maboroshi

Good morning, everybody. Time seemed to be really weird in this dream. I tried to get it all down as well as I could.

Dream #1

I was out in a park on a sunny day, possibly with a small group of people. The park was a long, slightly sloped lawn, an asphalt path, and then another lawn which went up a ridge. The lawns were kind of yellowy, as if the grass hadn't gotten much rain.

At the top of the ridge was a row of trees. We had to pull out the trees. The trees were all small, and we had to get them out, all the way to the roots. We would then carry them down to a wheelbarrow on the path, where they would be carted away, maybe two or three at a time.

Suddenly, it seemed like the scene was going to start over again. My view was coming in toward the park, moving up toward the trees. There may have been another row of trees on the border of the park and, now, a row or two of trees lining the asphalt path.

Suddenly, it was like the scene started over again, and I was coming back into the park, like a disembodied viewer. Then the scene started all over again, but it was like I was watching the view on a little, boxy TV that stood on the floor in some dark room. This experience may have started all over again.

Now I was back in the park. I was on the asphalt path, which was lined, at least on one side, with trees, making the path shady. My brother was with my, just up the hill from the path. He wanted me to take a picture of him. I tried to take a picture of him, but my view was all blocked by the leafy branch of a tree, like a poplar or a callery pear.

I tried again to get a good shot of my brother. But now my view was of the hillside -- with me on it. I also saw my mother and her best friend, and possibly my brother. We were all standing kind of far apart from each other. I was walking down the hill. I was in shade, but a greenish light hit the underside of my left cheek, as if somehow reflecting the light of the green leafs in the sun. I managed to get a photo of this, as if I were also outside the scene.

I was now outside the park again. But this time I wasn't coming in. I stood on the outside, hiding behind a border of trees. I had, apparently, been sick for a long time, and I was just now coming back. I was afraid of the boss of whatever project this was that I was working on. But someone, maybe in my head, told me not to worry, just to approach the boss and be honest.

I was now going with my brother and a thin, old, kind of intelligent-looking man into some place which was supposed to be my office. The place looked like a storage shed, like in some dirt-lot complex of sheds that might be seen on the outskirts of a city.

We had to walk up steps to get into this trailer-like office. But there was no front wall. We just walked right in. Everything seemed to be made of wood: the floors, desks, walls, everything -- and the same kind of wood, like pale wood from an old backyard deck.

I had perhaps lost my job, possibly because the company I worked for had gone under. I was here with my brother and the old man to get my stuff. The old man seemed to know a lot more about this whole process than I did.

We went up to the right wall, where, as I was grabbing something, I may have passed out. I was then walking back up the steps and into the office. It was like I had been sick for a long time, and this was the first time I'd come back to the office since I'd gotten sick.

The old man and my brother were there to meet me. My older brother was looking around the office. The old man stood by the wall. I walked up to the old man. We were supposed to be doing something regarding cleaning up the office after my sickness.

I remembered an old man giving me some kind of little wooden box, which was like a matchbox. The old man had been sick, maybe even dying. I had been caring for him somehow, almost as if I were a doctor. I had been standing by the wall, and the old man had been laying on the floor. The last thing I remembered before getting sick was holding the box. Then I passed out.

The old man in the present time knew my memory. He told me we had to find that box. We found it instantly. It was a little wooden box about four centimeters in width and length and maybe 7 millimeters tall. It had a little interior which pushed in and out like a drawer, or like in a matchbox. But it also seemed not to do that, but to latch open and closed, like some kind of folder or briefcase.

The old man took the box from me. He told me we had to burn it. I had gotten sick and passed out, the old man said. But other people had died. There had been a plague, all through this office and in other places.

This box, the man told me, was the source of the infection. We needed to burn it. And we were going to burn this whole office down, too.

The old man and I, and possibly my brother, may have continued talking as we walked toward the other end of the office. We may have been planning to leave the office.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was part of some situation that was like a TV show. In the show, there was some guy, who was either a young man or a young man dressed up like an old man. As the young man, he may have been clean-cut and slightly effeminate, wearing some kind of plaid, Abercrombie-style shirt. As the young man made up as an old man, he had white hair and wore a black suit.

The man and I were with a few other people. The man started talking about how he was gay. I said it didn't matter to me whether he was gay. I said that I wasn't gay.

There was now a transition scene, maybe to a commercial. The transition scene showed a bunch of hot girls in spandex suits like exercise outfits doing some kind of hip-hop dance on a big, wooden platform, like the floor of a dance studio. But this "floor" was either elevated above buildings, on the roof of a building, or attached like a ledge to a building. The camera panned away, revealing a huge city.

I was now in a theatre. It was like the program I'd come to watch had finished. We were all leaving the theatre. There were only a few people left in the seats. I was up in the balcony. A female friend of mine stood to my right. Looking down to the stage area, I saw a big, wooden platform. It almost looked like a gigantic, wooden bed frame, with a tall, narrow mirror as the headboard.

I told my female friend, "That's what my sister wanted me to take a picture of! She'd told me she wanted a souvenir shot of the big bed from the show. I had no idea what she was talking about. But now I remember it!" I also remembered that the "big bed" was the platform the dancers had been on during the transition scene.

I pulled out a camera and started to take a picture. There were two girls, one in her early teens and one a bit younger, standing by the stage. The older girl wore a long, maroon sweater and a wool cap, and she had straight, black hair that flowed almost down to her waist.

Either as the dream ended or as I woke up, I thought it would be a good idea to ask the two girls to stand near the "big bed," so I could illustrate the size of the bed by using them as reference points.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was at my mom's house, which was in an apartment complex. A family living upstairs from my family was really noisy. It was really getting to the point where my family couldn't take it anymore.

We were all now down in an underground parking garage. The walls were really clean and white. The fluorescent light was kind of bright and really white.

Something had been done about the family upstairs. It was like the police had kicked them out.

Now we saw an old man from the family. He had grey-black hair and a big, grey-black mustache. His hair was really sloppily done. He had a pretty big belly, which his white polo shirt barely covered. He wasn't the father of the family. He was just a member of the family who should have moved out a long time ago.

He had come to ask my mom for some help. I told my mom to stay away from that guy. She had finally gotten free of him. Why would she let him back into her life? But my mom decided to help the guy.

The guy needed help on a test. When the police had kicked the man out of the house, they'd told him the only way he could come back was if he could pass a test with a lot of questions about American society and history. But the man couldn't understand most of the questions. So he was getting help from my mom.

Dream #2

I was in a bedroom. I'm pretty sure I was at someone else's, possibly my family's house. I was playing some kind of white Game Boy that had a clear purple case around it. Then I left the bedroom.

Before I'd left, I'd seen an upstairs neighbor, an old, black man with a really skinny bony face, pale skin and blonde-brown hair, peeking in the window at me, as if the bedroom were in a one-story house and not an apartment.

I came back to the bedroom. I realized that I'd left my Game Boy just sitting out on my bed, where it could be in plain view of the old man. I wanted to put it in a less visible place. But there was a girl standing in front of the door. She wouldn't let me in. She was a pretty, Latina girl in a colorful dress. I knew she was the old man's friend.

I pushed past the girl and went into the bedroom. The Game Boy was gone. Only the purple case was left. I walked into the living room, upset. The living room was like the one in my great-grandmother's old house.

Just as I walked into the living room, the old man walked in. He was grinning like he knew just what was going on. He was wearing some kind of suit, maybe beige or tan with a white or blue shirt. I yelled at him, "Where's my Game Boy?" But he just sat down in a chair and kept grinning, like I couldn't do anything to hurt him. I think I got really mad and shook him.

Dream #3

I got something in the mail that looked like a greeting card mixed with a letter-sized envelope. It opened on the long side, and it was supposed to be opened so that it flapped upward.

There was some printed information inside about how I'd been drafted into the Army. Below the printed information were two handwritten numbers, both long, and involving both letters and numbers. I think they each began with an A and a dash.

I hoped there was some way I could avoid being drafted. I thought, Well, I have a job already. Then I thought, No, I don't have a job. Well, I better get one quick.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a small, tight bedroom with three old, white men and one young, black man. I was sitting in a metal-framed dining chair. One old man sat to my right. Another old man sat to my left. The third old man and the young man stood off to my left, near the foot of the bed. My vision was largerly focused inward and downward, really close to my body.

The three old men were very rich. The young man and I were talking about working on a number of different projects for a company. There were at least three projects. The young man said that we should focus on the project that was something like an award ceremony, possibly for one key performer.

I kind of felt like this wasn't the right thing for us to be focusing on. The other two projects were more administrative. They actually dealt with problems, and they actually needed work.

My vision kind of drifted off, down really close to the floor and then toward an empty closet with open doors. I also had visions of photographs, like snapshots being laid one on top of the other, like in some TV show or commercial about traveling. Most of the snapshots had white borders, but some had pink borders. The photos may have been related to the projects the young man and I were discussing.

My vision came back to my body. I dropped photos on the floor. I stood up and then bent over at the waist, with straight legs, to grab the photos. I basically shoved my rear end in the face of the old man to my right. I could see my back side. I was kind of old and flabby somehow, and I was wearing slacks that were really nice but kind of baggy. Somehow I could also see my butt through the pants.

I sat down. The guy to my right was now acting really excited and nervous. We were all trying to talk about something, but the old man to my right was really too distracted to do so.

The young man somehow let me know that when I had shoved my rear end in the old man's face, I'd really turned him on. Now the old man couldn't think about anything other than having sex with me.

The young man let me know that I'd probably end up having to have sex with the old man now, if we wanted to get anything done with our business. The young man said, "Don't worry. I've had to do it before, too."

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A young version of Ozzy Osbourne reclined in a longish chair. The young Ozzy had long hair and a kind of big pot belly. Ozzy wore a long, white cotton dress that may have had a patch of black on it.

Ozzy either said or thought, "The greatest shall be least, and the least shall be greatest." He might have said this with my voice or thought it as if he were thinking it through my thoughts.

Dream #2

I was looking down to a baby that sat on the floor. The baby wore nothing but a diaper and may have been playing with some toys.

I looked up and saw that I was in a video store. The store kind of reminded me of a Hollywood Video in my hometown. There were rows and rows of shelves of videotapes. I was amazed at how huge the place was.

Dream #3

No vision. I had the thought, "I might take a book with me."

Dream #4

A black man stood before a reception desk in some kind of lobby. The desk and walls were designed to look like they were made of wood. But the color was so strange -- a kind of greyish, purplish brown that everything seemed to sink into. There may also have been a column of the same color near the desk.

A black woman sat behind the desk. She asked the man if she could help him. The man replied in a gentle, slightly high-pitched voice, "Service desk?"

Dream #5

I was in a room with a woman and a man. The room felt like a hotel room or meeting room. It was bright with natural light, which was probably yellowed by the room's fluorescent light. I sat in a wooden chair, like for a dining table. The woman sat off to my left, possibly sitting in a bigger chair or possibly even sitting on a small coffee table. The man sat on a couch that seemed to be made out of white leather.

I couldn't see the woman, although I think she was young, maybe in her 20s. The man was older, maybe in his late 50s. He was kind of short, but strong-looking. He had tough, tan, slightly wrinkled skin. He had white hair that was a little wiry, though it was arranged well. He wore khaki slacks, a navy blue blazer, and a pale blue dress shirt.

I had apparently been complaining to the man about something. He asked me if I wanted him to talk to ----- about it. I said no, that that didn't seem like the right person to talk to. It may have seemed like talking to that person may have struck me as making too big a deal out of the situation. But there was a different person I thought we could talk to.

The man was disappointed in me for not wanting to take his suggestion. Before I could even tell him about the other person, the man stood up out of the couch. I was standing as well. The man said, "Bah!" And shoved past me, heading out the door.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was on a subway with my friend H. We were riding above ground. It was night.

At some point we had had to switch trains. I missed the train, while H got on. I had to wait for a while to get another train.

I was then on the second train. We were high up above the ground, on some elevated platform that seemed to be a conjunction of a few different tracks, somewhere between stations. The tracks seemed to be on a floor of light beige or white plastic slats.

I got a call from H. She was at some cafe or restaurant. It may have been our original intention to eat there. But I might now have been much too delayed to meet her there. So she might have decided to eat there herself.

Dream #2

It was daytime. I had just come into a house. Outside, snow may have been covering the groud, although it was a sunny day.

I was in a huge room, which was like a mix between a living room and a study. There was a huge, wall-sized bookshelf along the left wall. There were nice chairs and couches everywhere.

I may have put something like a jacket down on the back of one of the chairs. I walked toward the back of the room, to a doorway on the left wall.

I apparently had to get to school. I had arrived home after doing something. Now I barely had time to take a shower and get dressed. Apparently the door I was walking toward was the door to a bedroom and bathroom.

But I stopped and stood right at the threshold of the door. I looked down, possibly to some book or piece of paper I was holding. I think it was a white piece of paper with sharp, scrawled writing on it in heavy, black lettering.

I felt like I didn't really need to go to school after all. I thought I would just take it easy at home. After I thought this I felt kind of guilty.

Not long after this another person may have come into the house. The person may have asked me when I was going to school. I was probably thinking of some way to skirt the question, not have to explicitly say I wasn't going to school.

Dream #3

I was in some dark room. I may have seen an old man or old woman walk past me. I follwed the person and found myself in a small theatre.

The theatre was all black. The seating area was three or four rows of moveable chairs set up on some tiered, wooden structure that had been painted black. There were two long aisles of chairs. I sat down in the front row, in the very far right.

The play was already running. The stage was just the floor, which was black, and black walls, with perhaps a black velvet curtain against the back wall. The only set piece was some kind of long sign, like a display of text for a museum, set up to run from about waist to head level on square, thin, black metal poles. Everything was lit with gentle incandescent lights.

An older woman stood in front of the sign. She had red hair and wore a long, slim, but flowing dress made out of some kind of crepe fabric. She looked a little like an older version of the mom in the 1970s version of Freaky Friday.

The woman may have given a speech and then left. Then the old man came in. He was healthy-looking, but very fat, with tough, tan skin, a bald head with grey-white hair on the sides and some rough, long sideburns. He wore a white toga that left his left shoulder bare.

Somehow I had gotten the idea that the man had killed the woman, possibly by stabbing her, but also by using some weird kind of remote technological device.

After the revelation that the man had killed the woman, there was an intermission. During the intermission I walked up to the sign-like set piece on the stage. I watched it really closely. It was like the sign was a video display playing a commercial. One image on the commercial was a red, eye-like object with grey wings, surrounded by darkness.

Apparently the second part of the play had begun. But it was now like a movie. The view was of a bedroom window, from the outside. The whole scene was lit in a deep blue light.
The old man climbed into the bedroom through the window. He was holding a knife with a 25cm, wavy blade. He crawled into bed with the woman. Apparently this was when he had stabbed her.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a bedroom. The bedroom was really messy, and it had two beds, both of which were strewn over with tons of blankets.

I was looking at a pad of paper which hinged at the top, like a gum-bound sketch pad. All the pages were filled in, but mostly with words and images like photographs, as if this were some kind of newspaper or underground magazine. The images were in black and white. A lot of the images were supposed to be pronographic, and I think they were meant to turn me on personally, as if to prove I was perverted.

One kind of badly printed, overexposed photo showed a girl lying stomach down on her bed. Her head was buried under blankets, but the rest of her body was visible. She wore a dark tank top, a mini-skirt, and a diaper. I thought the girl was an adult at first. But then I came to think she might be a little girl. I tried to look closer to see the photo.

To my right, on the other bed, a little girl lay stomach down, wearing a diaper, like in the photo. An old man either knelt by or sat on the bed. He was well dressed and had somewhat nicely arranged, grey hair. But he looked really scary, and his plae blue eyes seemed to be bugging out of his head. He kept poking the girl's bottom with his index finger.

My mother, or a woman my mother's age, may also have been in the room.

I looked back to the sketch pad, to try and find the photo. But I couldn't find it. I kept flipping through the pages. But I might only have seen a bunch of words. I heard some voice talking about the passage of time and how sad it is that we can't go back to what we used to be.

Dream #2

I was in a movie theatre, sitting on the left end of a right aisle, a few rows back from the front. I was all alone in the row. My brother and a couple other people his age sat in the row in front of me. The lights were on in the theatre. It was like one movie had just finished and we were now waiting for another to start.

A tiny, little girl with kind of long, messy-curly, blonde hair and wearing a long-sleeved, red shirt and a diaper asked if the seats to my right were free. I said yes. She may have asked something else, because my brother was standing up and giving all kinds of advice to the little girl.

The little girl sat in the seat right next to me. She grabbed my arm and cuddled against it. She said, "I'm so happy we get to sit with you. My mommy will be here in a second."

I felt like my brother was jealous that the little girl had completely ignored him while he was giving his advice, and that the girl was so excited to sit by me. I hoped it wouldn't cause him to have any emotional difficulties or outbursts. But my brother must have sat down with his friends.

Eventually the girl got kind of bored sitting by me. She hopped off the seat and tapped on the back of my brother's seat, as if she wanted to talk to him. Now I felt a little jealous.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was leaving "my mother's house." It may have been a grey day, and there may have been snow on the ground. I stood right outside the front door. My mom stood just inside.

I told my mom I loved her. I gave her a hug. My mom seemed really short. When I hugged her, it felt like I was breaking her spine, or like I had hugged her in such a way as to feel a part of her spine that had already been broken.

I walked to the car. As I did, I thought about a small cup of ice cream I had in the back seat of the car. It was like I still had the taste of the ice cream, or even some actual ice cream, in my mouth.

In my mind's eye, I saw the ice cream sitting in the back seat. The ice cream was kind of melted and creamy, and it had some kind of big, marshmallow-shaped, but colorful and jelly-like, things in it. The spoon in the cup seemed to be coated with the melted ice cream.

Apparently my grandmother was driving me to the airport. But the car we were taking was more like one my mom would drive. It was a small hatchback, kind of old looking. It was messy on the inside and the outside. The outside was kind of grimy and greasy. The inside was full of old garbage and fast food containers and stuff.

I was kind of disgusted that I'd kept my ice cream in the messy back seat. I thought it might not be a good idea for me to eat the ice cream.

I walked up to the driver's side of the car. My grandma was still standing outside the car, with the door wide open. As I walked up to my grandma I either thought to myself or asked out loud if I'd showed my mom well enough that I cared about her.

I was in the car, on the passenger side, riding through a kind of busy part of a suburban town, with either my grandma or some man driving the car. It was now black night.

The driver told me, "You showed your mom you cared about her. And the fact that you're worried about it shows that you care a lot more than a lot of people do nowadays."

We got stuck in traffic on some kind of quaint-looking, Main Street type area that was all decked out in lights, as if for Christmas. We kind of inched through the traffic and then ended up turning right on a side street and up a hill into something like a residential area.

As we were doing this, the driver, now most likely a man, continued, "That reminds me of a project I was reading about. People were making Christmas cards to send to the soldiers. But a lot of the people making the cards thought it would be good to send cards with anti-war messages on them.

"And that's what I mean about care. The people over there don't need to hear somebody telling them 'NO WAR.' They need us to tell them, 'We're thinking about you, and we hope you're doing well.'"

We had gotten up to the top of the hill and were now sitting on the right end of a long conference table. We were apparently inside a room. The room had fluorescent lighting. There was also a wall-sized bookshelf that I was looking straight at.

But it was also somehow like we were in a cafe with a big window, or as if we were actually floating out over the top of the hill, looking down to the Main Street area. It was like, even as I was looking straight at the bookshelf, I also saw the town below.

The man had gotten onto the topic of two books. Both books were about economics. One book was written by someone I didn't know. The other was written by Warren Buffett. The man seemed to be talking more about the book by the other guy. He then ended up talking about something extremely interesting and insightful (which, of course, I forgot).

As the man spoke about the really interesting stuff, I realized how nice he looked. He was white, with well-groomed, white hair. He wore a nice suit with a tan jacket, a subdued blue shirt, and a somewhat colorful (peach? pink?) tie. His skin was deeply tanned. His face was kind of thin and angular. But his complexion mesmerized me. It was perfect!

I then asked the man, "Who did you say made that comment? Did you say it was Warren Buffett or the other guy?"

The man said, "No. That was from Warren Buffett's new book."

I thought to myself that I needed to get Buffett's new book. I seemed to keep getting Buffett somehow confused with Alan Greenspan. But I could see the cover of Buffett's new book. It kind of looked like a modern cover of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man.

The book wasn't an autobiography. It was actually a book on economic theory. I thought, "This is exactly what I've been looking for!" The man and I spoke back and forth for a bit on how odd it was that everybody didn't know about this book. It apparently wasn't selling much at all.

I looked down and to my left. I could see the conference table. But, again, I could "see through" the table and the room, outside and down the hill, to the lit-up Main Street area.

As I looked at the table, I was kind of hunched down and over some sheet (or pad?) of notebook paper. I scrawled on the piece of paper, in a very sloppy version of cursive, either the word "Feed" or the word "Feel."

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A group of young men sat in a basement room like in some kind of church or school. The walls may have been red bricks. There were windows high up on the walls, letting in plenty of natural light.

The young men sat in a group of folding chairs arranged in a triangle near the left wall of the room. A group of older men entered the room. They sat inn a triangle of folding chairs opposite the men. I saw all this as if my eye level were at about seat-level with the chairs and as if I were between the two triangles of chairs.

The young men had apparently served during some war in the role of torturers. These young men had actually tortured the old men. But now the two groups were supposed to make peace and be friends.

One of the young men asked the old men a kind of silly question about art or movies. One old man didn't want to hear it. The old man was kind of short, with tough, tan skin, and thinning, grey-white hair. He wore a grey blazer and slacks and a maroon sweater. He began shouting at the young man, didn't he think anything he'd done was wrong?

I now got a good view of the young men for the first time. They all projected a feeling of being very beautiful, though they were all actually kind of plain looking. Yet this feeling of beauty also created a scary feeling of calm, methodical cruelty. The men all had books in their laps, different books, as if they had each been independently reading before the old men came in.

One of the young men, a tall, pale man with thick-rimmed glasses, frizzy, black hair, and stubble, and wearing a kind of loose, pudding-yellow sweater, asked the old man a question. The young man had a pencil, as if her were going to write notes in his book.

Somehow the old man and young man got into an argument that implied that now the old men had been the torturers while the young men had been tortured.

The young man asked, "Why did you gather all of us up? Why did you carry us away?"

The old man said, "Because you looked guilty."

The young man asked, "How could we look guilty?"

The old man said, "You know, your looks. You look like a certain type."

I may have figured in my dream or just waking up from my dream that the old man meant "the Jewish type."