maboroshi

Good morning, everybody. These dreams probably all occurred in the early morning, maybe after 2:30 or 3 AM.

The first two dreams had a weird visual quality, as if I were reading them or half-reading them. I think this comes from the fact that last night I read Oe Kenzaburo's story "Teach Us to Outgrow Our Madness, in which one of the characters is a boy who can't see very well.

The emotional difficulty the boy's father has with this and other things is so vivid that I think my unconscious tried to put me in that boy's position in one way or another.

Dream #1

I was half-reading and half-watching a story about a man and a woman at a hotel. The man was in danger, and the woman was trying to protect him. The man and the woman were both spies. The man had probably gotten caught in the act.

The woman had brought the man to the hotel for hiding. She may now have been explaining to the man that he was a spy. This may have come as a surprise to the man, who didn't actually want to be a spy.

The woman may then have made some sort of flirtatious gestures or comments to the man. The man may have understood that the woman wanted to have sex with the man while they were at the hotel. But the man didn't want to have sex. The woman may have, reluctantly, gotten the point, after which she turned to talking about some "serious" topic with the man.

Dream #2

I was reading an email from one of the bosses of my department, M. M's email was written in regular black text, except words and phrases that he wanted to emphasize, which were in bold and colored brown.

The first part of the email had to do with the fact that our larger company was getting to celebrate some royal wedding from a number of decades ago. An old, royal couple would be visiting the offices.

I could see the couple in my head, as if looking at a photograph from the late 1800s. They woman was dressed in a Victorian dress. The man was dressed in a military suit and medals.

M wrote that we had to treat the royal couple very nice because they were major investors in our company.

M's email then went on to say that M was going to be let go from the company in just a little while. He was going to stay on to make sure a couple of big events were taken care of. He wasn't bitter he was getting fired. He understood.

I now saw a tall, thin, old, white man in a lonely office hallway. The man stood before a copier that was set into a niche in the wall. The copier had a strange-looking top. It looked like some kind of animal trap, covered over in a metal shell and painted the same color of grey-beige as the copier.

I knew that, to make copies, you had to drop the papers onto the top of the strange device. The papers would then fall into the copier, as they would fall into a garbage can.

Dream #3

I had been in a room full of people, mostly women, doing some kind of small workshop or conference. The room had emptied out largely, with just a few people around. Now, even though I stood in the room still, it was like a number of months had passed since the conference.

I was looking for somebody to celebrate "the holiday" with. The holiday was like Christmas, but it wasn't Christmas. I asked a short woman if she would like to celebrate the holiday with me. She probably said she couldn't. But then she remembered that another girl, an Israeli girl, was looking for someone to spend the holiday with.

The Israeli girl called me on the phone. I could see the girl in my mind's eye. She was short, with olive skin, and long, black hair. I was really happy I was going to get to go out with her.

The Israeli girl told me something like there was no way she was going to be able to get back home "to West Tel Aviv" (I'm not sure if people make such an explicit distinction as "West Tel Aviv" in waking life). I thought of Tel Aviv and told the Israeli girl how much I wanted to go there. One of my favorite psychologists, Erich Neumann, spent the final years of his life there.

I told the girl something like she must hear people say stuff like that all the time. I told her it must get annoying to hear people talk about her home like it was so perfect, when it wasn't actually very easy at all to live there.

I (false) remembered a conversation I'd had with a woman from another country. The woman had told me about how naïve she thought some foreigners were. They'd say how much culture they thought her country had. But they didn't understand that it was really a scary place to live.

I was now in a big room, sitting on a couch so that my legs were propped up on the back and my back lay on the seat cushion. A pretty, blonde college girl stood before the couch. The girl was tall, thin, slim, and tan, with blue eyes. She wore a pink sweater and dark blue jeans.

The girl was giving a speech about different media-propaganda campaigns made by certain regions of the world to make other regions of the world look bad. She was giving a lot of really interesting examples. It sounded like dangerous information to have. But it also sounded like she was referencing Hollywood in almost every example.

I tried to pay closer attention to the girl's speech. But there were a bunch of girls getting up and leaving, walking between me and the girl and making such noise, talking with each other, that I couldn't get what the girl was saying. Her last example had something to do with New York carrying out a smear campaign against Chicago.

Other than the girl and I, there was only one woman now in the room. She was like a professor and like the girl's mother. She was working at a big desk off in the corner of the room.

The girl now flopped down on a couch near mine. We were something like good friends. But I was now really sexually aroused by her. So I rolled off the couch and crawled over to her couch.

For some reason, I asked the girl, "So now what are you going to do with you life?"

The girl's belly was a little exposed from under the sweater. I had intended to roll up and see if I could get away with snuggling with the girl on the couch. But, seeing the girl's belly and waistline, I just decided to stick my hand into the girl's jeans.

So I lifted up the girl'ls waistline and began feeling her. I was surprised to discover that the girl was wearing a baby's diaper. This didn't worry me too much. I moved my hand farther down toward the girl's crotch.

Suddenly the girl demanded, "What are you doing?"

I thought, Oh no! She doesn't want me touching her. I was so embarrassed that I woke up.