maboroshi

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A kind of short, cocky-looking Latino guy with kind of tall, wavy hair was walking through a door. The guy was wearing a military jacket and no shirt. He had a girl on either arm. He was kind of giggling to himself.

The guy seemed to be walking into some huge mansion, which was probably his. The idea seemed to be that the guy had gotten rich somehow, possibly through rap music. He was really gloating about his success, which was really pissing me off. I wondered why the assholes were always the successful ones.

The man was followed by another guy, who I assumed was the guy's brother. The brother looked a lot like the man, except that he looked a lot more gentle-mannered and worn-out. He may have been partly bald. The brother also entered with two people, possibly family members.

The brother was then followed by a lot of other family members. I thought it was at least good that the man was letting his whole family in on his wealth.

But now it was like the group of people was some kind of tour, taking a walk through Beyonce's mansion. The group was mostly young adults and older kids. Everybody, walking through the mansion, had the feeling that they would be able to make money like this, too, someday.

I was following the people through the mansion from a backward view, like I was facing people and looking through a dolly-camera as it tracked through the rooms. Each room of the mansion had different colors for the walls. There was one room with yellow walls and another room with sea-green walls.

In the room with sea-green walls a young, white woman was looking at a bunch of empty picture frames that hung on the wall. I had turned around to face forward and look at the woman.

The woman asked me, "How do they get the money for the models for these things?" I didn't know how to respond to that. Apparently the woman thought the picture frames had all been made to order or built by hand, instead of just bought.

I walked into another room, which was mostly dark. It was a really big room, almost like a ballroom. But most of the room couldn't be seen in the darkness. I stood in the light of the room I had just left.

Obscured from my view by some tall potted plants like palms was a table. Two people stood at the table. At first I thought it was Jay-Z and Beyonce. But then I realized it was Beyonce and some other woman. At first I thought the woman was white. But as I creeped around the plants, I saw that she was black.

Beyonce said something to the woman about giving the woman advice, from one mother to another.

Dream #2

I was in some place like a locker room with a group of people like business people. The business people were all smarter and more put-together than I was. But they all liked me anyway, for some reason. We had just finished up something. We were now hanging around and laughing with each other.

Then some sports team came into the room. They were like a soccer team at first. It was also like they were somehow a part of our group. But then they were some other group of people. They started getting really loud and rowdy, kind of to bully the rest of us and make us feel uncomfortable.

Then the group of people became a whole bunch of black guys. They were all kind of skinny and grizzled-looking. One had a long, skinny, grey beard. They all wore really nice golfing clothes, with pale beige golfing sweaters. They'd all just come in from the links. They threw their golf bags all over the floor.

For some reason I was laying on the floor. One guy saw me on the floor and threw his golf bag so it landed on my right leg. It didn't hurt very much. But I knew he'd done it out of disrespect.

I stood up instantly and was right in the guy's face. I may even have been standing on his feet. The guy seemed passive, but not really afraid. I was yelling at the guy and doing something physical to him, to try to hurt him. I got madder and madder.

Suddenly I was out on a beach. The beach felt small, almost fake. I couldn't see the water. There seemed to be a couple dunes of sand on either end of a small, flat area of beach. I stood near one of the dunes with a young woman.

The woman knew, but wasn't quite telling me, that I'd gotten so mad just a moment ago that I'd committed some kind of really violent act on a group of people. I'd probably killed a few people. The bodies were now gone, but there were still small traces of blood here and there.

I couldn't remember anything about the violent act, and the woman wouldn't tell me anything about it. She didn't even tell me outright that I'd done it. All I could figure was that I'd killed that group of black men in the locker room.

Something about that thought brought the black man before me again. I was filled with rage. But for some reason I was now just flying over the sand. In the places where the dunes had been, or maybe just before the dunes, were two intricate sand sculptures, each of a city. The cities looked almost like Middle Eastern cities.

Dream #3

There was some kind of big tract of land with a house on it. The house was at the bottom of a kind of steep hill. The hill had a flower garden on it.

At the base of the hill, along the side of the house, was a stone path which may almost have felt like a trench in places. At some point in the trench area was a door that led into some dark, cellar-like room. This was apparently a woman's quarters. The room also held a bathroom.

The woman who lived in the quarters was probably Irish, pale-skinned, tallish, fat, with red-brown hair. She wore a dress of coarse, plain fabric, probably denim-blue and tan. She was probably a little grouchy, lazy, and mean.

My sister now stood before me and a few other family members in a kitchen. My sister was very young, maybe nine or ten years old. She wore a pale blue skirt and some long, white stockings with blue designs on them.

My sister was complaining about having gone down into the bathroom in the woman's quarters. She had opened the door while a woman -- probably not the woman who lived there -- was in the bathroom.

My sister told us, "I'm not a lesbian. So I wouldn't try to see a woman naked. But when I opened up the bathroom door the woman did this." My sister grabbed her chest and made gestures indicating big breasts.

My sister said, "Then she said, 'I'm married with kids, so don't get any ideas!' Like she thought I was coming into the bathroom to have sex with her!"

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was with two friends, a man and a woman. We were walking into something like a high school gymnasium which had been done up for a flea-market-type sale.

Just inside the heavy metal doors was an aisle of tables, running from the left to the right, and extending across the width of the gymnasium. The tables were all divided into booths, and were filled with people selling things.

It seemed like my friends and I had gotten to the flea-market sale pretty early. There weren't many other customers around. Some of the vendors may still have been arranging their booths.

My male friend split off from my female friend and I. My female friend was a black woman, short, a bit overweight. She had short hair arranged in little spikes or braid-like twists.

We walked toward the back, right corner of the aisle. My friend stopped and looked at some shirts. They were long-sleeved shirts, warm for the winter, in kind of flat green and cream-white. I may have fondled a square, paper tag that may have said something about how the shirts were made of hemp-cloth.

My friend now stopped at a booth with hats on it. She picked up a blue denim hat with a short, round brim. She put it on and asked me how she looked. I thought she looked pretty cool.

I thought I'd fool around and try on a hat as well. But my friend chose a hat for me. She said I'd look good in a cowboy hat. The hat she gave me was huge, almost like a caricature of a cowboy hat. But both sides of the brim were also pinned to the crown of the hat -- so the hat kind of looked like a hat-taco.

I put it on anyway and looked at myself in a mirror on the back wall of the booth. I thought I looked like a complete goofball.

I think at this part I started to hear voices in my head. They sounded like the voice of Sherlock Holmes. I may have been reasoning something out, as if I were Sherlock Holmes.

Suddenly I was in a room. I was one of three children. But I wasn't in the body of whichever child I was.

The children were actually more like young adults. They were probably in their late teens and early twenties. There were two boys and one girl.

One of the boys was Sherlock Holmes. The girl was a really pretty, fair-skinned girl with kind of slim eyes and long, pale-brown hair. The kids all had the style and attitude of kids from the late 1970s.

The kids were all up in one of their bedrooms, which was a kind of small room up on a second or third floor of a mansion. They'd each alternately pace lazily around the room or lay down on the bed, roll around on it, etc.

The kids were all speaking with each other. Sherlock Holmes still seemed to be reasoning something out with himself. The girl was at least teasing Sherlock Holmes, if not the other boy. All three kids were lazy -- and they knew it. But the girl took a little bit more pleasure in teasing the boys for being lazy.

The girl had to leave. Then the two boys were together. But then one of the boys had to leave. The other boy was by himself.

During this time the boy had transformed from Sherlock Holmes into Lewis Carroll. As Sherlock Holmes, the boy had been just a regular boy, or young man, from the 1970s. As Lewis Carroll, something about him changed. He actually took on more of a late nineteenth century appearance.

But the boy was still lazy. He may have known that the girl had gone off and found a job. And the other boy may have at least gone looking for a job as well. But Sherlock/Lewis was still just sitting up in his room.

Sherlock/Lewis was thinking of what kind of excuse he'd give his parents (with whom he was still living) for not yet having found a job.

He thought he'd make up something about being a writer and needing his time to write. In my mind's eye I saw a huge, yellow pencil laying across the bed with the boy. I thought the writer excuse kind of made sense. After all, if this was Lewis Carroll, he was really a great writer.

But then Sherlock/Lewis, looking out the window, started thinking about what his dad would say about him. I could hear his dad's voice in his head. Eventually the dad's speech took over the narrative.

The dad, who was like Bill Loud in the show An American Family, was narrating a letter that he'd written to his wife. His wife was out in some foreign country, maybe France, taking care of some business.

The dad wrote his wife that he'd gone to visit the daughter at either the location of her new job or at her college campus. Either way, the daughter was in a new town. But this was a town where the dad and mom had met and fallen in love. So the dad was happy to go back there.

There was a view of some part of a campus, I think, in this town. There were a lot of trees. But it was winter, and the trees were all leafless. The branches struck me as being very black.

The father wrote/narrated a very sentimental statement that began with him sighing, "Ah!, the memories..."

Now there was a strange view of painty-looking or animated-looking flowers, huge, five-petalled, yellow flowers, blossoming on the barren branches. The father made some kind of statement about the first experience of love between him and his wife, and how it was as delicate as trembling petals.

Dream #2

I was watching a documentary. There was a black and white photograph of two girls from a wealthy Italian family. The girls were sitting on the left rim of the pool for a big fountain, which was out on a gravel driveway leading up to the family's huge mansion.

The photo was really blotchy. It was apparently taken in the 1940s, though the girls seemed to me to look more like they were from the 1970s, or even the present.

The girls both had really long hair, which was very straight and plain. And the girls wore very short denim shorts, or denim coveralls with very short leggings. Both girls had a skinny look about them, though neither really was skinny. They both looked a little dull and overly spoiled.

The view now closed in on the girl sitting higher up on the rim. This girl was the older sister. A narrator now explained that the older sister had a disease, which had made her life very tragic.

As the narrator continued, the view now became active and in color. The view had shifted away from the fountain and onto the gravel driveway. It was the present. But things at this estate were pretty much the same as they had been in the 1940s.

There were a few old men standing out by some junk in the driveway. It looked like it may have been a ticket booth and some other equipment related to an old-time carnival.

The narrator's speech had continued. The narrator had explained that the girl had never been particularly pretty. But as she reached her seventeenth year, she'd begun to blossom into a more beautiful girl.

But at this time, the girl was suddenly struck by a disease which was like a cancer, eating away at her face. The disease was combatted once, and the girl was okay. But then the disease came back again and again, until a few years later, the girl's face was completely ravaged.

One of the men in the gravel driveway now walked over to the right side of the road. There was a big structure there. It was made of concrete, and it was as tall as the man. It was shaped like the plastic head of a baby doll. And I supposed that the face of this giant, concrete baby doll was turned away from me, so that I only saw the back of the head.

The back of the head, though, had a huge chunk smashed right out of its center. The chunk revealed , through a thick, ragged window of concrete-white, pebbly casing, the hollowness of the doll's head.

I assmumed that there was probably a similar smashing in on the front side of this gigantic baby doll's head. And I assumed that this head was a metaphor for the 1940s girl's head. I realized that this was what the disease had done to the woman.

Dream #3

Some anime. The main bad guy was a beautiful-man kind of figure: skinny, elegant, with long, purple hair. He was a very sinister kind of character.

But it turned out that the reason the bad guy had been causing all the trouble was because somebody had taken his favorite teddy bear away from him. He assumed the good guys had done it. So he was causing all kinds of trouble for them.

I thought this was a really disappointing reason for a bad guy to be bad. It cheapened the whole story. I couldn't even figure out why good guys would fight this bad guy at all.

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

I was in a huge building, either like a mansion or a museum. The building was dim, as if at night, with only a few lights on.

I had been in a back area, where there was a high, wooden wall, with a tall window up high on the wall. I then walked forward to some narrow area with a slanted, wall-like display stand or case.

My old friend R was standing in front of this display area. He stood really close to it. He seemed to be trying to avoid looking at me. I somehow knew he'd gotten a reputation for being violent, almost psychotic. He was so tired of dealing with this reputation that he didn't even want to have to look at anybody.

But he actually was as violent as people accused him of being. And he actually wanted to act violently toward me, because he felt I'd somehow insulted him.

I faced R. But now he was in a room even closer to the front of the building. He was in a little niche in a wall to my right. He may even have been wrapped in bandages, like a mummy.

I wanted to prove that there was no reason to be afraid of R and that I wasn't afraid of him. So I handed R a whole bunch of items that looked like huge items of silverware: like huge forks and knives. There were also some huge tongs that looked like forks. Everything was sharp, and I knew it could all be used as a weapon to kill me.

I was now going to leave the house. The idea was, I knew, that if R had weapons and I left the house, that R would kill me. But I was going to prove people wrong. Nevertheless, I was still afraid to leave through the front door.

I ran all the way to the back of the building. There was a window I'd easily be able to climb up to and crawl out of. But as I started crawling out the window, I felt like R might be right there, waiting to throw the weapons I'd given him at my chest.

So I climbed back down. To my right, as I faced the wall, there was a dim kitchen, just like a kitchen in any nice suburban house. Just above the sink was another window. I thought that since R thought I was going to come out the back window, I'd be safe going out the kitchen window instead.

But as I was climbing out the window, I could feel R's presence again. I knew that this time he probably would manage to catch me, throwing the sharp weapons I'd given him at my chest and piercing my heart.

Dream #2

I was looking at a magazine, maybe a porn magazine. The pages were nothing but photos, maybe six photos per page, in the same kind of style as a porn magazine.

The photos showed two girls in bed. They were about nine or ten years old. They were wearing pajama pants and pajama shirts. Apparently, under their pajama pants the girls were wearing diapers.

The girls got into a kind of sixty-nine position with each other. The girl on top of the other girl rubbed her face against the bottom girl until her pants had been worked off. She somehow managed to remove the girl's diaper in the same way.

Good morning, ,everybody.

Dream #1

A gigantic cruise ship like the Titanic was out on the sea during a huge storm. There were a lot of people in the main dining room. The dining room was big and bright, with low ceilings and small, round tables draped in white tablecloths. The dining room may have had doors, and possibly even windows, right out to the deck.

People had been warned to stay inside the inner parts of the ship during the storm. But one of the men actually opened one of the doors or windows out to the deck. He may actually have gone outside, on the left side of the ship.

The storm blew the man back through the door and out another door on the opposite side of the ship. The man could be seen clinging onto an old-style, wooden mast, his body being blown pretty much horiztonally by the storm, like a flag in the wind.

I was now back in the dining area. But now the place was almost totally empty. It was also very dim and full of heavy, wooden tables. I sat at a rectangular table for six or eight people. A beautiful woman sat across from me. I myself was a beautiful woman.

One man had just walked away from us. He may have been my boyfriend, or he may have been the woman's boyfriend. But there was also a man slumped down in his chair to the woman's left. He seemed to be the woman's boyfriend. He was so drunk that he'd passed out.

The woman was upset about the man having gotten this drunk again. I, possibly as the woman's friend, was trying to comfort the woman.

I encouraged the woman to have a drink. I said it might make her feel better and make her feel like she'd equalled things up between herself and her man. I told her the drink would be on me.

But the woman, hearing that I was buying her drinks, suddenly became greedy with drinks! I don't know where she was getting the drinks from, but she kept pounding them back, sometimes even two-fisting it.

The woman was drinking gin in something like a baseless wine glass. And each time she'd finish a drink, a little green scoreboard over her left shoulder would count the drink off.

Finally the woman stopped drinking. But it wasn't like she was drunk at all. Both our men were back. But my man was already in bed. The woman's man was still passed out drunk.

I figured both men wouldn't be much good for sex tonight, but I told the woman that she could probably find some way to make her man please her. I had an image in my head of either the woman or me sitting up, still in a dress, while one of the men, so drunk he couldn't even sit up, lay on his stomach and performed cunnilingus on either me or the woman.

But what I was really interested in was trying to prove to the women that her man was so drunk that he'd be no good at all for the night. Then we could find some way to get rid of the man for the evening. After that, I'd convince the woman to have lesbian sex with me.

But now we were carrying the man back to the bedroom, which was apparently down a short hallway just past the dining area. The woman had the man's head, and I had his feet. The man seemed really sick. I was afraid he was going to puke all over me sooner or later.

Dream #2

A man was telling me and a group of friends about how he and a woman (who sat beside him) had lived in a mansion for a while. Someone else may have lived there with them. The other person may have been really rich. The man and woman were well-off, in fact they looked like a glamorous couple from the 1920s, except alive today, but they weren't rich.

So while the rich person had one portion of the house, the couple had the maids' quarters, which themselves were huge. The man said the couple didn't have to do any maid work. They just liked the quarters because they were so big and they felt kind of old, like an old castle or monestary.

As the man spoke about the maids' quarters, they materialized around us. Everything seemed to be made of concrete, painted over, like a public restroom. In fact, there was some huge restroom just behind the man, not divided from our room by a wall, but by a concrete seat, in which the couple sat.

The man told us, "We even used the hands-all bathroom while we were there, which was huge."

Somebody, possibly I, asked what a hands-all bathroom was. The man said he didn't know, that he'd never asked to find out.

I said, "I think 'hands-all' is like when you say 'all hands,' like when people say, 'all hands on deck.' I think it was a huge bathroom that all the servants used at once when they were suddenly called to duty, so they could all get washed up and ready at a moment's notice."

A woman said, "Or, what I was thinking is that it was for the smaller bathroom. Because that one had a mini beauty salon in it." A small bathroom, with something like a barber's chair and a mirror with lightbulbs around it, appeared in a room two or three rooms down, behind the woman.

The woman said, "I think 'hands-all' meant something like 'the works,' like if you went into that bathroom, you'd get 'hands-on' treatment -- a full makeover. And all the maids would take turns giving each other makeovers."

I was pretty sure my idea was right and the woman's idea was wrong. (??!!) But I didn't say anything. Instead, my vision seemed to focus on the huge tub in the huge bathroom. It was like I was right there. The bathtub was full, almost to overflowing, with very warm, but not hot, water.

Dream #3

I was in outer space, speeding upward and away from the earth. I must have been in a small spaceship, but sometimes it felt like I was just out in space, in some space suit.

Another man was out there, even though I don't think I ever saw him. The man spoke about another man who had taken a dimensional transport to another universe. He had done this as part of a battle with a group of aliens trying to destroy the world.

The man told me that the aliens could actually use the shockwaves of dimensional transport to destroy the earth. But the use of shockwaves and dimensional transport in flight was also the method of fighting that the aliens normally used in their battles.

So, the man told me, the other man had gone into another dimension and was conducting these kind of shockwave battles with the aliens. I imagined orange, kind of traffic-cone-shaped spaceships fighting with each other.

The man said that the other man would be back soon, as soon as he'd accomplished his mission. But now this man seemed to be going somewhere as well. Perhaps I was going somewhere, too.

We, or I, sped upward through space. I encountered a dimensional shockwave, from where alien spaceships had been. As I blasted through it, the sky of stars became filled with many more stars, some of which were different colors -- gold, purple, red, pink. There was also beautiful, brilliant nebular dust everywhere.

I was amazed by the beauty of the sight. But, suddenly, the sun (?) was eclipsed. The darkness of the sun (if it was the sun) revealed an even deeper layer of beauty in this universe. I was astonished!

I was now in a hospital. But the part of the hospital I was in was more like the control room in some kind of military base. All the people in this control room seemed focused on taking care of some procedure for one little girl. The room was small and crowded, with four or five rows of computer-embedded tables, each row split into two slanting aisles.

One man was in charge of administering painkillers to the baby girl. But he said, "That girl's had enough stuff to mess with her system. I'm not putting anything else in her." A black man, somebody like a nurse or a janitor, sat to the man's right and heard him say this.

There were two or three men standing before a screen at the back of the room. The main man was something like a head surgeon. He may somehow have been controlling the procedure being done on the baby girl, who was in another room, through something like remote-controlled robots.

But suddenly the screen shot of the baby girl cut to a sign (in kind of cheesy, 1970s style, "high-tech" lettering) saying "INCONCLUSIVE." This sign stayed on for a few seconds.

The head doctor was panicked. Something had gone wrong in the operation. But he couldn't figure out what had happened!

The screen now switched to a sign saying "INCONSCIOUS," which I guess was supposed to mean "unconscious." It meant the girl had slipped into a coma and was probably dying. This sign was flashing on a lot of different screens, now, and it may have been accompanied by buzzing alarms.

The head doctor shouted, "Dammit! We're losing her! What went wrong? Does anybody know what's going on?"

One of the other people shouted, "Her pain levels are really high. Her body couldn't take it anymore. It slipped into a coma to shield itself from the pain."

The head doctor yelled, "Did somebody forego painkillers before the operation?"

The black man, who had been sitting next to the doctor who'd decided not to administer painkillers said, "Yes! The doctor said he wasn't going to give the girl anything! I saw him! I was right here when he said it.!"

The head doctor seemed relieved. Everybody did. I saw from somebody's point of view, as if I were now actually in this scene. I was looking at the screen of the doctor who hadn't administered painkillers.

The head doctor said, "Start giving the baby girl some painkillers. As soon as they start to take effect, the girl should slip out of her coma. We'll start the operation over after that."

I was already putting in the commands to administer painkillers.

Good morning, everybody.

Dragon #1

It was black night. I was walking to a cafe, probably because I thought I was going to meet some friends there, in particular my old friend ML. I may actually have known ML was going to be at the cafe, though he hadn't invited me. I may have decided to show up at the cafe, in spite of his not inviting me, just so he'd know I knew.

I was in some small shopping plaza, possibly at the edge of a smallish residential area in a suburban town. The shopping plaza was three stories tall. It was a series of buildings, kind of like office buildings. The shops were all connected to each other by outdoor balconies. I stood between the buildings in a big, concrte courtyard. I felt like the cafe was in the basement level of one of these buildings.

I may then have been out by a bridge, somewhere near the banks of a river. I was working on some kind of box, like an electrical box attached to some kind of short, stout, concrete pole. The "box" may have been something more like a simple switch. The switch may have been in decent condition, but the metal base around the switch may have been really rusty. I may have heard some weird, whistling sound, which may have frightened me.

I was in some room, probably with three other people. The room we were in felt a little like a living room. But the room was so big and empty and cold-feeling that it seemed more like some kind of business room. There was a huge window-wall looking out on the black night.

One of the three other people was an older man, probably dressed nicely. He was like a boss to the rest of us. Another was a woman, about my age (early 30s), dressed like a business woman. The third person was probably a man.

The boss told us something we should get started working on. But he told us, as he seemed to be leaving the room, that we should avoid going down to the bridge. The man now seemed to be touching a glass case, trying to get an electric reaction out of something else in the case.

The man told us that certain monitoring equipment was picking up a strange noise down there. The noise, the man told us (although I heard it at the same time) was like a phone picking up, with a conversation way in the distance. But the noise would soon turn to a shrill buzzing. This kind of noise indicated ghost activity, though I don't think the man said this directly.

I suddenly remembered my own experience near the bridge. I didn't tell the man about it. Instead, I tried to question the man more on the characteristics of the sound. I got a little more info from the man.

The person who had had the ghost experience was now a woman. After hearing the info regarding the ghost bridge, the woman seemed to have become distracted and dazed. The man had told the other people to keep the woman from going to the bridge. But the woman was definitely going to try to go back.

At first it seemed like the people were all staying in different cabins in some kind of wildnerness area. The woman snuck away from her cabin without anybody noticing. She was running down through a well-manicured but large garden area and down to the bridge. She wore a Victorian-style dress, probably white on top and pale, sea-blue on the skirt. She also had red hair, done up and back in a round, Victorian style.

Now it was like all the people were staying in one big mansion. But the woman had escaped the mansion. She was riding a bike on a garden path between two rows of very tall, euonymus-type shrubs. At one point, she turned a corner. As soon as she turned the corner, a man, also dressed in Victorian clothing, stood up and began pursuing the woman.

The man knew what path the woman was taking. He also knew paths he could take as shortcuts, so that he could cut the woman off, even though she was on a bike and he was on foot. There was water somewhere, coming from something like a fountain or a lawn sprinkler.

The woman was riding through a section of path with the hedges so thick on either side that she couldn't see anything else. Suddenly the man grabbed the woman from behind. He pulled her off her bike, spun her around, and embraced her. The man acted like he was in love with the woman -- maybe he was. The woman and the man embraced and kissed.

The man and woman were now in a bedroom. But now the man was a woman. The two women were kissing, and it looked like they were going to end up in bed together. But the first woman broke free of the second woman. She took on a dazed kind of attitude again and said that she had to go away. It was pretty obvious that she was going to try togo to the ghost bridge, though she may not have said it.

The second woman lay down in bed. She was partly frustrated that she hadn't gotten to have sex with the first woman. But she was also frustrated that she hadn't been able to keep the woman from trying to go back to the ghost bridge.

The second woman now pulled a hood over her head. (The second woman also had red hair, though her hair was darker than the first woman's hair.) The woman wore a pale sea-blue nightgown. The hood was a part of the gown. But it was a wizard's hood. The woman said something like, "We'll see about that girl! She thinks she can just go like that when she's been kept from the place. I'll pay her back for acting that way."

The second woman lay her head on her pillow. It looked like she was going to fall asleep. But I felt like she was going to try and perform some kind of magic action against the first woman.

I now sat in a cafe, which was more like a waiting area in some place like a college or a hospital. It was like the ghost bridge incidents had been from a movie I'd been watching, and that I had just now been deep in a reverie regarding the memories of that movie. I had also remembered some background tune from the movie, and I was humming it to myself.

I sat on the arm of an orange, thickly cushioned chair. I was looking out a big window, to some lawny area like in a city park. It was daytime, and the light was bright grey outside. A skinny, young, black man sat at a picnic bench near the window. I knew the man was following me. He couldn't come into the cafe for some reason or another. So he had to wait outside for me.

I was kind of sick of being followed around by this guy, and I was wishing there was some way I could stop him. But I also seemed to be really preoccupied with the imagery of the ghost bridge "movie."

Somebody else in the "cafe" started brashly humming a terribly out of key tune. It suddenly drew attention to the fact that I was still humming the background music from the ghost bridge "movie." I stopped huming as soon as I realized that I'd been humming loud enough for other people to hear.

I sat there silently, still staring out the window, though I couldn't see out the window very well anymore. My focus was more on the man, who kept humming horribly out of key.

I looked to my left, to the man, who sat in a chair, reading a newspaper. The man was old, from some Latin-European country, I guessed. He wore an orange polo shirt. He was short, and he was good looking, but he also looked kind of mean and rude. Another old man was sitting at the end of a couch, directly to the first old man's right. This man was a little taller, pale skinned, a little overweight, and bald.

I looked away from the old men. I figured that now that I'd stopped humming, the man would also stop humming. But he only began to hum even louder! I was like he was trying to annoy me, rather than trying to say anything about how I'd been humming too loud. I was getting kind of mad, because the guy just kept humming louder and louder and more and more off key.

But, finally, the second old man said, "Look! You don't like it when people do things like that? Then don't do those kinds of things yourself!"

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was at "my office," which was basically two cubicles set in one of the product islands at a discounter store like a Kmart or a Wal-Mart. I sat in the left cubicle. My co-worker S sat in the right cubicle. There was an aisle for a walkway between us.

I had been doing some kind of work, but now I stood up from my cubicle and walked into the main part of the store. I had probably been thinking about my bad handwriting.

I looked in the distance. Hanging on the wall or hanging from the ceiling were two signs, as big as the signs that might usually advertise products, like in a Target. The signs may just have materialized as I watched them. They mimicked my handwriting, making two whole pages out of little scrawls. The two pages seemed to be slightly curled and almost touching each other back-to-back.

I thought that described my handwriting really well. I was now walking back toward the cubicles. I walked past some sort of exchange counter, which was just a smallish, fake wood counter which may possibly have stood before a dressing room. A kind of big-framed, kind of muscly woman with very short hair stood before the counter. She wore a white tank top and blue jeans.

The woman was trying to exchange something that looked like a classical statue of a chest and head of a man. The sculpture was in some kind of grey, slatey material. The back of the sculpture was completely flat. It hadn't had any features carved into it, but there were all kinds of apparently accidental scratches made in it.

As I headed back to my desk, my co-worker CB, a peer to my boss, walked up behind me. He had completely shaved his head, and he looked a little more tan than before. He wore a green shirt with white woven in, so that it looked like it was inside-out, and some blue jeans.

I was afraid that CB hated me. I also knew that my boss wasn't around, so I figured CB would try to make trouble. So I tried to hurry and sit down at my desk. But, for some reason, CB kissed me on the head. He said something nice to me. He may have asked me to help him with some issue he was having with a project. I was relieved that he didn't hate me.

(Although in waking life I don't think I'd appreciate it if he kissed me on the head.)

Dream #2

I was in a dark hallway that was made of big, stone blocks. The hallway was tall, somewhat wide, and almost completely dark. I was apparently taking a break from studying.

Just for fun, apparently, I decided to bounce upwards off the walls. I bounced from wall to wall, bringing myself higher and higher. I was finally almost to the ceiling. At this point my body was horizontal, as if I were floating and laying on my left side.

I thought I should probably get back to studying. But I figured that what I was doing now was also educational, as well as fun. So why not keep doing it? I decided that since I was basically floating, I might as well fly through the hallway.

I flew through the hallway and into some dark room that was kind of like some classical study in a mansion and a messy, suburban living room. My mom may have been sleeping on the couch.

There was a sliding glass door at the back of the room. It had a thin, light brown curtain on it. As I flew toward the door, I thought, I can only fly in my dreams. I thought, Well, I don't think I'm dreaming, even though I'm flying. But I thought, Well, if I'm dreaming, I should be able to go straight through the closed glass door. I should try.

So I flew at the door. I may have felt myself pushing through the curtain and the glass. I may have thought, Well, I guess I am dreaming.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in the backseat of a car full of people, probably women ranging from my age down to about 13. The driver may have been one of the girls' mothers, and she may have acted as a mother-figure for me as well.

I think I was going to an airport. But since I had a little time before I had to catch my flight, I was going to walk through the cemetery first.

A couple of girls had gotten out of the car to let me out. The car was a big, wide, 1970s-style sedan, probably pale beige colored. We stood in a dusty parking lot that felt like it was in the middle of a construction area, like for a small business park that was just being constructed.

I was now in a tall mansion, up in a room on the second or third floor, reading. I sat in a big, heavy wood chair at a big, heavy table made of dark wood. The room was small, crammed full of all kinds of books. The floors were probably some kind of dark wood. A decent amount of daylight came in through a window.

I looked up to see that one of the women (whom I recognize as a woman who works at a bookstore I frequent in waking life) was sitting across the table from me, reading. I was surprised that she had come to read as well.

Now a couple other girls bustled into the room. They said it was time for me to go to the airport. We left the room. We walked down a tight, steep stairwell.

I kept trying to ask the woman what book she had been reading. But the other women kept dissuading me, as if we didn't have time for me to ask such a question.

We were now outside the mansion, walking down a tight, narrow, stone staircase that ran from the porch, down a steep hill of lawn and past a tall stone wall, down to the curb where our car was.

As we descended beyond the stone wall, we passed a few cluttery stacks of old-looking books. I may have heard the woman who had been reading with me telling me (through telepathy?) things about the book she had been reading. Either she or I had been reading a book having something to do with Irish culture, possibly the Celtic aspect of it.