Blue_Opossum

Morning of April 5, 2017. Wednesday.



I am in an unfamiliar setting; a mostly featureless room that seems somewhat like a basement; that is implied to be either another world or an area near a portal where things can be pushed through to another location by teleportation. There is one other male present but I do most of the work. (The work I do in my dream is so physically realistic, my muscles feel tired upon waking and remain so.)

Firstly, I put a large wrapped ham on a square wooden table. There is a very large cardboard box, as high as my waist and about as wide as a doorway (and slightly wider than the table). We fill it with oranges in several stages. In the last stage, when I pour the last of the oranges in, they form an unlikely conical shape higher than the box height. However, I push them about so that they are soon even with the top, some of them falling into spaces near the corners. The event is otherwise very vivid and realistic, especially in touch and motion.

I am somewhat worried about what a challenge it might be to get the table and box (which are moved at the same time, the table in front while pushing the box) through the doorway portal. I somehow push them up a short flight of steps and through a doorway (though not the portal). After pushing them through a featureless room with a very vivid sense of physical effort, I learn that the destination is not nearly as far away, or as difficult to get to, as I first believed. The other male informs me that the doorway we need is just ahead (even though I had thought I might have to go through several other doorways and bigger flights of steps or even into a different building).

I soon am able to push the table and box full of oranges through a doorway into an unfamiliar classroom. It appears to be high school. The humanitarian work that the other male and I had done is known by at least a couple of the students and the unfamiliar male teacher and briefly discussed. I feel good about having done such a task.

Soon however, an unfamliar male student starts talking and asking the teacher questions about weapons of war, mentioning something about a missile. This annoys me somewhat and it seems like they are not really focused at all on what the other male and I had done. I do not say anything and soon wake.

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Morning of March 26, 2017. Sunday.



I am in a distorted scene where the main characters seem unknown, but could be implied to be versions of certain relatives, especially as I am in a variation of the Loomis Street house’s backyard. There is no fence on the south side as was in reality.

The neighbors to the south are in a house that is to the west a full house distance more (into what otherwise was the backyard) than the real location. The neighbors seem to be versions of neighbors I had in Florida as a boy but their daughter is not seen. However, I do hear the father and his supposed daughter arguing when I am outside at night (apparently when she is visiting, though she is much older than her parents, which makes no sense; that is, she is about fifty and the “father” seems in his thirties). Someone loudly says, “That is a really stupid thing to argue about”.

There is one scene where I am lying on my left side at the northwest corner of their house. It is still nighttime. The man comes out (from what seems to be the back door near the northeast corner of the house) and is oddly not angry at my imposition (though he still seems annoyed and seems to take on a somewhat sarcastic attitude). He throws a blanket on me and tells me to have a good night’s sleep, though more to himself as he thinks I am sleeping. After he goes back inside, I get up and go to the other backyard.

The main scene involves an unusual vegetation feature on the back of the Loomis Street house (to the left of the back door when outside). There are at least two large vines, one growing oranges and the other grapefruit. Mixed in with these dense plants are a large number of spiderwebs and many golden silk orb-weaver spiders, both adults and newly hatched.

A few people visit and say that I could probably sell the citrus fruits. I pick one and it has a lot of small bumps on it, the peel yellowish in spots. The rest do not seem fully ripe. The vegetation goes very high; up to the roof. I would need a ladder to get many of them. I get the impression that people would not want to buy them due to small spiders possibly being inside some of them, though mostly just under the peel. (Considering that I lived next to an orange grove for years, it seems unusual that my dream self thought of citrus as growing on vines.)

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