spiral staircase, for which this long pole may have served as a support column. The pole seemed to end a couple meters above the ground. I had to jump the rest of the way down. The two women were right nearby.

I slowly, flexibly reached away from the pole. I relaxedly leapt away from the pole, almost as if I were floating away from it. I landed very softly on my feet.

Thinking that the women would think I was showing off with all I had just done (I wasn't exactly sure myself how I had done it), I started talking naturally to act like nothing had happened.

I began fumbling through a couple of books and even something that looked like a mix between a woman's wallet with a tiny mirror on the front. The wallet may have been a dark blue suede, and it may have had some black and white photo of a famous actress or famous work of art on it.

Dream #3

I was in a department store. The store looked kind of cheap and run-down. I was now at the counter, getting my stuff rung up. The person ringing me up was a woman, but I don't know if she was older or younger.

Something went wrong, and the woman needed to wait before she charged me. I decided to walk around the store some more.

Off to the left of the cash register and a little ways away was a rack of really cheap-looking lingerie. For some reason, I decided to look through it. I took a few items off the rack, as if I were either going to buy them or try them on.

At some point, I came to the conclusion that I was in a Victoria's Secret.

I looked down into a plastic tub (?) which had a few stray pairs of panties inside. I figured that if I was buying or trying on the lingerie, I'd also need to try on some panties. So I tried to pick some out.

I remember one pair of panties that was like a thong, pale yellow, with a cottony back and a sheer, net-like front with flower designs on it. Another pair was like briefs. The material was blue like denim. But it had a weird, scaly look and feel.

Just to my left was a window wall. Just beyond the wall was another rack of lingerie. A big, tall, black man in a black t-shirt and sunglasses was fingering through the lingerie. I could see that he was also looking for articles of lingerie to try on.

Dream #4

I was in "my shower," which was a shower-only stall. It was set into the end of the narrow bathroom.

Either my shower curtain had broken or I had decided I'd needed to adjust it somehow. I took the curtain off the rod. Then I tried to put it back on.

I suddenly realized that by taking the curtain off the hook I'd screwed everything up. The curtain was actually just a gigantic plastic bag, like an enormous version of a grocery bag. The bag had been folded around the rod and against the wall (even into holes in the wall?) in so many weird ways that I likely couldn't replicate it.

I figured I'd do my best and try to re-do things. I was up on the wall, looking down on the shower curtain. I don't know how I was up there -- possibly by holding myself in place by doing the splits and holding each foot against the wall? I began working on the gigantic plastic bag.

Good morning, everybody. I remember two dreams from last night. The second dream occurred in a 15-minute space between my waking up to check the time and my actually getting out of bed.

Dream #1

I was in a forest or a park. It was a clear, autumn day. I stood with a small group of people who were probably around my age. We were hiding or just standing behind a tall tree like a poplar but with really ropy bark.

In a leaf-strewn clearing just beyond the tree, a woman was interviewing "the famous artist" Dylan Reed. He was either a poet or a punk rock singer. But he was generally known as a kind of rebel genius.

The interviewer started asking the man a series of questions based on something I had told her about a friend of mine who was also known as kind of a wild guy. The friend may have been among the group of people standing with me behind the tree.

I felt embarrassed that the interviewer was posing all these questions in such a way that they were obviously about my friend and they were obviously made to guve the impression that I thought badly about my friend. And, worst of all, they were posed directly to "the famous artist" Dylan Reed, of whom I thought so much!

The scene of the interview seemed to change from being in the forest or park to being in some kind of department store, possibly near the perfume section. The interview was now over, and the woman had walked away.

One or two friends and I were now trying to meet Dylan Reed, who was still milling around, all by himself. He seemed to be a tall, good-looking, white man, somewhat well dressed, with hair about down to his jawline. The perfume area was now something like an area displaying things like small luggage and bookbags.

Dylan Reed and my wild friend were something like the same person. My friends and I got a chance to speak with him. While my friends, in particular a pretty female friend, were speaking with Dylan Reed, I was thinking to myself how to make him understand that I didn't think about him in such a critical way as the interviewer had made it sound.
I may have been staring at a very nice, navy blue book bag up on a glass shelf. I may have seen it from a low angle, a child's point of view.

Dream #2

I walked through a very nice lobby like in a museum or a very big library. There were stone columns and walls, marble floors, and wide, curving staircases. A dim light flowed in from high windows. Some walls or portions of walls may also have been wooden.

I was particularly interested in a set of columns that looked "Egyptian," with very ornate, almost wood-like, carvings of fruit and tree-textures.

I was either walking with or meeting up with a woman about my age, possibly my old friend P. She told me, "I've been around this place since the mid-70s. So I've seen it really develop and change through the whole remodeling process." I was pretty impressed.