• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. airplanes and swamp; in trouble at work

      by , 02-15-2012 at 02:58 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was probably with my mom and oldest nephew out on a road during the daytime. We were probably driving, but we weren't quite in a car. It was almost like we were walking down the road or on a moving platform. The road ran through a valley bordered on either side by a dense pine forest.

      The road was packed with cars. We were all headed, rather slowly, as if in procession, down the road. I probably knew that an airshow was going to start.

      Then planes began flying overhead, as if they were just heading over to the airshow, or warming up (?) for the airshow. Some of the planes were flying up from the road.

      The car behind us actually lifted up off the ground and flew into the air. The car was painted gold. At first it looked like a 1980s Camaro. But then it ended up looking like the flying car Luke Skywalker drives.

      But for some reason I was really excited to see the Camaro-like car flying. I called out to my mom at first. But then I saw one of the senior people at one of my old jobs, JS, walking down the road in the direction opposite the procession. So I called out to JS, partly to show her the flying car, and partly because I was so happy to see her again.

      JS may have been walking with a female friend of hers. The two women looked at me kind of sympathetically, like they thought I was crazy but they wanted to act like what I was saying was cool. We both kept walking our different ways.

      The road probably ended at some kind of swampy area. A lot of people stood out in the waters, looking out into a watery space columned by trees. Airplanes may have been flying through this space.

      I must have tried to go farther out into the water to get a closer view. But I only got a few steps out before the water got a lot deeper, probably up to my chest. This would be too deep for me to be comfortable watching the show. So I decided to walk back.

      But it was a little hard to get back. The soil I was walking on was really muddy and sticky, like in a swamp. But the water was crystal clear and never seemed to get dirtied by the water. I was having a hard time moving my legs through the mud.

      At some point I saw my second oldest nephew. He may have been standing up on dry ground, near some fence. He may have been kicking something around on the ground.

      I may eventually have gotten up on dry ground, or at least to a level of water where I could walk comfortably. But I was probably disappointed that I couldn't get out farther in the water. I may have thought that there was some open space out there where you could stand on dry ground and get a really good view of the planes.

      Dream #2

      I was at work. Everybody had an office. But the offices were more like dorm rooms. I was probably new to the job. I kept mistaking other people's offices for my own.

      At some point I went into an office the doorway of which was blocked by something like a couch. I fell over the couch and into the room. There were a bookshelf, a couch, and probably a desk, all arranged so that the room felt like a maze. On the ceiling was a piece of thin fabric with an orange background and a black, psychedelic mandala design.

      Everybody was looking into the room, kind of laughing at me because I had come into the wrong office. I was embarrassed and annoyed, and I tried to cover for myself by pretending that I'd meant to be here.

      I may then have ended up back in the hallway, which was small and dark, like some makeshift hallway in the basement of a house. I then ended up in the reception area, which was like an entire living room in a double-wide trailer home. The receptionist's desk was kind of out in the middle of the room.

      The receptionist was KB, the receptionist at my work. I sat near her desk, kind of behind her, in a small desk, like a little writing desk made for children. I felt like I was hiding behind KB.

      My boss JH came into the room and probably pointed out that I was hiding behind KB. He chuckled at me and said, "Don't you have your own office? Or, what happened to it?" I got the feeling he thought someone else had moved into my office.

      I tried to explain that I was only sitting here so I could learn something from KB. But then I was getting up and heading out of the office.

      But my boss called me back. He had a bunch of stuff in his hands. He said, "This kind of stuff is no good for the workplace. This is why I'm seriously thinking you might not be good for this job. I even think I found some porn in your office.

      "Look at this!" he said, showing me a painting on a canvas that must have been about 30cm long and 20cm wide. It was half-finished, with some edges of it in black and white, not colored in yet. The painting was apparently something I'd made.

      The painting was of the forearm of a person, maybe a young boy. The arm held some device that looked like a gold-colored, metallic spray-gun nozzle on a garden hose. But attached to its ends were a red, pump-like ball and a clear, little breathing apparatus.

      My boss JH said, "This was for your third oldest nephew, wasn't it? He uses it for his asthma. But kids nowadays -----." Something about what my boss said made me think he thought I was trying to glorify drug use by depicting this device.
    2. misbehavior march

      by , 02-01-2012 at 02:58 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I may have been in a meeting with people from one of my previous jobs. I had walked out of that meeting. I was now walking into something like a kitchen area for a restaurant, or maybe for something like the cafeteria of an elementary school or nursery.

      The kitchen was busy with people, and it was possibly humid and warm. Most of the people in the kitchen were kids. They seemed to be engaged in some project, like they were cooking together for some confidence-building exercise. Most of the kids seemed to be washing dishes, though, or playing around in the sink.

      There was a big set of wire-rack shelves right before the door, on the wall opposite the door. Before the racks, a higher-up woman from one of my old jobs, PD, was bending over, reaching for a plastic container of some kind of powdered food. PD looked a bit shorter and thinner, though she was still overweight. Her face also looked a bit too pale and dry.

      I feel like at this point all the kids may have gathered around me. They thought I was a fun guy to hang out with. I may have interacted with them a little more enthusiastically than I would otherwise have, though, since PD was around. I'd always kind of admired PD, so I wanted her to think highly of me. I thought she'd be impressed if she saw how good I was with kids.

      Somehow, though, I now needed to lead the kids out of the kitchen and through the next room, which was either like a classroom or a lobby in some school building. Although I was technically "leading" the kids, I was really in the middle of the crowd, surrounded by all the kids.

      I got the idea to get the kids started on a march. We would march and give a marching chant. The chant had the cadence of the "I don't know but I've been told" chant stereotypical of military marches. But I thought it would be funny to make a chant encouraging the children to misbehave.

      I would say the line, then the kids would repeat it. We chanted as we marched up toward the back, left corner of the room. I chanted, "These are the things that I do."

      The kids repeated, "These are the things that I do."

      "When I want to -----" (Go and play? Go outside? Go away?)

      "When I want to -----"





      "Running away."

      "Running away."

      At this moment, two of the older girls (maybe 11 or 12 years old) ran off to the left, just as we were approaching the door to the classroom. The girls seemed to run past a bookshelf, behind which stood two adult women.

      I decided I needed to follow the girls and bring them back. This may have been because I didn't want them to set a bad example for the class. But I think I also wanted to follow them because I was sexually attracted to them, and I wanted them to stay around me.

      I broke away from the rest of the group and followed the path of the girls. I ended up in some room where two slightly overweight, Latina women were sitting on couches. They were both discussing their bills and their debt. I may have felt like the women were similar to PD somehow.

      I saw one of the women's checks. The name on the check was Kerolos. Something about the name didn't make sense to me. Later on I saw another check. It seemed to have come to the woman from some business man. The name on this check was Carolos. This made more sense to me.
    3. moving out; movie discussion

      by , 12-30-2011 at 03:16 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was walking up the stairs in a fire escape stairwell in an office building. The walls were white and the light was either incandescent or a warm-feeling fluorescent. There may have been one or two people ahead of me, guiding me. One may have been a pretty, young woman.

      I was told something about the office where I was being taken. It had something to do with the difference between this place and my old office. I felt like probably nobody would even know me here.

      The door opened to the office floor. Colorful Christmas lights were glaring somewhere at the periphery of my vision. The two people guiding me either disappeared or walked really far away into the office.

      I was by myself in a corner of the office. It felt kind of like an elevator bank. But it was open to the rest of the office. I wasn't even sure why I was supposed to be in this office in the first place.

      A young man came up to greet me. I knew him! (I don't think I really know him IWL.) I was so relieved to know somebody.

      But the man didn't quite want to acknowledge that he recognized me, as well. Some people didn't like me, and the man didn't want to be seen by them as liking me. So he just treated me politely, but indifferently, like he'd treat anybody who came into the office.

      The man may have told me that my old boss would be here to meet with me momentarily. In the meantime, the man said, I could visit the museum on this floor. The man walked me to the wall behind me -- the wall with the doorway to the stairwell.

      Off to the left of the doorway was something that looked like a display. It was about the size of an animal display diorama in a museum.

      The "display" was of something like a space station. It looked fake, like one solid, plastic piece -- almost like a Star Wars toy! But some part of it, I knew, opened like a door. From there, you would walk into the museum. The museum would, I think, be about the size of a hallway, or the size of one exhibit room in a large museum.

      Off to the left of this "museum" was a long hallway. On the right wall of the hallway, from the waist up, were windows letting in a lot of yellow-white sunlight. The floor of the hallway was blue.

      I was now in "my apartment," which was rather large. The living area, which may have included the dining area, was three or four rooms long, with all the rooms opening into each other, only distinguished from another by the varying widths of their rectangles.

      The place was empty of furntiture. But there was stuff everywhere on the floor. Nothing was cluttered, and maybe everything had some kind of order. But it mostly felt like I just had all the stuff I liked just laying around everywhere.

      I'm not sure, but at this point, I think I looked like Lance Loud, from An American Family.

      (In this photo, Lance is standing, to the far right. The mother, Pat, is seated, in the center.)

      I had my phone to my ear, and maybe I was waiting for someone to pick up on the other end. I was looking down to the floor as I stepped over all the stuff I had laying around on the floor.

      I think I walked over some vinyl records, in their sleeves, and over a really old cassette tape player, the cassettes for which were bigger than eight-track tape cassettes.

      I probably started thinking about music. I thought of something that I really wanted to hear. I was going to play it. The music may now already have been playing. I still had the phone to my ear.

      But suddenly I realized -- I'm almost all out of money! It's totally wrong for me to stay in this place with no money. I can't sit here listening to music. I need to get all my stuff reduced and organized, so I can get the hell out of here!

      I may now have started putting together a plan for how to throw out a bunch of useless papers I didn't need, so I'd have less stuff to take with me once I left this place.

      I was now in a house which was supposed to be the Loud family house. At this point I definitely looked like Lance Loud. The house had two stories. I was up on the second floor, in a bedroom which had been converted into an office.

      I wasn't a member of the family. I was like a friend of some member of the family. But I had also been doing some kind of work for them. I had had tough times, and I needed to stay at their house. I think I had been staying at the house a couple of days, but now I was getting ready to leave.

      Pat, the mom from An American Family, came into the room. I was reclined -- somehow -- either against an office chair and some small filing cabinets, or on a bed.

      Pat sat down on something and told me that she knew I was planning on leaving the house. But she said she didn't think I actually had enough money yet to go out on my own. She said she was going to talk with the rest of the family about seeing whether I couldn't stay here a little while longer.

      Pat stood up and left. I looked through the doorway. There was a short, balcony-like hallway, with the stairs on the end closer to me. Again, I'm pretty sure I saw the colorful glare of Christmas lights somewhere.

      I was kind of relieved that Pat had asked me to stay. But I knew that I couldn't accept the offer, anyway. I didn't want any of the manlier men in the family to think I was just being a waste by sticking around here. I knew that if Pat made a good case for me, none of the men would say anything to my face. But I'd always have to deal with them showing me how they felt in other ways.

      I figured that what I would do, then, if Pat got the okay for me to stay, was just act like I was going to stay here, after all. Then, when nobody was looking, probably when everybody was gone from the house or asleep at night, I'd just pack up all my stuff and sneak out, leaving a letter saying why I'd gone.

      Dream #2

      I was walking down the hallway of some movie theatre. I was in a huge line either for tickets or to get into the theatre itself. The wall to my left was just a plain, beige-colored wall, possibly with some kind of wallpaper that looked like thickly-threaded linen.

      To my right was a wall that occasionally had narrow, tall windows, letting in the grey light of late afternoon. There were also occasional arcade games positioned along this wall. And somewhere there was a feeling of faint, flashing, multi-colored lights.

      There were a couple of people, probably a man and a woman, directly ahead of me, talking about a movie. The woman was doing most of the talking, and she sounded kind of arrogant and pretentious.

      Apparently the film the woman was talking about was a short film. The woman was speaking about the director of the film. The director may also have been a character in the film -- a comic kind of character who, even though he wasn't the main character, was supposed to "steal the show."

      I may have had an image of this guy in my head. He may have been a white guy, kind of rich-looking, wearing a really garish, multi-colored tuxedo, and a hat that looked either like a wizard's hat or a dunce cap, which was also multi-colored.

      I then looked off to my right, to a part of the right wall of the hallway that bent diagonally toward us, making the hallway narrower. On the sloping part of the wall was a poster for the movie the woman had just been talking about. The man was on the front, in his costume. He may have been waist-deep in popcorn.

      I realized that the film wasn't a short film. It was feature-length. And it was the film we were all heading in to see (or buying tickets for?) right now.

      I had been telling myself that I really didn't want to see the movie. I really didn't like the director. But now that I'd seen the poster, and now that I realized the movie was feature-length, I decided that I actually would like to see it.
    4. old boss and old friends; movie director and shower; sister and shower

      by , 12-16-2011 at 02:59 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in a dark restaurant. The restaurant had a lot of small, black, two-person tables in the main area. I sat at a table there. Off to my left there were some bigger booth tables. Multicolored neon lights seemed to reflect off many of the dark surfaces in the bar.

      The two-person seating area was pretty full. A business man sat next to me, at the table to my right. He may have been Asian American, maybe in his late thirties or early forties. He wore square glasses and a kind of plain suit. He had a gentle, easygoing, but mature-sounding voice.

      The man asked me why I had left my previous job. I began to list off a whole bunch of complaints about my former boss. The complaints just got worse and worse, and I just got more and more agitated as I listed them. I think the main complaint was that my boss wanted me out of the office, and that he just neglected me and tortured me until I left.

      I now noticed that my boss was sitting up in one of the booths off to my left. Red, white, and green light was playing off his face, like a rotating neon sign (or a barber shop pole) was shining on him.

      My boss was sliding a grey iPad back into a case. It was almost like the iPad was the thickness of a VCR cassette and that the iPad case was like a VCR cassette sleeve.

      I could tell that my boss had heard everything I'd said about him. I was a little ashamed of myself for having spoken bad about him. But I was also glad that he'd heard it. I hoped that it would sink in somehow, and that he'd feel bad.

      But I also felt bad for complaining. The business man may have been thinking about hiring me. Now that I'd complained so much, maybe he just thought I wouldn't be a good employee.

      My boss was now standing just beside me, on my left. He said, "Hey, I need to talk to you for a second."

      I stood up with him and walked toward the center of the restaurant. There was a wide pillar there, around which was a chest-high counter that had a bunch of computer screens (maybe cash registers?) on it. My boss stopped there and spoke to me.

      He said "You know, I've been getting the feeling lately that you think I didn't treat you right while you were working for me. And that's just not true. I have a feeling you've been telling people stuff like that. And I really don't want you to."

      The way he was saying all this made it sound like he had just come to these conclusions all by himself -- like he hadn't heard me speaking at all just now, and the idea had just popped into his head. I knew he was just trying to impress me by making himself sound insightful enough to guess my moves. But I'd seen him listening to my conversation.

      I told my boss, "I saw you sitting there, listening to everything I said! I knew you were there, and that's why I said it! I'm not sorry I said it! You treated me like garbage while I was there!"

      (EDIT: I forgot to say that there was also some point where I was even making fun of my boss' voice, doing some kind of high-pitched, flat squealing, with a sheep-like, bleating rhythm. I may have been standing or crouching over my boss while he was laying on the ground. I may even have had his left (?) arm pinned to the ground.)

      I was now standing out near the dugout of a baseball field in a park. I was with my boss momentarily, still yelling at him. But my boss eventually changed into my old friend R.

      We were actually standing with a group of people, maybe twelve or fifteen of us, all straggled out along a fence that went along from third base to home plate. R and I were standing just beyond third base. At this point, the fence was separated from the diamond by about twenty meters of lawn, and it went up a small slope.

      I knew that I had been yelling at R just like I had been yelling at my old boss. But suddenly I felt like R was in control of something in my life. I didn't like R very much, but I felt like I should apologize to him and be nice to him, so that he would stop controlling whatever it was he was controlling in my life, and make things okay for me again.

      There had been a little bit of a game going on on the ball field, a game between two semi-competitive teams, maybe teams of little kids. But now the kids were all just milling around the field, clearing off the field.

      There was some sort of ceremony that was now being held on home plate. A kind of tall, kind of fat, bald man in a grey suit, white shirt, and reddish tie was presenting somebody to give a speech. The person was another old friend of mine, E.

      I only heard one particular phrase from E's speech. I can't remember what it was. But it struck me as attempting to be "folksy," something that would be understood by and sympathized with by all the "common people" around him.

      I was kind of sickened by this. When I'd first met E, he was a kind of intellectual guy. He struck me as being a genuinely good person. But the older he got, the more he enjoyed cheating and taunting people. But he still tried to carry off the act of being a good guy. By now, it was all just a horrible charade to anybody who knew him. And his speech was an awful example of it.

      Nevertheless, when E finished his speech, I went after him, to go talk to him. I figured that since he'd done something important like give a speech, and be introduced by a man in a suit, that he might be an important guy now. He might be able to help me out in my own difficulties.

      E walked over toward the fence, toward a section closer to home plate. I hurried down toward him. I may have reached him and started talking to him, in a really shameful kiss-up kind of way.

      Dream #2

      I was in some place like a house or a mansion. I was in what looked like a big living room. But I may have been sitting on the left edge of a bed. The room was all made of dark wood. There were no lights on. But a lot of natural light was coming through a doorway, probably a wide doorway into a bathroom.

      The bed didn't have any blankets on it, just a white sheet around the mattress and a white sheet over that. The bed may actually have been a hide-a-bed, the kind that pulls out from under the cushions of a couch.

      Just off to my right, a guy stood talking. It was as if he were in a commercial, or in some kind of "special features" style mini-documentary for a movie. He, and everything around him, had a gauzy haze, like I was already watching the documentary, and the view from the camera lens, which was in some kind of soft focus.

      The guy was some famous director. He looked like he was from the late 1970s or early 1980s. He was kind of skinny, with hair down just below his shoulders. He wore roundish, black-rimmed glasses and some kind of nerdy-looking suit.

      The director had a kind of high, but full voice, so everything he said sounded a little pompous, and a little more like singing than talking.

      The director was talking about his future plans. But he didn't really seem to have any. He may have mentioned that he'd done a lot of work already, and that he now planned to just spend time with his family, to re-charge a little.

      The director said that the thing that ruined a lot of creative people nowadays was letting themselves get too overrun by taking on too many tasks. Their work was cheapened, and the artists would get burnt out. The director said that he was going to try not to let this happen to him.

      I stood up and walked toward the bathroom, still hearing the director, as if he were speaking directly into my head. The director may have started talking about the French filmmaker Francois Truffaut's career as an example of burning out. I may have seen some black and white photos of Truffaut, intercut with solid views of lavender color.

      I now stood in the bathroom, looking down into the bathtub. I was thinking of taking a shower. But there was a little reddish dirt or grime ringing the side of the tub and dusting up the floor of it.

      I was kind of grossed out by this. I wondered how a bathtub could be so poorly taken care of in such a rich house as this. I may have thought I'd clean the tub. But I also may have thought that I just wouldn't take a shower.

      Dream #3

      I was in a house with my sister. I was in the living room, and my sister was in the kitchen. Both rooms were small, so even though we were in two rooms, it felt like we were hanging out together. The living room had no lights on, but light came into it through the kitchen.

      I had been sitting on the couch, probably watching a movie on a TV that stood on an entertainment center just off to my left. But now I stood up and walked into the kitchen. My sister was sitting at the kitchen table, doing something -- maybe writing, or coloring in a coloring book, or doing something on her phone.

      At some point my sister may have turned into a blonde girl I knew in high school, though she may have been college-aged.

      I told my sister that I was going to take a shower. She said okay. But she then mumbled something about the university I'd attended. I didn't understand what my sister had said. So I asked her to say it again. Again my sister just quickly mumbled something about the university I'd attended.

      It was like my sister was giving me news about the university. But it was more like she was sharing her reactions to the news with me. She already expected me to know what the news was. And if I didn't know the news, she would just figure I was pretty stupid.

      This was even more the case -- at least in my mind -- because my sister had been told the news by a man that she was attracted to.

      This man was maybe ten years older than I. He was big and strong and probably involved in business in some way or another. If this man could outdo me with his knowledge, through my sister, my sister -- I thought -- would feel like she didn't need to respect me, or even treat me nicely, anymore.

      So after I'd determined that my sister had really mentioned something about news regarding the university I'd attended, I just said something really non-committal, like, "Yeah, it's pretty crazy, right? I can't believe it," and then walked to the shower.

      I walked down the dim hallway and into the dark bathroom. I didn't turn any lights on. I closed the door. I must have stripped out of my clothes, too. I now figured I would look at my phone, try to get whatever news I could about my old university, and, while I was showering, think up some responses to give my sister.

      When I turned on the news, though, I found a web page that said that the house of famous actress Barbara Steele had caught fire. Apparently Barbara Steele (an actress famous for her roles in Federico Fellini's 8 1/2 and David Cronenberg's Shivers) nowadays lived in my old university town.

      The news article showed a picture of Steele's house. But the photo was from the roof of the house. The roof, actually, took up almost all the photo. And the main focus of the photo seemed to be a small array of solar panels that now seemed to be sinking down through the roof.

      There may also have been snow on the roof, and there were a few men on the roof, apparently in the middle of putting out the fire. The house seemed like it was just a regular, suburban house in a regular, suburban neighborhood, not a big mansion one would expect a movie star to live in.

      The news article said that Barbara Steele had been in the fire, and that she'd been rushed to the hospital. It seemed to imply that she'd died. But I couldn't really determine whether that was true.

      I figured this must have been the article my sister had been talking about. My sister would know how much I loved Barbara Steele. So she probably would have wanted to discuss with me any news she'd heard about her. I started thinking of responses to give my sister about the article.

      But now I could hear (and maybe even see, in my mind's eye) my sister and the older man talking with each other. My sister was telling the older man that I seeemed to be going through some sort of difficulty. My sister even seemed to imply that I'd lost or was lacking something, as if the older man might help me get a replacement.

      I was a little upset that my sister had told the man all of this, especially since my sister and the older man already seemed to be planning with each other how they could make me feel less intelligent than they were.

      But I was also relieved. I knew I was missing something. And maybe the man could help me find it. I figured that once I got out of the shower I'd approach the man very humbly and ask him to help me.

      But now I saw a strange image. It was a cartoon, or a comic book. A little girl had knocked on a door (her own front door?). A man, maybe the girl's dad, had answered the door. The man let his wife know that the girl was at the door.

      But something about what the man said made me realize that the man and girl were going to have sex. They had probably already had sex in the past. It was like the man and the little girl were in love with each other.

      Updated 12-16-2011 at 03:10 PM by 37466 (added edit paragraph in dream #1)

    5. laying wetwall

      by , 12-03-2011 at 02:15 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was somewhere with a boss I worked for IWL until 2009. He might have been talking to me about coming back to work for him.

      I was then in another room, maybe the next room over from where I was with my old boss. The room was kind of unfinished. The floors may have been grey concrete. The walls may have been bare drywall.

      There was a beautiful woman, maybe in her late twenties, off to my left. She may have been leaning her back against a wall. Off to her right there was a window.

      The woman may have been considering whether to give me a job. As part of showing the woman my qualifications, I was lifting a piece of drywall onto the wall in front of me. I was setting it into a framing of widely-spaced brackets. The brackets were like copper-colored nails with their ends bent up at 90-degree angles.

      I wasn't actually, for myself, completing this task in order to get the job, even though I knew the woman was trying to determine whether she wanted me for the job. And I didn't want my old boss to think that I was going for this job. If he did think that, I believed, he'd start messing around and playing mind games with me.

      I suddenly noticed, as I lifted the sheet of drywall, that I was naked. My penis was erect, and it must have been touching against the drywall, which hurt.

      Now, instead of lifting a piece of drywall into the frame, I was lifting a white, drywall-sized towel into the frame. The towel was soaking wet. I wasn't sure how I was going to be able to get this towel into the frame. It was supposed to go into the frame just like the drywall would.

      I spent a while justifying the possibility of a limp, wet towel doing something like this. Eventually I could even see the limp wet towel in my mind's eye, acting just like a hard sheet of drywall.

      Updated 12-03-2011 at 03:11 PM by 37466 (changed "edges bent up" to "ends bent up")

    6. working from home; working on bed; grandfather drives

      by , 11-03-2011 at 03:07 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in the living room of a really nice apartment, sitting on the couch with a really pretty Indian woman. The couch and floor may have been white. There was an entertainment center just across the floor from the couch.

      The woman was showing me something on the screen. The screen was black, but divided into sections by white lines. There may have been six sections. In each section were a few letters and numbers. The screen would occasionally pull down.

      The woman was showing me this, but I was actually controlling it, using either a keyboard or a joystick. I realized this was some sort of data processing system that was connected to a company's database. People could work from home, from their TVs, by entering data for this database.

      As the woman stood up and walked toward the dining room, off to our left, I told the woman, "I always thought this would be a good idea."

      The dining room was gone. A window was in its place. And it was like I was in a house rather than an apartment. The woman was just outside the window. I stood up and walked to the window.

      I continued, "In fact, I've always thought working from home would be the way a lot of people worked, eventually. I was thinking of writing a science fiction story about it, where everybody works from home, on their computers."

      The woman stood out in an area full of trees. She may have kept moving farther and farther back -- without walking, until she had disappeared in the trees altogether. But I was still talking to her.

      I continued, "Everything -- the world, gets greener again. The population rate goes down. But people are happier. So many things are controlled by robots. And a lot of people work from home."

      Now I was looking out the window to a normal suburban front yard. Two of my old friends, M (a man) and P (a woman) walked up to the window, which was maybe a meter or so higher than their heads.

      M told me he and P were going somewhere. When they were done they'd come back and pick me up to take me to the airport so I could go back home. I was a little panicked. I said that my flight was probably leaving pretty soon. I needed to get to the airport.

      M told me not to worry. Besides, M told me, I had some task to take care of, possibly involving a car, and that I wouldn't be able to leave until I took care of that, anyway. M asked me for the car keys so he and P could leave. I gave them to him.

      M and P were gone. I walked out of this house through a door opposite the window. I walked through another yard that looked like a front yard and up into the front door of another house. This was my mom's house.

      My mom was just inside, sitting at a table in front of the front window. When she saw me she stood up and started walking through the living room. There was a couch set right in the center of the living room. My mom started telling me something. But I can't remember what it was.

      Dream #2

      I was in a bedroom. The room was dim and blue. I had been listening to some conference call and taking handwritten notes on notebook paper. I may have been at a desk. But now the call was over.

      I heared a kind of squeaky-raspy voice from another room. I had been looking off to my left. But now I looked over to my right, to the door of the bedroom. A beige-orange light came from under the crack of the door.

      The voice said a few things. Then the person got up, apparently from a room behind me, and left, walking away down the hallway that was just outside the door. I now realized I was sitting on the floor, using a bed as a desk.

      I understood that I had left my job. This was the office for my job. For some reason I was back -- maybe just to help out on a short-term project, maybe just for one day.

      The guy the squeaky voice had been the guy who'd replaced me. It was 5 PM, and the guy was leaving. This, I thought, was kind of lazy, since there was still a ton of work to do. I thought that maybe I'd impress my boss by staying for a long time tonight.

      But, right while I was lost in this thought, my boss burst in the door. I must have looked like I was just doing nothing. My boss rushed up to my bed-desk and began flipping through my notebooks.

      I knew I had just taken notes on some conference call. I wanted my boss to see the notes. But now he wasn't finding them. Instead he flipped to a page I'd made of sketches of the famous cartoon character Strongbad.

      My boss pointed to one of the drawings and said, "I want to see less of this," as if he thought all I did all day was draw sketches of strongbad. He actually even flipped to another page that was also full of Strongbad sketches!

      I was trying to figure out how I could explain this to my boss. I did a lot of work. But sometimes, while I was listening to calls or trying to think through a problem, I'd start sketching.

      Dream #3

      I was pulling a car I had (when I was in high school!) out of a long driveway for a house set up at the end of a long, gated yard. When I got to the end of the driveway, I had to close the gate. I pulled off to the side of the road and got out of the car. I was also thinking something about the difficulty of driving backward.

      When I got out of the car, my sister was there. She told me, "Don't forget, while you're taking care of the car, to wash the back windows. That's really important, and C (one of my old friends) did it all the time."

      I told my sister, "I was just planning on doing that once I got home." Apparently I was planning on taking my car back home after visiting my family -- although I was also planning on taking a plane home.

      I was now in the living room of a house with my mom, grandpa, and probably some of the other members of my immediate family. My grandpa and mom were standing. My grandpa was getting ready to leave.

      I was going back to my car as well. My grandpa was going to drive me. So we left the house together.

      It was dark outside. My mom stood in the doorway. We were in a long block full of houses, possibly with some kind of median in the center of the wide road. My grandpa's car was parked halfway up on and off of this median.

      My grandpa and I got in the car. My door was still open, and I was holding on to some kind of hard door-strap, as if I were going to pull the door shut.

      My grandpa said, "I didn't invite you guys to my house because I didn't know what schemes your mom might have. She could sue me because on of the kids suffocated themselves on the floor or one of the kids suffocated themselves on the ceiling."
    7. stolen chairs

      by , 10-25-2011 at 02:19 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in a room like a preschool classroom, although the room was supposed to be an office. The room was dark, except for the glow of a TV, which I was sitting on the floor and watching, (though my view seems to have been from slightly outside my body). The room seemed pretty empty -- no desks or tables; just chairs and short bookcases lining the walls.

      Someone came into the room and pulled one of the chairs out of the room. The person was all in shadow, but he seemed to me to have been a young, male office worker. The chair he pulled out was an office- style swivel-chair. All the chairs in the room may have been like that.

      I knew the guy wasn't supposed to take the chairs. And I knew he knew it. He basically just wanted to steal. But I was too afraid to stand up to him and stop him.

      Now I was in the room with "my co-workers." The lights were on in the room, and there were desks in the room. But there weren't enough chairs for all the desks. In fact, there were hardly any chairs at all.

      The boss (I think) said, "Someone from another office has been stealing our chairs! How the hell are we all gonna sit down?"

      I knew who stole at least one of our chairs. But I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want to betray that I'd been too afraid to stand up to the guy.

      So now I and another guy were going out looking for chairs. The boss had told us, I "knew," that we should go to all the rooms in this building. And room that looked like it had way more chairs than it needed had obviously been stealing chairs from us. So we were to "take the chairs back" out of that room and to our room.

      The man and I wandered through the hallways, which were kind of narrow, short, and grey. We went into some smaller rooms, which were apparently multi-office rooms or single offices. Some of them looked like classrooms.

      Then we ended up in a pretty big conference room. The room was dark, with our only light coming in through the hallway. The room was empty, with just a few school desks and chairs here and there, overturned, not in any real order. But it looked like there weren't more chairs than desks, so we couldn't take chairs from this room.

      But being in the conference room made me think. If the man searching with me thought we should be looking in conference rooms for chairs, then we should probably be looking in the conference room closest to our office. Something about the way the guy had stolen the chair had made me think he wouldn't go far with it.

      In my excitement at thinking I knew where we should go, I gasped a bit and lifted my left arm up, almost like I was raising my hand to ask a question in class. I then put my hand to my lips. I said, "We should go to the..."

      But I had to strain to remember the name of the conference room. Finally I got it. I said, "We should go to the Goshen Room!"

      The man said, "That's right! I was just about to say the same thing!"

      We were now in the Goshen Room. There were chairs all over the place, as well as school desks. Everything was overturned and disordered. But it seemed pretty obvious that there were too many chairs in here.

      The man spoke to me (although I seemed to be seeing from his viewpoint) as if we were looking at a grisly murder scene. He said, "Go. Get the others from the office. We need to gather the chairs quick. These people will be back soon."

      The man himself now seemed to have been heading for the door, to get the other people from the office. I was deeper in the room, looking at the chairs. The swivel-chairs' seats had been completely unscrewed from their bases, kind of like a bolt screwing into a hole, or a bottle cap screwing onto a plastic bottle top.

      I stood staring at a few swivel chair bases. I figured we'd all have to carry this stuff back to our office in awkward armfuls, then screw everything back together there. I wondered if we'd be able to get everything of ours back to the office, and if we'd be able to put it all back together.
    8. shot in the chest; incongruent noise; sharing company ideas

      by , 09-25-2011 at 02:24 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in a "Quentin Tarantino movie." I think it was supposed to be like Inglourious Basterds, like in the final scene between the young man and the young woman in the film booth.

      I was some kind of spy. I may have been a man in my forties, with a big, curly moustache. I may have a tiny bit overweight, and I may have been wearing an overcoat and a fedora.

      I was sneaking through some building, trying to find and kill some woman, but also trying to escape her so she couldn't kill me. I went through a series of rooms like rooms in a mansion, even though this building was a multi-floor building, like some kind of museum.

      I eventually found the woman working in a room like a film booth. The woman had her back turned to me. I may have been supposed to kill her. But I suddenly realized that I had to get out of here before she noticed me and started chasing me, to kill me.

      I knew that there really wasn't any way out of this building, or at least no secret way that the woman wouldn't be able to get to long before I did. But I still went running away through the building, not looking for a way out, necessarily, but at least looking for a way to put distance between me and the woman.

      But, for some reason, I almost purposely walked myself into a series of rooms that weren't just a dead end, but were a very short series of dead ends. I walked through one bedroom-like area, well-lit with natural light, then down a case of red-carpeted stairs. I ended up in a very small bathroom.

      The bathroom barely had enough space for me to turn around in. The light was dim and incandescent, and most of the room seemed to be coated in yellow-beige tiles that faded into a dark brown at their edges. There was also a turquoise-colored towel.

      I knew I had absolutely walked myself directly into a dead end. I knew the woman would catch up to me any time now. Yet I thought I would hide in the bathroom forever, or until the woman had gotten past me.

      I knew that wouldn't work, though, and that the woman could easily find me. I just decided to leave the bathroom and face the woman.

      I walked out of the bathroom. About halfway up the steps I noticed that the woman was standing over the top of the steps, off to their side, leaning over a waist-high railing bordering the staircase.

      The woman looked young, maybe in her early twenties. She was pale skinned, with an oval-shaped, soft face. She had light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, pale blue eyes, and eyeglasses. She wore a green sweater and blue jeans. She actually seemed kind of nice and nerdy. But she was levelling a pistol at me.

      At first, out of fear from having the gun pointing straight at me, I backed down a couple steps, like I was going back to the bathroom. But I realized that everything was over for me, and that I should at least be brave enough to face my fate. So I started walking back up the steps.

      The woman seemed ready to shoot me. She didn't really want to wait until I got up the steps. She said, "Where do you want it? In the stomach?" She pointed the gun toward me stomach. "Or in the chest?" She pointed the gun toward my chest.

      For some reason I "kind of" thought about my back, and how I thought the most efficiently killing shot would be one that went through "my back." But I couldn't quite get the concept of "my back" through my head. But I did think that my chest was close enough to "my back" to give me a pretty efficient death.

      I told the woman to go ahead and shoot me in the chest. So she levelled the gun at my chest. I spread my chest out, so I could take the shot bravely, hopefully without flinching.

      The woman shot me. I flew up into the air. I may have been falling down the stairs. But it really felt like I was just floating in the air, in a kind of "laying on my back" position, except with my head and maybe my legs bowed down a little bit, so I wasn't completely flat.

      The woman said, "Well, that's all over, then. Thanks for being so cooperative about letting me get this over with!" She cheerfully walked toward the exit of the room.

      I replied, "Oh, no problem. Thanks for being so nice and giving me a choice of where I could be shot."

      Dream #2

      I was standing in a hallway of a house. The house was kind of short, just a little alcove really, between a few rooms and the living room. The hallway was lit with incandescent light. To my right was the living room. The living room wasn't lit at all.

      I was examining some papers in my hands when I heard some weird noises. It was like jangling glass and metal, like people were shuffling some stuff around or breaking stuff. But it sounded a little bit far away, like maybe one or two rooms separated from the living room.

      I wondered if someone was breaking into this house. I was kind of afraid to go check, even though I knew I'd probably have to.

      But then I looked out into the living room, to a computer out on a desk. The computer was playing some kind of show or visual program. It looked like a bunch of papers shuffling around on some kind of classical desk.

      I could now tell that the sounds were coming from the computer. It seemed kind of weird to me that the visual program of papers shuffling on a desk would be accompanied by the sound of glass breaking and metal bars jangling and shuffling around.

      But I think I figured that if I got closer to the computer, to see what the visual program was really all about, it would probably all make a lot more sense to me.

      Dream #3

      I sat in something like a conference room, at the right side a long, oval or rectangular table. I sat positioned directly across the table from the door into the conference room. To my left sat a woman who kind of looked like Camille Paglia, except taller and heavier.

      The woman's hair was in a really bad fashion, about six inches long, but feathered all around her head like a bowl. She was probably wearing a terrible outfit -- some kind of circus-peanuts-orange blouse, a silver pendant with a black stone in the middle of it, and some kind of chunky, tweed skirt.

      I had at least one notebook and a bunch of papers. I was sharing ideas about companies with the woman. I don't think the woman worked with corporations. But I think she worked a lot with ideas in general. So I wanted to throw my ideas about companies out to her as being just about ideas in general.

      Suddenly a tall, overweight, pale, bald businessman came walking into the room. He was apparently my boss -- even though I didn't have a job anymore. The woman left for some reason or another. The man eyed the woman and me with jealousy.

      I felt like I shouldn't have been sharing my ideas with this woman. Instead, I should have been sharing them with my boss (or ex-boss). I got all sheepish, panicky, and stuttery. I stood out of my chair and pulled up one of my notebooks.

      I told my (ex-)boss, "Y--y--you see, I was just talking to her about Lockheed Martin. You see, I've pulled some ideas together about the company." (I may have said "LMT," and not "Lockheed Martin.")

      When I mentioned Lockheed Martin, the man made a kind of impressed, humming-grunting sound. Encouraged, I went on. I flipped through a few pages in my notebook, explaining some stuff about Lockheed Martin that I don't remember at all anymore.

      Most of the pages were written in black ink. But I got to one page where I'd written on three themes regarding "LMT." Each theme was written in a different color. There was a red section, then a blue section, then a green section.

      Each section was separated from the next by a line, which may have had the title for the next section or theme. This line may have always been written in red ink.

      Updated 09-25-2011 at 02:27 PM by 37466 (Not sure how I managed to spell "absolutely" as "abasutely.")

    9. nose-bugs in wonderland; flooded power plant; laruku concerts; murderous boss

      by , 09-08-2011 at 01:40 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I stood before a group of people including Alice Liddell and Xie Kitchin. Alice and Xie stood on either side of something like a tree, although the tree was probably indoors. Something like an old scroll-sign may have been posted to the tree, and there may have been a staircase leading up to the tree. A few other people were around Alice and Xie, possibly including Lewis Carroll.

      Either I or Lewis Carroll had brought gifts for Alice and Xie. The gifts were in thin, plastic bags, like the kind you might get at a bookstore. Caroll had given the gift to Xie with some amount of ceremony, but had neglected the same kind of presentation with Alice.

      Caroll may have given Alice her present first, then given Xie her present. But he now rushed back over to Alice. He may have thought it was too late for making a presentation. So he may not have done much of anything at all. Both girls' gift-bags were lying at their feet.

      Now Alice was walking around by herself in a space that was like a small path in a forest, except inside something like a mall. In fact, the "forest path" area was occasionally so narrow that it was like Alice was simply walking on the edge of some planter, right in the middle of a shopping mall's corridor.

      As all this went on, Lewis Carroll went on to tell a story about how Alice had gotten a bug stuck in her nose. But somehow the bug was good, and Alice knew this. The bug may have been light green and maybe 10-15cm long. Alice knew that if she blew the bug out of her nose that something good would happen, so that Alice would have a good rest of the day.

      But somehow, the story went, Alice thought that the second part of the day was always grumpy. So Alice was curious how the second part of the day could actually be happy.

      So, Carroll narrated, Carroll told Alice that the first part of the day knew that the second part of the day was always grumpy. So the first part of the day would hide and avoid the second part of the day. But then the first part of the day would sneak up and surprise the first part of the day, somehow influencing the second part of the day to be good.

      Dream #2

      I was probably in something like a train (or a pickup truck?) with my sister and another woman, who was probably my sister's friend. It was a sunny day, and the sky was clear and deep blue. We rode along something that looked like a big lake. But it may actually have been an area hit by a really bad flood. The water actually looked peaceful, and it reflected the blue of the sky.

      I told my sister that perhaps the flood hadn't been so bad after all. In fact, I didn't think the "power plant" had been damaged, like my sister had apparently thought. My sister may now have felt that I had been right.

      But, even as we were talking, we came up to the power plant. It was at the other end of this "flood lake" from us, although now we were directly across from it. At first, it may have looked okay. But then, we saw, it was completely smashed and still half under the floodwaters. It looked like it had actually been only a substation. Now it was a bunch of smashed steel frames, wires, coils, and fencing. I told my sister it looked like she had been right after all.

      Dream #3

      I was in a small room, which may have been part of a library or museum. The room actually felt like a room in an old castle. The walls were like stucco. The walls each had wide, arched entryways on them. The room was kind of dim, with natural light seeming to come in from some indiscernable place.

      There was a crowd of teenagers packed in the room, watching L'Arc en Ciel perform on a stage. I was alternately in the crowd and on the stage, singing, as if, from time to time, I became Hyde.

      Then I was in the crowd, outside the room, in a kind of narrow hallway, which was just as packed with people. Somebody made an announcement that a line was now forming for the special L'Arc en Ciel concert, which would be held later on. The line was first come first serve, and only a few people would get into the concert.

      I saw the line forming in the crowd in which I stood, like a current in the ocean. I thought that I should try to get in the line. After all, I thought of myself as a pretty big L'Arc en Ciel fan. But I was already sick of the crowd, and I didn't want to have to deal with the jerks in line on top of that. So I figured I'd forget it.

      I was now walking through a big area, like a covered porch in an old monastery, although I may still have been inside. The crowd was still pretty thick here, although I finally had some personal space.

      I was then standing before a woman who sat at a bench. The woman was maybe in her mid to late fifties. She had obviously been thin all her life, though she now seemed to be gaining weight, and she looked a little dumpy. She had pale, brown hair and fair skin. Her face was kind of square, lined with wrinkles. She had pale eyes. But the whites of her eyes looked misted over with purple, almost as if bruised.

      The woman was either fully or mostly blind. She carried a walking cane. She may have been trying to explain to me how I needed to keep my emotional grounding regarding some kind of problem in my life.

      I was really concerned by the purple coloring on the woman's eyes. I asked the woman how she'd become blind. The woman may have started telling me her story.

      Dream #4

      I was in the driveway of "my boss' house." It was a nice, sunny day. There were a lot of cars in the driveway, and there may have been a lot of people and activity on the driveway and in the garage, which was open.

      Someone explained that my boss had been arrested for murder. The police were in the house, getting my boss. My boss' wife and daughter now came out of the house, hugging each other and crying. The daughter was blonde, wore a pink dress, and was maybe six or seven years old. She barely came up to her mother's waist. Apparently the little girl had been a victim of my boss' craziness.

      Now the police were bringing out my boss. Someone mentioned that my boss thought I was stalking him. Part of the paranoia that had led him to murder was the thought that I was stalking him and somehow mind-controlling him, so that he'd become a killer. So I thought that, as my boss was brought out, I'd hide a little, so he wouldn't think I was there, "still" stalking him.

      But the police brought my boss out too soon for me to hide. My boss was very pale, like my boss is IWL. But he looked a lot more manly. His face was kind of rugged and square, instead of being round and flabby. He also had stubble on his face. His hair was short, kind of wiry, maybe pale brown or red. My boss wore a pale, denim shirt. He looked really worn out by whatever he'd been through.

      As the police were putting my boss in the car, my boss got a view of me. But I couldn't tell what he thought of seeing me. I and someone else got in another car and pulled away. I thought if my boss saw me leaving, he wouldn't think I'd been stalking him.

      I was now somewhere, possibly in front of my boss' house again. I heard that my boss had actually murdered his daughter. The murder had actually been part of some ritual, maybe satanic.

      My mom and I were now pulling up to my boss' house in a car. It was dark outside. It was either very late night or very early morning. We were here to pick up my sister. My sister had been in the house when my boss had committed the murders (my boss had possibly also murdered his wife). My sister was now "acting" as if she was house-sitting while my boss was in prison. This was so my boss wouldn't think my sister either knew about or felt uncomfortable about the murders that had been committed while she'd been in the house.

      The home was still a separate home. But it was set up in a strange way. To get to the front door, I had to walk up a tall staircase, up to a balcony, like in an apartment complex or a hotel with outdoor balconies connecting the residences.

      I knocked on the door, which was a grid of wood-framed, glass panes, showing in to the entrance corridor. The floors of the hallway were tile. There was something that seemed to be orange about the walls, though the walls seemed to be some kind of beige marble. The hallway ended in a wall and went off to the left and the right, i.e., in a "T" shape.

      My sister first came from the right side. She saw me standing outside. She seemed to rush off, to get all her stuff together to meet me. She now came from the left side. She wore a giant, very lifelike, replica of a white horse's head on her body, so that the only part of her showing from under the horse's head was her legs, below the knees.

      Somehow my sister explained to me (she was still walking to the door, and I was still outside) that she wore the horse's head as part of the satanic ritual. But she also wore it so my boss wouldn't think my sister had been able to see the murders my boss had committed. But I also knew that my sister wore the horse head over her body as a defense against the trauma she'd experienced from the murders.

      Somehow, it was like my sister was my boss' daughter, and that my sister had been the main victim of some torturous satanic ritual which then culminated in the murder of someone, though probably not my sister.

      Someone may have explained to me how my boss had finally been arrested. But as they told me this story, it was like I was watching the arrest. It was like my view was only 33cm or so away from my boss. Sometimes I may actually have seen from my boss' point of view.

      My boss apparently lived in a smallish, kind of squalid, apartment. It was daytime. The front door of the apartment was open. The police were standing just inside, in the living room. They were going through the procedures of arresting my boss. But my boss suddenly made a break for it.

      My boss may have been a young, tallish, slim, but muscular man wearing a sweater and jeans, with black hair and a light beard. My boss ran down a staircase. He ran past the apartments, into a desert field of dry grass and pale gravel. He then ran down into a shallow box canyon. He began spray painting a lot of words onto the walls of the box canyon in red spray paint.

      I was curious about what my boss had written. It seemed like it was some kind of message, like for a doomsday cult. But I felt like there might be an element of philosophical truth, or at least a kind of dark coolness, to it. But I was also interested in how the police had caught up to my boss and captured him.

      But the vision had ended here. Now I was in a weird building, like a convention center or shopping mall full of stuff that made it feel like a bunch of hotel lobbies or living rooms. I had been watching some TV. I'd probably been watching the scene of which I'd thought I'd been a part.

      Someone standing near me may have explained to me that the police had caught my boss. But I knew they'd caught him. What I was interested in was how they'd caught him, and what he'd written on the walls of the box canyon.

      I knew that my mother had gotten the newspaper. She'd actually just gone out to get the paper. She'd likely be coming back home with the paper by now. So I'd just go up to my mom's apartment (or room?) to get an account from my mom on what details had been in the paper.

      I walked up to the mezzanine balcony of the strange building. I went down a side hallway and into a room like a hotel room, which was my mom's apartment. My mom had just arrived, and she was reclining on her bed with a selection of magazines and newspapers laid before her.

      My mom may have been a kind of tall, kind of beautiful, glamorous woman, maybe just now beginning to gain weight. She may have worn a dark, silk slip and some kind of silk, floral-printed robe. She may have been wearing black mascara and a "Mrs. Robinson" hairstyle.

      I sat on the bed with my mom and thumbed through some of the magazines and papers. I saw that some of the articles about my boss had pictures of Anders Breivik. (I didn't know Breivik's name in the dream.)

      I asked my mom about it. She said, "When he tried to escape from the police, he tried to be like that Norway guy." (She might actually have said "Sweden guy.") "So he used a pickup truck as a getaway vehicle."
    10. boss never tells me anything

      by , 09-05-2011 at 02:07 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was sitting in an office with my boss. I sat in front of the desk and my boss sat behind it. The room seemed kind of small. The light was really grey. The desk was cluttered with all kinds of piles of paper. My view may have been really low, too, as if I were very short or in a low down chair.

      I was complaining about my boss, as if I were talking about him to somebody else -- even though I was talking to him. I told him, "My boss never tells me anything. I never know what he's doing."
    11. hiv interview; new apple devices and painting search

      by , 08-17-2011 at 12:42 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      A TV interview show, like Oprah, with two people on the stage. One of the people was a black-Latino man. The other may have been a black man. They both sat in swivel chairs on a smallish, slightly raised, circular platform. The black-Latino man sat on the left.

      The black-Latino man had been diagnosed with HIV about twenty years ago. But he was still really healthy. In fact, I thought, he may have been even healthier than the other man on stage, who didn't have HIV.

      Dream #2

      I was in an office, sitting at a cubicle. I was kind of slouched back in my chair, maybe with a knee pressing against the edge of my desk. I could see the CPU for my computer on the desk. It was taller and wider than usual, and pale grey.

      Somebody, possibly a pretty woman who was my boss, tossed a cardboard box on my desk. I opened it. Inside was some kind of pale grey device that looked like an electric label maker. It was long and narrow, with a keypad of yellow, red, and green buttons. It had some sort of rolling tape or paper dispenser coming out the top. I knew or learned, somehow, that this was a new device from Apple.

      I knew that this device probably wasn't mine. But I figured I'd hook it up to my computer and use it anyway. I didn't even know what the device did.

      I found some wires in the box. I then learned the instructions for the device -- somehow -- I didn't read any instructions or look at any papers or anything. I knew that the device sednt messages to the office printer. The printer then printed these messages out.

      The device had to be connected by wires to the printer through a long, complicated process. I thought the process was too long. I didn't want the device anymore. I put it back in the box.

      My boss, the pretty woman, sat down in the cubicle behind me. I realized the device had been meant for her. I said, relaxedly, as if it were true, "I was just looking at this new device you got. I was trying to see if I could hook it up to your computer for you, so you don't have to. I think I can do it."

      There was now a view of Bill Gates, or somebody who looked like him, except, possibly, with no glasses and skinnier eyes. Bill Gates was surrounded by a group of people in a space that looked kind of like an office, a kitchen, and some kind of science lab, near a window on some high up floor of a skyscraper.

      Bill Gates was talking as if he were the head of Apple. He was saying that he hadn't actually made a really big deal regarding some kind of copyright or patent dispute over one of his products. He didn't actually care too much about it.

      Bill Gates now lifted up a device. It was like a water-pitcher. But it was as big as a CPU column, and it was shaped like the Apple logo. It had a grey-tan outline, and a body of clear, smoky-grey plastic. Gates was pouring out glasses of water for everybody.

      But I was trying to get a better view of this device (as if I were watching onTV). The device, I knew, was some kind of computer device. It had some kind of mechanism at its mouth, where the water poured out. I just couldn't see what it was.

      I was now standing before a desk, at which sat a guy I know from a Starbucks I go to. The guy was apparently trying to sell me works of art. The guy was flipping through the pages of a book. I had probably seen the paintings I had wanted already, as if I had already looked through the book. But the guy was flipping through the pages so quickly that I wasn't sure if we'd gotten to or passed the pictures of the paintings.

      Finally I told the guy something about how I'd look for the pictures more carefully -- probably just by looking through the book myself. The guy kind of acted annoyed. He started talking with a friend of his. I got worried that the guy was getting bored with me. I wondered if I was being too specific with the pictures I wanted. I thought maybe I should just take one that I thought looked kind of like the ones I wanted.

      But I also really liked the pictures, and I thought my choice would also be interesting and impressive to the guy as well. I remembered one picture, black and white, of a Millet-like painting of two people standing out on the field. I kept searching for this painting, but I couldn't find it.

      But I found the second painting I was looking for. This was of a big shrub on a field of clumpy grass, possibly with a little cabin in the distance. The photo of this painting was also in black and white.

      I was apparently going to buy the photos, and not the paintings themselves. Also -- possibly -- the photos I'd buy would also be the pages from this book -- like the guy would cut the pages out of this book and sell them to me.
    12. a lot of cold drinks; boss, homer, and my phone; uhura's table manners

      by , 07-23-2011 at 01:40 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in a fast food restaurant. The place looked a bit drab, with brightish, green-grey fluorescent light and kind of dirty, red-tile floors. There might not have been any seats.

      I stood over by the drinks dispenser. I was really hot, and all I wanted was a 32-ounce cup of some kind of fake fruit juice. The sign over the drinks dispenser indicated that the drink was some kind of pink "fruit" juice. This sounded just right to me.

      I pushed a plastic cup (possibly with a blue Pepsi design on it) against a lever like a soda dispenser lever, although both it and the dispenser were kind of big, like for an ice dispenser. The fluid poured out.

      I took a sip. As I did, I noticed that the color of the drink was kind of pale brown, like watered down soda, or like tea, more than like any kind of fake fruit juice. I held the drink a little way away from me. I looked at it and thought that maybe it was iced tea after all.

      I was kind of disappointed. I wanted something that had taste. But I couldn't quite believe that I had poured tea instead of fake fruit juice. So I took a really big drink now, to get as much flavor as I could. This time the drink definitely tasted like lemonade.

      So I figured that I had been thrown off by the color of the drink. I'd thought it was going to be pink. So when it was yellow, I thought it was brown. So I'd mistaken it for tea. (WTF???)

      I felt bad that I'd taken such a huge drink of the lemonade. There were one or two Latina girls behind the counter. They were both kind of pretty, and I didn't want them to think I was a big pig for drinking so much before paying.

      I wanted my drink to stay extra cold, because I was really hot. I put some ice in the cup. I then filled the drink the rest of the way up.

      I was walking in a big city, as if I'd left the fast food place and was heading back to work. I seemed to be in a big hurry. I crossed a smallish, triangular plaza in front of a big skyscraper.

      A man called out from behind me. I turned around. The man looked black and Latino. He was holding out a bag of fast food and a big drink. The man told me I'd forgotten to take my stuff with me. I was kind of surprised that I had done so.

      I now walked into a small building, which was like some kind of community center or some kind of hospital for underprivileged people. There was a yellow sign with lettering in red italics on the wall to the left of the door. It said something about how the cafeteria here makes its own chili. It was really proud about this, and it boasted that it wasn't like other cafeterias, which buy processed chili.

      I had a little time before the meeting I had to go to -- some kind of community support meeting. I didn't like going to the meetings, because I felt like people were always assuming I was poor or stupid because I had to come to them. But I also felt like they were important to go to.

      The cafeteria was just across the hallway from the front door. I walked into the cafeteria. I was really hot, and I wanted some kind of fruity drink.

      I looked around at the cafeteria for a moment. It looked more like the kitchen area of a dining hall rather than a cafeteria. The place was really small. There were no seats. There was a stainless steel counter, probably where all the food was served up, buffet-style. I may have known the workers behind the counter.

      I walked out of this room and across the hallway. There was a smaller room, basically just a little nook in the wall. There was a small, glass-doored refrigerator with drinks inside it. I saw something like a Nestle peach-flavored ice tea. I didn't think this was exactly what I wanted. But I figured it would be good enough.

      But for some reason, I didn't grab it. I felt like maybe the workers in the other room would think I was being mean or ungrateful if I bought a drink from this room instead of from their room -- even though I had to go to their room to buy the drink from them, so that technically I was buying this drink from them, anyway.

      Dream #2

      I was "at work." The space was like an office space in a small office complex. Sometimes the area seemed big, with no offices or cubicles, just a big space with desks. At other times, the area seemed like a big office, with possibly two big desks inside of it.

      The place didn't have any lights on, but there was a decent amount of daylight coming in through the windows, giving the place a gentle, greyish kind of atmosphere. The place seemed slightly cluttered, and it also seemed like there were potted plants all over the place.

      I was going to quit my job. This may have been my last day at work. My boss was preparing for me to leave. I think a young woman was coming to take my place. My boss was putting some stuff in order so the woman would know how to do the things I did.

      My boss was sitting at one big desk, and I was sitting at another desk. I got out of my desk and walked over to my boss. At first, my boss was doing something like filing through cards that had the consistency of business cards but a size maybe about between that of business cards and that of playing cards.

      But then my boss was paging through some of my old notebooks. He found verses of poetry by Homer. There were three or four passages that I'd transcribed into the notebooks. Each passage was about half a page long.

      My boss asked me why in the heck I'd transcribed Homer into a work notebook. I felt that the transcriptions had had something to do with work, but I couldn't explain it.

      I kept stuttering in my explanation. But eventually I said something about instinct and how reading Homer provided me with some kind of abstract understanding of things, which then melted into my instincts and helped me make better choices.

      Later on, my boss was trying to make some kind of weird deal with me. I can't remember exactly what it was. He wanted to keep me working with him, but on one project, so that my time would be free for doing other things. I can't remember what the project was, but it sounded like a terrible deal that my boss was trying, half-assed, to dress up.

      At another time, my boss walked away through the big office. I may have kind of hung around in the huge office all by myself, kind of spinning my wheels and getting bored.

      I was now outside. I was out on a flat, open field mostly of dark-tan soil, with little patches of grass here and there. The soil may have been a tiny bit damp, as if from a dewy morning or a recent rain. It was a clear day, with a cold, blue sky marbled with thin cirrus clouds.

      There seemed to be a chain-link fence and some kind of structure somewhere. There were also a few vehicles, including a couple of big, black pick-up trucks.

      I found my boss before a small, hatchback car, which may have been really shiny and cobalt blue, maybe even with glittery flecks in it, like on the car of an amusement park ride. My boss stood before the opened hatchback. The interior of the car just seemed to be stuffed full of papers.

      I conferred with my boss a little bit about something. I was getting ready to leave work for the last time. My boss understood this. He said, "Oh, I still have your phone. I'm listening to some of the songs on it. I'm not done with it yet. But I'll meet you upstairs" (as if this outdoor area were really the "basement" of the office!) "and give it to you as soon as I'm done."

      My boss now seemed to be wearing huge, Skull-Candy-like earphones.

      I was really frustrated with my boss. First of all, I hadn't even known that he had taken my phone to listen to stuff on it. Second, why was he telling me that he was holding onto my phone and not giving it back until he was done with it? It was my phone! Third, I just wanted to get out of here once and for all, but it seemed like my boss just kept trying to find ways to keep me here. And this was another one!

      Dream #3

      I was watching some kind of commercial or infomercial. It showed the woman who played Uhura on Star Trek. The commercial seemed to refer to the woman by her real name, but only using her first name.

      In some kind of haughty, "she-knows-better-than-you" fashion, the male announcer said that Uhura always heeded her table manners, and that she'd never make the mistake of forgetting them.

      The screen showed a kind of red-and-white photo of Uhura, which faded into an actual view of her. She responded to the male announcer by saying, "Yes, I never forget my table manners. My daddy taught them to me a long time ago."

      There was now a view of a family in a nice dining room. The family was apparently Uhura's family. The family all gathered around the left end of the table. Some sat at the table, while others stood. All the people in the family seemed to be adults, maybe from their mid-30s on up.

      The head of the family was some man, who may or may not actually have been there. He was rich and very classy. He seemed to have grey and black hair and mustache. He wore a very nice suit with a cream-and-red striped tie.

      The rest of the family seemed to be dressed in a kind of middle-class style. One woman was dressed in a nurse's outfit. Her hair was really nerdy-looking, about shoulder length, light brown, kind of oily, with a bit of a tight, gerry-curl style. She also wore clunky, but small, kind of round glasses.

      The woman seemed to be speaking for the family. She said something like, "A lot of families teach their children table manners when they're young. But then they don't follow up on it as the children get older. So the children forget what they learned about table manners. But not our family. We were taught table manners all the time. So we never forget."

      Uhura seemed to be sitting in a big chair, either at the other end of this room or else in some other room, but visible by a big video screen. The woman and Uhura seemed to be having some sort of conversation with each other about how important table manners were.
    13. space shuttle crash; friend's apartment; boss' bedroom; singing to hyde; bob dylan's bless

      by , 06-25-2011 at 01:23 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was standing out in some kind of open, desert-like plain. I stood with a woman, possibly my mother. We looked up into the air and saw a space shuttle lifting off -- all by itself, and with no exhaust.

      My mom and I may have been talking about the shuttle. The shuttle then did a loop, somehow flipping around so that it was also upside down when it returned to its original point. I knew that this meant something was wrong with the shuttle. The shuttle then fell and crashed into the ground, topside first, not too far away from us.

      For some reason, something in particular struck me about the back, top fin of the shuttle. I think I was surprised that the shuttle had crashed into the ground, but that the back fin was still intact and erect. The shuttle was smashed in other places and was overall covered in red soil and dust.

      I saw inside the shuttle. Some woman who was apparently my mom's friend, but who actually looked like LP, a friend of my friend H, was the only person in the shuttle. She was older looking, kind overweight, with frizzy-curly grey-blonde hair. She wore a greenish t-shirt.

      The woman was buckled by both shoulders into the pilot's seat. She looked a little exhausted, more like she had run a long race than like she had just been in a shuttle crash. We'd thought she was dead. But it was now like she was fine.

      She herself was apparently worried that she wouldn't be able to fly the shuttle again. But apparently the shuttle wasn't completely wrecked, and it would be able to fly again.

      Dream #2

      I was in a bedroom in my old friend R's apartment, with my friend R. My friend R reclined on his bed. I either stood or sat on the floor on the side and near the foot of the bed. On the other side of the bed there was a wall-height, wall-length window. On the other side of the window was a wide staircase that ran down the side of the wall. It was night outside, and there was just a dim incandescent light in R's bedroom.

      R seemed to be talking on the phone. But he was also talking to me. It was like we had had a pretty nice conversation about some slightly intellectual subject familiar to us both. But apparently I was also getting ready to leave. R asked me if I was coming back to his apartment later on to have dinner with him. I told him yes, but I don't think I was really planning to come back.

      Dream #3

      I was in my boss' bedroom. All the lights were turned off. My boss was in bed. I stood right next to the bed, although I feel like I may actually have been very short, as short as if I had actually been sitting by his bed. I may also have been doing stuff like packing clothes into a suitcase.

      My boss asked me if I'd be coming back to work after a certain amount of time, possibly a few weeks or a few months. I told my boss sure, that I'd be back. But I really didn't think I'd come back, and I kind of hoped I didn't get sucked back into everything.

      Dream #4

      I was in a subway car, kind of like the car of a 3-train, with the silvery-reflective walls and green-white fluorescent light. The car was only moderately full of people, and I felt like I was with a couple of friends, maybe younger girls. I was standing, standing-swinging from one of the horizontal bars over the seats, with my back toward the seats.

      As I swung, I sang "My Heart Draws a Dream," by L'Arc en Ciel. I could hear myself very clearly as I sang. It felt really good to sing.

      But then Hyde from L'Arc en Ciel stood up from a seat across the aisle from me and walked up to me. I may have stopped singing for a moment. I felt bad for singing in front of Hyde. I obviously wasn't as good as him. I didn't want him to think I was making fun of him by singing his songs.

      But Hyde just smiled gently at me. Somehow his looks implied that he was listening to me patiently, almost like a parent might give an interested face while his child sang him a song. So I may have started singing again. But now the song sounded just like the L'Arc en Ciel song, as if I weren't singing, but the song were being played from somewhere.

      Dream #5

      I was in a dark bar. The bar was so dark that the bar and the wall behind the wall all seemed to be just as black as the shadows. There was like coming from some area on or behind the countertop, and the bottles and mirror were lit as well, so that these things were all a gently bright, incandescent white.

      A woman stood behind the bar, and another woman sat in front of the bar. This bar was apparently a karaoke bar. I was already singing a song, even though I don't think I held a mic. I thought the song I was singing was a Bob Dylan song. But it was actually the L'Arc en Ciel song "Bless."

      The woman sitting at the bar asked me if it was difficult to sing this song. I said, "No. I know these lyrics pretty well. I'm a big fan of this Bob Dylan song."

      The song hit the instrumental part, and suddenly I felt like I wasn't familiar with the song at all. But right before the chorus was about to start up again, I remembered how it all went. But, as I sang, I may have been singing along with the actual song, instead of a karaoke version of the song. At this point I may have realized I wasn't singing Bob Dylan.
    14. closet boxes; museum store; surveillance walls

      by , 06-23-2011 at 11:42 AM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I stood before my closet hallway. There were a lot of boxes in there. I had a lightbulb box in my hand. It was empty, so I figured I'd just throw it out to make space.

      There were some other boxes in there, possibly including a box for diapers. I threw them out, too. Suddenly I had only one box in my closet. It was the only box that had anything in it. It was white cardboard.

      I thought I could start stacking stuff up on this box. But I was a little afraid to. The box looked a little dirty, like it had bugs crawling on it. I didn't want to put more stuff on this box and get everything else all buggy.

      Dream #2

      I was in the gift shop for a museum. The man there basically owned and ran the gift shop. The gift shop was closing down, and a lot of its shelves were empty. I remember one particular wall of light-beige wood shelves that were completely empty. The walls behind the shelves were grey, like a dark concrete or cinder.

      The owner came up and smiled at me. He was white, bald, with a grey-white mustache and a kind of friendly look. He also seemed to be a little bit muscular. He spoke to me in some friendly way about some of the discounts he had throughout the store.

      I was now alone in the store. I somehow heard my boss talking with a woman, or possibly with a woman and a man. I had apparently left my job for good. This had been somehwat planned. But now my boss was being urged to get me back. My boss was told that I should try to be tricked into believing that I was actually obliged to stay on for two more weeks.

      As I heard this stuff, I had kind of been floating around on my back throughout the store. I had floated up high for a little while. But now I was floating at about the level of the checkout counter.

      I looked at the green, digital numbers on the display of the tan, plastic cash register. They said "4-17." I knew that meant that today was April 17th. This was, I thought, about two weeks before I was scheduled to leave work. But I really didn't want to have to go back to my office, and I was trying to think whether this story these people would be feeding me about how I needed to go back was actually true.

      Dream #3

      I woke up. The lights were on in my room. My eyes were really blurry. But, I knew, because of my half-sleeping condition, I could see things that I normally wouldn't see.

      I looked at my walls. There were black spots all around the room, at about waist height. The spots were set in pairs, and the pairs were spaced with about one meter intervals. The pairs of spots were set so that two spots were right next to each other, one set up a little diagonally to the other. The black spots were little spy cameras.

      Up near the top of the wall were much more widely spaced, much bigger devices, which may have been colored like rusty metal. They looked like small versions of the horns for old phonographs.

      I knew people were spying on me by using all this stuff. But I didn't know who was spying on me. There was suddenly a high-pitched ringing in my ears. It got more and more intense.
    15. au revoir boss; carrying steel models; guy in movie theatre

      by , 05-29-2011 at 01:59 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in an office with my boss and the head of our department, J. J made a comment about the conditions of our company. He then said, "Well, your boss will tell you more about that." J then walked out of the office, through a doorway that may possibly have been to a stairwell.

      Only my boss and I were now left on the office floor. The space was kind of narrow. There was some kind of long counter or reception desk running along the area where my boss and I stood.

      My boss stood a few feet away from me. He looked a little different than IWL. His hair was cut short, and he was wearing really nice eyeglasses with no frames on the bottom of the lenses and nice, thin, black frames across the top. He was also wearing a pale, lemon-yellow shirt that looked very clean and pressed.

      My boss said, "Well, I guess I should tell you it's going to happen to me next. But don't say I told you."

      I understood this to mean that my boss was going to leave the company. But he'd said it so quietly and mumbled, and he'd told me not to talk about it. So I acted like it wasn't a big deal, like I almost hadn't heard him in the first place. I actually may also have hoped he'd say whatever he'd said again, since he'd mumbled and been so quiet that I wasn't quite sure I heard him correctly.

      My boss was annoyed by my reaction, as if he thought what he'd said hadn't sunk into my skull at all. So, as I walked closer to him, he took out a plastic pen, kind of fatter than normal, and poked me at the top right side of my chest, and said, "Au revoir."

      It was now clear that my boss was leaving the company. My boss had given me a parting gift. It was a huge book by Marguerite Duras. I don't remember the title. It was a fat paperback. It had a yellow cover, possibly with some kind of painting inside a circle on the center on the front.

      My boss and I stood at the far end of the counter now. Just beyond us was an unlit area that looked like a living room, or even like two decent-sized living rooms separated from each other by some kind of partitions. The rooms were visible only by the fluorescent light of the office area and the deep blue morning or evening light coming in through the wall-sized windows.

      The counter looked now more like an alcohol bar made out of office materials. My boss wandered around to the other side of the bar. As he did I told him, "Well, I'm really thankful to you. You took a chance on me when nobody else would..."

      But my boss waved me off, as if to say, "Don't start with all that modesty stuff again." He came back around the bar and handed me another book. It was also by Marguerite Duras. It was much thinner than the first book. It had the same kind of yellow color. This book was titled Abe Diem----- or Abe Dies----- (can't remember the rest of the word). I figued the title was German.

      Dream #2

      I was walking on some concrete path with two other people. One was probably my sister. The other was a kind of fat man maybe my age or younger, maybe in his mid 20s.

      It was a bright, sunny day. The path we walked on was like a sidewalk, and it was in a suburban neighborhood. But it was actually crossing some area between two grassy fields on either side of which were blocks of houses. The area we were walking through at first was narrow, as if there were some kind of construction trailer to our right.

      At least my sister and I were carrying something. We both carried the objects slung over our shoulders. My sister carried one bag of something and a huge, black-metal frame almost like a bed frame. The frame had a bunch of figures molded into the empty space. The figures looked like toys, like army figures, or little toy-wrestling figures. The thing looked extremely awkward and heavy to carry. I may actually have felt this from my sister's point of view.

      I was carrying a plastic bag with a huge pack of Huggies diapers in it. It wasn't very heavy at all.

      I felt kind of guilty for carrying something so light and easy while my sister carried such a big, heavy frame. At some point either I or the other man suggested that we stop a moment, ostensibly to give my sister a break. The man stopped. I slowed down, unsure as to what our plan was. My sister kept going. She said she didn't need a break. And before long, she was altogether gone.

      We were finally now just past the trailer or series of trailers that had made the place seem so narrow. We were in a grassy field, like a litte park. The guy had stopped right past the far end of the trailers. I'm pretty sure he hadn't been holding anything before. But now he set down a white, cloth bag and a black frame like the one my sister had.

      I set down my bag with the huge pack of Huggies diapers. I was also carrying a small, black bag which had something square in it. I set the black bag on top of the Huggies bag, hoping that I could conceal the fact from the man that I was carrying all these diapers around with me.

      The man now explained the black frame to me. He said you painted one side of the figures and then pressed them against a canvas. In this way you created some kind of big painting of all these figures.

      There was also another frame, which may have been of copper or bronze. Not everybody had this second frame. But it produced a second layer on the paintings, which gave the figures "moveable arms." The arms really weren't moveable on the painting. But I guess what was meant was that the torso, legs, and head of the figures were one color, while the arms were another color.

      In my mind's eye I saw a brownish-copper color canvas or paper dotted with gnarly, little paint-figures. The legs, torsos, and heads of the figures were black, while the arms were either white or a very pale, bright shade of purple.

      Dream #3

      I was in a movie theatre with a few other people. The movie theatre was huge, but there were only a few of us, all scattered through the first three or four rows of the theatre. Two people I was aware of were an older man with big, clear glasses and pale, blue eyes, and a young, pretty, blonde woman.

      We were all here as part of some audition. Or we may actually already have been performing. But as part of this audition or performance we had to watch whatever movie was playing.

      I may have been second row. Something felt very weird just to my left, as if the seats were gone, or as if something or someone was crowding me almost to the point of pushing against me.

      The old man was in the row behind me. He tapped my left shoulder. He said to me, "See over there, in the front row? That boy? Even though he's a star, he wanted to be part of this thing, too. Heh, heh! He called his agent up directly and asked to be given a space down here today!"

      I looked to the boy the man had pointed out. He seemed to look like Frankie Muniz from Malcolm in the Middle. But he wore a round-brimmed hat and big, thick eyeglasses. He sat in the front row, in one of the far left seats. He had seemed a little standoffish to me, though I'm not sure when he had seemed this way. But now he seemed shy, kind of fragile, and in need of a friend.

      I was now sitting at a table, apparently in some kind of restaurant. The table was for four. To my right was a window wall which revealed the pink-peach light of early sunrise or late sunset, possibly over a body of water, like a huge lake.

      The "star" sat caddy-corner from me at the table, eating something like cereal or oatmeal. I may have been eating or only drinking a cup of coffee. I suddenly recognized the "star." It was a man named Aki, a guy who DJ'd at a relief concert that had been held at the Japan Society.

      I was excited to see him again, as I'd lost contact with him. But I remembered how shy and fragile he'd seemed as the "star" kid in the theatre. So I didn't speak too enthusiastically to him, or even let on that I knew who he was.

      I asked him something about his life. He responded in a kind of quiet tone, like he was a little depressed. I thought I wouldn't press any more conversation, although it looked like he was probably getting ready to say a few more things on his own.
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