maboroshi

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was standing on a tall, grey rock. I must have been right at the edge of a residential area that bordered a mountain or forest area.

At first I was possibly looking up at the sky. The sun seemed to be so bright that I had to close my eyes. But at some point I heard my mom and another woman talking in my head. The two women were talking about a thunderstorm.

I looked at the sky. Some heavy, grey-black clouds loomed off to my right, taking up half the sky. I could tell they were thunderclouds. I was really afraid of getting struck by lightning.

I stood down on the ground now. I looked up at the sky again. I noticed that the left half of the sky was somewhat clear. It looked like the storm was getting pushed off to the right. I thought that if I walked more toward my left I could escape any impending lightning strikes.

I ran to my left -- really afraid of a thunderstorm. I ended up in the crevice of a mountain. The landscape all around me was of barren rock. The rock was gritty and dull, kind of like a tannish grey granite. The area sloped downward for a bit, then flattened out, but remained ridged, like a molar tooth.

There were a few other people in this area, mostly men. They seemed to be split up into pairs or threes, almost like fathers and sons. Each group seemed to be engaged in some task.

I eventually ended up at some contraption made out of old wood. The contraption was like a C-shaped frame. It came up about to my chest. There may have been a couple other guys around me.

I heard some people talking, either around me or in my head. The scene may have changed at some point. There had been some discussion of a guy. I asked what had happened to the guy. The person talking (in my head?) said some short phrase that led me to understand that the man had been convicted of murder and executed by hanging.

Good morning, everybody.

The second dream is another silly instance of dream control. I told myself to dream of myself out in a wide, open space, all by myself. I told myself that if I found myself there, I'd become lucid.

Well, I found myself in a wide, open space alright. But I was in a painting. And I was looking at the painting of myself. So... my dream subject was kind of controlled again. But not exactly in the way I'd expected. Lucid fail!

Dream #1

I was in some place like a hospital or a retirement home. But it may also have been a school. I feel like I may have been on the first floor at some point, heading in to some class I was taking. The class may have been for high schoolers, even though I was my current age. But I think I was still doing horribly in the class.

I went down into the basement. I was in a hallway area. The hallway was low, wide, and kind of featureless. There were doorways that went to rooms, each room like a whole department of this hospital. But when the doors were closed, the hallway felt empty and small.

Off to my right was a little alcove with a few doorways. One may have been open, revealing a larger room. But the alcove was filled with shelf-carts for books and stationary bookshelves. The shelves were all filled with books. I knew this was a used book sale.

There were a few people rushing around, getting the shelves all prepared for the sale. The people were mostly men and women in their fifties or sixties. But there were also some younger people, mostly women, probably in their late teens or early twenties. They were all volunteers.

I was interested in seeing what books were on sale. I was mostly interested in science fiction books. So I looked for that area. I think an older woman pushed out a cart full of sci-fi books right as I thought that.

But right as I went to look at the books, a tall, kind of fat, older, white man saw that I was heading there, and he jumped in front of me. He bent over so that he was blocking all the shelves.

Instead of getting mad, I just figured I'd go look at some other books. I walked over to a tall bookshelf, which may have been for paranormal studies.

Dream #2

I was looking at a painting. The painting wasn't realistic: it was a bit blocky and thick, with the sense of three-dimensional perspective a bit flattened, and the color scheme kind of simplified for intensity.

The painting had a red cliff, like one wall of a canyon, taking up the left side. Then there was a bit of grass, then a path. There may have been a boy, his back to the viewer, walking down the path. To the right of the boy, the landscape extended flatly, maybe with a river.

I told myself that I'd definitely become lucid if I was in a landscape like that in a dream. I probably told myself to remember this painting, and to try and make myself go there when I went to sleep tonight.

Dream #3

I was walking around outside somewhere during the day. But I was also talking on the phone with my dad. My dad was telling me about floods occurring in St. Louis, Missouri, which was apparently where my dad lived.

As my dad spoke, I had very strong visions, which were like still photographs, except that I was in them. I stood out in what I guess were aqueducts: they looked like the concrete-walled channels used to catch and drain waters from heavy rains and flash floods.

But the aqueducts I stood in were like highways. I often even stood in the shade of highway overpasses. All around the aqueducts were hills of lawns and trees, so that the aqueducts all felt so quiet and secluded. But I knew they'd be raging with waters pretty soon. It was a bright, sunny, warm day -- hard to believe that it could flood anytime soon.

I may have seen a couple copper-skinned children: a boy and a girl. I thought that they weren't safe out here in the aqueduct. I needed to grab them and get them out of here. But it may also have occurred to me that these children were actually phantoms.

I came back to my senses and found myself walking along some stone-floored promenade in a big park. I was walking up a slope and looking out over an iron railing to my left. Down from the railing was a slope of brambly, leafless trees.

There were some women walking behind me at one point. They said that the flood in St. Louis was going to be 72 inches, once the rain really got going. I couldn't believe it! I didn't want to believe it. I told myself that the weather was too nice here for a flood to happen, even somewhere as far from here as St. Louis.

My dad said, "They're still saying that we're going to have 72 inches of precipitation. It's going to start out looking mild, with only ----- inches. But then it's going to go up really fast and hit 72 inches."

I said, "72 inches! Sheez! That's crazy!"

May dad said, "Well, that's not so bad. We've seen floods like this in St. Louis before. But what's really strange about this one is that it's happening at Christmas -- in December. We aren't even supposed to have rain in December!"

Now I realized that the women I'd heard speaking before were right. As unbelievable (and for some reason inconvenient) as it had sounded to me, it really was going to flood in St. Louis.

As I approached the top of the slope, I could see that, as the promenade plateaued, it also widened out a lot. Over to the right was an overlook, giving a good view over the town we were in (probably somewhere in New England).

But as I got to the wider area, there were a whole lot more people walking around. There were tons of people heading down the slope I'd just come up from. I could tell -- somehow -- that these people were preparing for the flood, even though we were nowhere near it.

One woman, short, skinnyish, and white, maybe in her sixties, with blonde-grey hair and eyeglasses, was walking among the crowd, heading down the slope. The woman was trying to spread some kind of wisdom. She wore a Hindu-esque robe, though I think she thought of herself as a Buddhist.

The woman was saying, "Global warming. Global warming. The flood in December is from global warming." I knew the woman was trying to get somebody interested in her idea so that she could preach to them about being an environmentalist. She may even have had pamphlets about it.

Some younger women nearby may have been agreeing with the older woman. I kind of agreed as well. But I didn't feel like I needed to listen to environmentalist preaching. Hell, I thought. I hardly use any electricity, anyway. All I do is read books.

There was a book sale going on just off to my right as I hit the flat area of the promenade. I got really interested. The books were used, and they all looked really old. I thought I might make some good finds.

But some tall, white man with a bit of a pot belly saw I was interested in the book sale. He tried to get in my way, so that he could get to whatever books I was interested in first. The man looked pretty well-off. He wore a plaid, button-up shirt, tucked into some nice jeans.

I may have tried to avoid the man altogether. But he may have seen that. So he just walked right in front of me, standing broad-chested, his hands on his hips, as if he were trying to block me from getting near any of the books at all.

I must have done something, because I got past the man, anyway. But I was pissed that the man would try to stop me like that! I started cussing the man out, not loud, but in a regular voice, so he could hear me, but I wouldn't be making a scene.

The man reacted by coming to the bookshelf I was at and bending right over in front of all the books, basically edging me out of the way. He started saying stuff about how he didn't know why I was so upset about what he'd done. But if I was so upset, he'd do it some more. And then, he said, we'd see how upset I got.

I told the man to fuck off, and I walked away from him. He seemed to want to start a fight, because now he was calling kind of loudly after me, "Why'd you have to say that? What'd I do to you?"

But I just decided to walk away from the man and ignore him. I walked around to the other side of the bookshelves and found myself in an area full of shelves and bins packed with vinyl records and comic books. This area almost felt like it was indoors.

I looked around here for a while. I may have found some kind of comic book that I was interested in. It may have seemed a little bit like porn. But I may have decided I really didn't have enough money to waste on something like this, after all.

I was walking out of this section and back out to the promenade. But the exit was a bit narrower now. And another older man was walking up toward the aisle I was trying to get out of.

This guy was kind of fat. He saw me and seemed to want to block my way. He stood and looked at the left shelf of items, blocking up almost the whole aisle. There was also a life-size carboard cut-out of either Superman or Iron Man, which blocked most of the right side of the aisle.

I had to squeeze through the fat man and the cut-out. I'm pretty sure I didn't even touch the man. But he may have turned back to look at me, as if I'd threatened him somehow.

I gave the man a complaisant, friendly smile. But the man just looked at me like he hated my guts. I walked away. I wanted to confront the guy. But I knew that that would only make things worse.

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.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a living room with a couple people I knew. One of them may have been my mother. I sat on the couch, which was positioned, it seems, in the middle of the living room, so that I was looking, to my left, into a hallway.

Somebody just next to me, on my left. This person may have been my mother. Another woman walked up to us and sat on a wooden chair that was just beside the couch. The woman was really tall and skinny, with pale skin and dark red hair. I was really attracted to her.

The woman started talking to the other person on the couch about how she'd met some guy she really liked. The guy was really sensitive and caring, and he always knew the right thing to do for the woman, or the right thing to give the woman.

This whole time, the woman may have been looking at me. The woman may have thought, in the past, that I liked her. She may have liked me as well. But I had been so ambiguous with her that she had finally given up on me. But it seeemed like even now, talking about this guy, she thought there was hope for her and me.

But the woman was still talking about the guy. She said the guy had brought her a cake the other day. The woman said the cake was a special kind of cake, something like a wedding cake. But it had blue frosting instead of white. The only white was the trim. I saw the cake in my mind's eye. It was actually pretty beautiful.

As the woman spoke about this cake, her eyes lit up, and I could tell that she really did think the man was romantic.

Dream #2

I walked into a movie theatre. The theatre was kind of small and a little bit worn-out looking. But it had stadium seating and big, cushiony chairs.

The movie was just about to start. But everybody was just filing in. Everybody here was really old and a little bit eccentric or crazy. Everybody also seemed to know each other. They were all talking with each other easily, asking about their lives.

I went to a seat a couple rows back from the front, toward the right wall of the theatre. As I was getting ready to sit down, a very pretty, professional-looking woman sat in the row behind me. Some of the people seemed to know her, though not so well, and they greeted her.

The woman seemed to be attracted to me. I was attracted to her. But I was too shy to try to flirt with her. But we may have spoken a bit, maybe about the film's director, about whom the woman didn't know very much.

The movie, or the previews, may now have been beginning. I was getting ready to sit down in the chair. But I suddenly realized that the seats in front of me had such tall backs that once I sat in my own chair, the back of the seat in front of me would be blocking half my view of the screen!

I realized this was because the ramping upward of the stadium seating didn't begin until one or two rows behind where I was right now. So I figured I'd move back a couple of rows. But I didn't want to move back behind the woman. This might make her feel like I was trying to avoid her. I definitely wasn't.

The woman, who may now have been sitting with her husband: a man about fifty or sixty years old -- and who herself may now have been about fifty or sixty years old -- asked me if my seat was alright.

I didn't want to look like I was picky about my seats. So I said my seat was alright. To get a full view of the screen I just sat on the arm of the seat, instead of sitting in the actual seat. The arm of the seat had had its cushioning torn off, and it was just a ridged, black rectangle of metal, about the size of a brick.

The movie began. It may have been from the 1970s. The opening scene may have been very colorful, with titles in lavender lettering flashing on the screen. There was also a narrator who spoke either in French (while English subtitles ran across the bottom of the screen) or in English with a French accent.

Dream #3

It was the time of the U.S. Civil War. A man from the Southern states had decided that the cause of the South was unjust. He decided he was going to stand against the South's decision to enter into war.

The man was white, tall, pale-skinned, bald on most of his head, but with unruly, long, red-brown hair along the sides and back of his head, and a long, kind of thin, red-brown beard. He wore a military uniform, it seemed to me, of a very dark blue color (which would be funny, if he was in the South *and* against the war).

The man's community decided to turn against him. I could hear a group of older men, probably about the man's age and older, conspiring against the man.

As I heard the men speak, my view became a bird's eye view of a modern-day warehouse, or a really big garage for semi-trucks. It was a sunny day. The big garage was beige-walled and brown-roofed, and seemed to be made all out of sheet metal.

The conspiring men were saying something like, "There's two kinds of people in the South: the yas'sahs, and the no'sahs." (Which meant "yes sirs," and "no sirs.") "The yas'sahs are on our side. The no'sahs are against us. And this man is a no'sah. If he isn't a no'sah, he's a friend of the no'sahs. And it's time we taught him a lesson."

The doors of the big garage opened, and three vehicles drove out of it. These vehicles seemed to have the rectangular shape of semi-trucks, but the size of garbage trucks. But they were all a dull, silvery grey, featureless, and smooth-looking, as if they were all built in one piece, except along the edges, which seemed to be barred with chrome tubing.

These trucks were made for causing trouble for people who were on the side of the no'sahs. They would go to the locations where the individual no'sah either lived or worked, and do something malicious to him, his living space, his work space, or his vehicle.

Each person had something different done to him. I can't remember what the first bad thing done was. But it involved the vehicle removing a part of its body, like it was just an outer shell, and causing that thing to transform into some means of destruction.

After that, either one or all three of the trucks went to a parking lot that held a few trailer-less semi-trucks. One of the vehicles now took off its "shell" and transformed it. It transformed into something that looked like a second front for one of the semi-trucks.

The shell was a pale silver-grey, and it didn't fit onto the semi-truck very well. It kind of sat diagonally. But this was intentional. The shell was supposed to block the truck driver's view so he would get into a wreck.

The truck driver now appeared. I don't know whether he was aware of the shell. But he drove the truck anyway. He backed his truck out of the parking space. Immediately he noticed troubles with his field of view, and also possibly with the actual ability of the truck to drive.

But the truck driver, clunking and chugging forward, barely seeing anything, decided he'd do the best he could. He drove out onto a street that was so packed with cars it was almost at a standstill. Tall buildings crowded over both sides of the street.

The truck driver was in a tight space, and he could barely see. But he knew these streets well, and he decided he'd just drive by instinct. If he trusted his instincts, based on his memory of the streets, he could get through anything.

And he was doing well. He turned right around of corner and disappeared out of my field of view.

I caught a glimpse of a sign over a shop on the corner of the street. The sign was made out of some kind of turquoise-painted, ridged steel. There were big, white letters on the sign. It gave the name of some bank, I think, Mc-----. I recognized the bank and the sign as being key landmarks for anybody familiar with this town.

I now knew that I was watching a movie. I thought to myself that the film makers had done a good job of giving an idea of what city this truck driver was in. They didn't put too much detail into it: just enough to give people a sense of the place, by using broad, general landmarks.

The movie scene changed, showing the effect of the attacking trucks on another person. The scene showed a female news reporter, speaking to the camera, giving a special report from one of the city's streets.

The view was from the news camera's point of view. But the camera view was really low, like the cameraman was in the street and crouched down really far. The news woman kept walking, sidestepping, along the sidewalk, while addressing the camera.

I knew that the trucks had attacked another man by making him crazy. He was a kind of tall, skinny white guy with frizzy brown hair and a kind of balding forehead. But he had now gone crazy, and he was running through a park (Central Park?) naked, possibly giving his money away.

The news woman was reporting on the man. But, like everybody else, she didn't know anything about why this man had gone crazy. She was just reporting that this man was dangerous. Apparently there was a risk that this man would attack people and take their money.

And now the news woman was interviewing a woman who had been attacked by the man. The woman had apparently agreed to the interview. But now she was just walking as she was talking. She was walking faster than the news woman, like she just wanted to get away from her.

The woman was white, with blonde-brown hair, fair skin, and blue-green eyes. She wore a grey sweater, and she had a green sweater wrapped around her shoulders. She also wore tight blue jeans.

The news woman asked the woman how the crazy man's attack had affected her. The woman replied that the man had taken everything she'd had on her. The news woman asked what this meant for the woman. The woman could only reply, "I'm done. I'm done."

The woman had now gotten far enough away from the news woman that the news woman stopped following her. The news woman had, apparently, stopped walking.

But the camera was no longer focused on her. Instead, it was focused on the window of a Sony store. The window was black, except for a big flat-screen TV that was showing colorful imagery.

The news woman explained that what the woman meant by, "I'm done, I'm done," was that she was completely broke. She had no money left, and she had been unemployed for a long time. She couldn't survive in the city anymore. She'd probably have to go back home.

Dream #4

An older man and his middle-aged son were sitting, apparently, in an airplane. But this airplane was more like a private airplane than a commercial one. The two men sat on a bench-like seat against the wall of the plane. Their backs were to a long but short window.

The son, who was a tiny bit overweight and had a white beard and white hair, was playing with an iPad. The father, who was very skinny, clean shaven, and had his white hair in a short, square haircut, had a bunch of newspapers on his lap.

The father addressed a camera (my view). The father said, "You know, I like the iPad. And it gives me... about... ten percent of my news for the day. But for the rest of my news, I still trust the newspaper more. Why, look at this!"

The father opened up the newspaper and began flipping through it, illustrating how easy it was for him to find the news he was looking for in all the right places. But as he was doing this, the newspaper got more and more jumbled up.

In the meantime, the son, who kept trying to get the father's attention, was scrolling really quickly through all the news, apparently on the New York Times app for the iPad.

The father was now trying to illustrate how easy it was to find something like stuff to buy from a store, or movie times, or stuff to buy out of classified ads. But he was getting really frustrated, because he couldn't actually find anything.

In the meantime, the son had found exactly what the father had been looking for on a website like a mix between the New York Times and Amazon.com. He was scrolling down to the exact thing the father wanted, and clicking on it to buy it.

As the father was getting really frustrated with the newspaper, the son called out something like, "About to buy it, right now!"

The father stopped talking and looked at the iPad. The camera view closed in on the iPad. The son seemed to be looking at a list of books. He tapped on what he wanted.

But the son wanted three of this item. So he had to click on a special word, in a three- or four-line-long list of words. As he did this, he said, "Now, let's see here. What's that process called again? Ah... filchering."

The son clicked on "filchering" and bought three items of the product his father wanted. The father was amazed! That was so fast! The father said, "Why, with that machine, you can buy things so much faster than you can buy things with a newspaper!"

The son, as the father spoke, was just smiling at the father with a weird, open-mouthed, fat-tongued expression, like a panting dog would give its master, not for being good, but for doing something really annoying.

Good morning, everybody.

For anybody interested in time and dreams, I'm pretty sure that the first dream took place in less than one minute. I woke up to a police siren, fell asleep, had the dream, and woke up to another siren.

Dream #1

I was walking through a museum, along a second floor balcony overlooking a first floor kind of atrium area. It was probably night, and it seemed like more than half the lights in the museum were turned off. I may have been looking down to the first floor, to a few glass-cased displays along one of the walls.

I was now listening to some man, who was supposed to be the father, Bill Loud, from the 1971 reality show An American Family. But the man sounded a bit younger and a bit meaner than Bill Loud. He was complaining to someone about how one of his sons, probably Lance, was too into museums.

The man complained that now the son wanted the man to go to the museums with him. But the man said, "God, what makes him think I'm interested in going off to see a bunch of tropical colored, electrical fish?"

I now sat at a dining table at the back end of the balcony area. This part of the balcony extended, it seemed, into the main part of the second floor. There may have been a number of tables here. The table I sat at was long, able to seat eight or ten people. But the only other person at the table was Lance Loud, who sat directly across from me.

We sat mostly in darkness. The only light seemed to be coming from a kitchen area, behind me and maybe twenty or thirty meters away.

I had looked down to the first floor at some point. It was now like a movie theatre, including a ground level and a balcony. And it was packed. I knew now that the creators of An American Family had come out with a new documentary, possibly further documenting the life of the Loud family.

I thought of the creators of America as Frederick Wiseman, the great documentary filmmaker. But apparently Wiseman was actually twins. There were two Wisemans.

Lance was here for the premiere of the new Wiseman documentary. But it was kind of against his will. He kind of resented the Wisemans. He felt like the An American Family reality show had ruined his family. The Wiseman twins knew that Lance felt that way. And they resented Lance as well.

Lance was busy complaining to me about the Wiseman twins when they walked past us, heading toward a stairway down to the movie theatre.

The Wiseman twins looked nothing like Frederick Wiseman. They looked more like short versions of the psychic researcher Russ Targ. They had puffy, curly, grey hair, though most of their forehead was bald. They were square-faced, though their faces were a bit wrinkly. One of the twins wore a white sweater. The other one wore a black leather jacket.

As the twins passed us, one of them made a kind of rude remark to Lance in a deep, gravelly, but loose and relaxed kind of voice. The twins knew Lance didn't want to be here, and the twins didn't want Lance to be here.

But one of the twins saw that I was sitting with Lance. He had walked to the top of the staircase. But now he turned around and came back to Lance. In a relaxed, but courteous tone he told Lance, "We're having a ----- after the show. You're more than welcome to come."

The twin walked away. Lance said, really loud, so the twin could hear him, but in such a way as to sound like he was talking only to me, "Oh, like I'd actually want to go to something like that!"

The ----- was something like a viewing of behind the scenes clips from the documentary. This was supposed to be of great interest to a lot of the people who had been involved with the film.

Dream #2

There was a man in maybe his forties who was the father of a girl in her early twenties. The father had had the chance on a couple occasions to be around the girl's circle of friends.

The father felt like it was possible that one of the men in this group would want to marry the girl. The father didn't quite feel comfortable about this. The men seemed either like total screw-ups or like people who would kind of treat the girl in a mean way.

But the father decided that he needed to get to know the guys better before he jumped to such conclusions about them.

The father was now standing out on a driveway in the late afternoon. The father was white, with tan, tough skin and a square haircut of grey and white hair. He wore a white polo shirt. He was in shape, if not actually even muscular.

The father thought it was a stroke of luck -- one of the girl's friends, the one, it seemed, the girl was most interested, was standing in the driveway as well. The father could get to know the guy.

The guy was now standing before the garage. The garage door was open. An incandescednt light lit the garage. There was no car in the garage. But at the very front of the garage was a small shelf, on which sat a few doll-like girls' toys.

The guy was standing there, staring at the doll-toys and giggling to himself. I was kind of concerned for the boy. I felt like the father might think the guy was some kind of pervert for being so interested in girls' toys. But the father didn't feel that way. The father just thought the guy was artistic, interested in these toys for an artistic reason.

The father walked up to the guy to talk to him. The guy was a bit shorter than the father. He was pale white, about half bald, with short, disarranged hair on the rest of his head. He was a little chubby, and his flabby cheeks were dotted with stubble. He wore chunky, square eyeglasses and a too-big, blue-green t-shirt.

The guy, sensing the father behind him, turned around, while still giggling at the girls' toys. He found himself face to face with the father.

But the guy didn't feel he needed to acknowledge the father at all. He kept giggling about the toys, then turned off and to his right, walking toward and then into the front door of the house.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a dressing room with a woman. The dressing room was maybe three meters long and two meters wide. It had thick, pale carpet and dim, incandescent lighting. I stood before a mirror that folded in three.

The woman, who was something like a shop worker, stood to my right. She was really attractive. She was a tiny bit taller than I. She may have been Asian. She had long, black hair and a curvy body.

She wore a cream colored blouse that showed off a lot of her skin -- the blouse was probably split really low down the chest. She also wore a very tight, maroon colored miniskirt with horizontal folds in it. The woman had an ornate tattoo running down her chest. She may also have had tattooed arms.

The woman told me I looked good in whatever it was I was trying on. For some reason, I felt like this meant she was attracted to me. I was attracted to her. I couldn't resist her. I turned to her and embraced her around the waist with my right arm.

The woman didn't seem to try to break away from me, even though I think we both knew this was probably not something we should be doing. I was feeling the electric charge of sexual arousal. I bent my head to the woman's face and began kissing her softly.

Dream #2

It was night. I had just come out of some building and found myself in a little courtyard area. The courtyard area was completely open to the sky, but it was set below street level. Everything in this courtyard was made out of reddish stone, maybe sandstone.

I walked up a wide, shallow staircase that went up to street level. As I did, some scary guy may have approached me for money. As I got to street level I thought I'd have to be careful. It was so dark out here. People like the scary guy could follow me without my easily noticing them.

I walked up into and across the street. I was obviously in the business section of a big city.The city was really clean. The streets were lined with trees.

I wondered, though, how everything in the city could actually be this dark. It was like there were no, or barely any, lights on at all. The sky was a deep, dark blue, but it seemed to provide some illumination. And there may have been orange street lamps shining from somewhere. But everything else was dark.

I then realized or remembered that there had been a power outage in the city. I was now in a living room with a young man and woman. The living room was lit, as normal, and the TV was on.

The young woman was, somehow, preparing the young man to be interviewed by some news reporter regarding his experience of the power outage. The man would know when he was supposed to do the interview by some signal from the TV. He would then travel somewhere to be interviewed.

Dream #3

My view of this dream was weird. It was often as if I were watching a TV show on an old TV screen. But the TV screen was all fuzzy and seemed to be tipped over at an angle.

The show playing seemed to be taking place in the early 1970s. A wife may have been trying to get a divorce from her husband. But the wife also wanted to be able to do something for her son, like send him away somewhere, maybe out to the southwestern or western United States.

The husband was sitting on the couch. He looked like a young business man, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties. He wore a business suit with a white shirt and a green tie with thin, widely-spaced, yellow stripes. He had a short, but almost bowl-shaped haircut.

The wife had said that son wanted to do something particular, but I can't remember what. The husband made some kind of mocking comment about what the son wanted to do, but said that the wife could go ahead and run off with the son out west to go do whatever it was the son wanted to do.

As the husband was making his remark, the scene changed to some place like a building out in the old west, like a storefront in a small town in a John Wayne movie. The view was really close-in on the storefront. A few people stood in front of the building. They may all have been wearing Hollywood-style old west clothes.

It was now a few years later. The son was now twelve, or possibly thirteen, years old. The wife was having the son prepare for the father's arrival. The son and wife hadn't seen the father in all these years. I was looking forward to the husband seeing how well the son had developed in these few years.

The son was out somewhere, playing with a few of his friends on some tree near a wooden fence. The son wore a backwards baseball cap, a kind of baggy t-shirt, and a backpack. He was fair-skinned, with red cheeks.

The son thought he would show his father a trick he could do on the tree. He thought this trick would show the father how well the son really was doing in his life.

The son climbed up the tree using small tree limbs. These limbs were barren and not very long. But they were maybe five centimeters in diameter, and they were coming out of the left side of the tree all over the place, thickly, from the base of the tree, all the way up the trunk.

The boy then climbed down the opposite side of the tree. It may have been more like sliding down the tree. Growing out of this side of the tree were something like roots, or very, very skinny and short branches. The boy seemed to believe that he could get a foothold in these little tangles. But he couldn't.

By this time, the son and wife were wondering where the father was. He should have arrived by this time. Then, suddenly, the mother had news on the father. He was in trouble. He may have been in a nearby hospital. He may have been near death. The son and wife would have to go to see him right away.

The scene changed to a vehicle like an SUV-type vehicle driving down a snow-covered road at night. I could really only see the front passenger side tire of the vehicle, and a tiny bit of the surrounding body. There were also flashing yellow and red lights reflecting around the car in the deep snow.

I knew that the father had been in some kind of really bad car accident. He may have been near the point of death. He may actually still have been out on the road.

I was now in a bedroom, possibly with one or two kids. I myself may have been a kid, maybe ten or eleven years old. We were watching something on a computer.

I then found an old commercial for Chips Ahoy! cookies. The commercial seemed to have been made in the late 1960s or early 1970s. The commercial showed various kids' faces in front of some backdrop that was lit by a bunch of brightly colored spotlights. The kids all talked about how much they liked Chips Ahoy! cookies.

Later, a frame was put around this view. It was a crude, greyish box, almost like something out of a very rudimentary computer graphics design. At the bottom of each frame was the kid's name.

I noticed that one of the kids was named Wernher von Braun. I thought, Hey, isn't that guy a Nazi? The kid was kind of chubby. He had pale, green eyes and a square buzz-cut. He wore a striped t-shirt.

I felt like I might risk some trouble for myself if I acknowledged too strongly (even mentally) that I knew this Wernher von Braun kid was a Nazi. He even seemed to be looking at me strange from the computer screen.

Suddenly the kid changed again. But it was the same kid. Only this time, the name at the bottom of the frame was Marilyn Monroe. The kid's face suddenly bulged out at the cheek, then bulged out at the head. The eyes seemed smashed down. The ears became enormous.

I got the idea that someone was trying to make some kind of joke about how Marilyn Monroe would have gotten big and fat had she lived to be old, anyway.

The kid's face went back to normal, and another name appeared at the bottom of the frame. The kid's face started to become all distorted again. This time the eyes may have bulged out.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was watching some kind of documentary or TV show about a man who had some kind of really bad disease. But I was also, somehow, in the scene, helping the man. The man's disease may have been terminal.

The man was really overweight. He had dark olive colored skin. He wore a running cap and a white, long-sleeved shirt. The man and I may have hugged or something like that. The man seemed to be really grateful that I had been helping him.

There was another scene that I'm pretty sure I wasn't in. It was more like watching a TV show. The man was standing outside, embracing a girl with his right arm. The girl was probably the man's daughter. The man and daughter were surrounded by news reporters.

The man mentioned something about his appearance. It looked awkward somehow. This was, the man explained, because he was going through sex-change therapy. The chemicals he was taking were giving him a more "feminine" appearance.

I wondered why the hell this guy was taking chemical sex-change therapy at this time. He was apparently dying from a disease. Plus, he had to take all kinds of chemicals in hopes of getting rid of this disease. Now he was taking chemicals for a sex change? It seemed like too much for his body.

Dream #2

I was in a living room with my brother. We were probably watching TV. I was laying on the floor. My brother sat on the couch.

My brother told me, "Sit up and give me the device."

As if I had no will of my own, I sat up, as if to get my brother the device he'd mentioned. My brother seemed to gloat about this. He knew he had the power to control people's minds and actions.

I told myself my brother wasn't really controlling me, and that I would get him the device, just to show that I liked my brother and I wanted to help him.

The device was up on the top of the entertainment center in which the TV sat. It may have been just to the right of a VCR or a DVD player.

The device was some sort of rocket shaped like a stick. But its propulsion mechanism wasn't an explosive. It was like a clear lens that used some kind of electronic process.

My brother had attached a camcorder to the rocket. He was going to film what the rocket did. The rocket and the camera together looked like a bottle rocket.

The rocket was made only for destructive purposes. I knew that my brother's first use of this rocket was going to be to crash it into the face of some woman on a TV news program.

In my mind's eye I saw the rocket crash into the newswoman's face. The rocket may have lodged itself pretty deeply into the newswoman's head. It had to be pulled out. When the rocket was pulled out, I may have seen a view of the newswoman's mutilated face.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was standing in a corridor that looked like it had a wheelchair ramp built into it. The wall I faced was a window wall, extending all the way down the corridor. There may have been a hairpin turn along the wall to get to a tiny, glass-walled space before the exit door.

I probably stood right at the door, inside the building. Outside stood a family. They were all telling me goodbye. The family was white, kind of well-off-looking. There were an older dad, probably a mom, and a bunch of other people.

There were two little girls in the family, and I may have been attracted to the littler one. She may have been five or six years old.

I took some chance to hug the little girl. I had a feeling that if I hugged her, we could both share our feelings of attraction for one another in some secret way. I was sure she was attracted to me, too. But I didn't want to get in trouble for showing my feelings.

Later on I may have been in some cafe. I may have been sitting at a table with a white boy. The table we sat at was against a wall. I sat on one end of the table so that the wall was to my right. The boy sat at the adjacent end, so that he faced the wall.

He was probably gay. He was tall, kind of pretty. He had his hair shaved really close on the sides and then kind of flowing on top. He wore a grey jacket, and he may have had the collar of the jacket turned up.

The boy was kind of stuck-up, it seemed to me. I was pretty sure he hated me. I didn't want to bother him. But I was also kind of angry that he acted so stuck-up. I felt threatened, and I wanted to prove somehow that I wasn't threatened.

I was now back with the family at the door. The older sister was now talking to me. The older sister was maybe ten or eleven years old. She had blonde-brown hair and tan skin. She wore a white skirt and a turquoise tank-top.

The older sister told me that the little sister had gotten sick or something, so she couldn't hug anybody. So the older sister would have to hug me instead.

I knew that the older sister was attracted to me. I knew that she thought if she could just get a chance to hug me, she'd make me attracted to her instead of to her little sister.

I hugged the girl. She wasn't skinny, but her body, around her waist, felt strong. I did feel like I was attracted to her. But I didn't want her family to know. I didn't want to get in trouble.

I walked out the door with the family. I either held hands with the older sister or managed to do something with her like lift her up onto my shoulders, so she was riding on my shoulders.

Everybody in the family seemed pretty happy. For some reason, I asked the girl something either like, "If you knew this was the last day of your life, what would you do?" or, "If this were the last day of your life, could you truly say you've died happy?"

I was now back in the cafe with the tall, white boy. I had apparently asked him some question as well. He was writing something in a notebook. His handwriting was mostly capital letters, very blocky, in something like black, felt-tip pen. But he was also answering me. I had a feeling that he was finally coming around to liking me.

Then another boy sat across the table from me. He had olive skin and black hair, with his bangs kind of spiked down a bit over his forehead. He wore a brownish sweatshirt. He also seemed to be gay.

The first boy had at some point gone to open the door of the cafe so that some cool air could flow in. But the second boy sat next to the thermostat. He turned up the heat.

The first boy asked the second boy if he'd turned up the heat. The second boy said he had. It wasn't clear whether he'd done it because the open door was making him cold or because he wanted to keep the heat at a level that was sure to annoy the first boy.

The first boy stood up to go close the cafe door, assuming that if he did that, the second boy would turn down the thermostat. But as he stood up, the first boy said to the second boy, "You know, I'm really beginning to despise you."

Good morning, everybody.

I'm not quite sure whether the first dream isn't actually two dreams. The part in the bar may have been one dream, and the rest may have been another dream. I wrote it as one dream, since I don't remember waking up between scenes. But it may actually have been two dreams.

Dream #1

I was sitting with a few girls in a dark bar. The only light may have been from little, multi-colored lights like Christmas lights, except seeming a bit softer, and, at the same time, more neon-colored. My whole view seemed to be a bit fuzzy.

I was waiting for some girl. But apparently she was really late. I may have started to think that she wasn't going to show up. I pushed my chair backwards and away from the table, as if my chair had wheels on it.

I moved past a number of tables. The tables seemed to be half-booth tables, where one side of the seats is a booth, set against the wall, and the other side is moveable chairs. I stopped moving backwards when I got to a table full of office women, maybe in their late thirties.

The office women seemed to be flirting with me. I thought they were all attractive. So I thought I might flirt back. Maybe one of them would hook up with me.

But now I was moving my chair forward, back to the girls I had been sitting with. As soon as I got back to the table, a girl sat right in my lap.

The girl wasn't skinny, but she was pretty. She had pale, smooth skin and longish, brown hair, all done up, like she was going to the prom. She wore a satiny, pale-chocolate-brown mini-dress with silvery, swirly designs on it. The designs may have been glittery.

The girl, I somehow knew, had been upset because someone hadn't shown up. I thought that this person was supposed to go on a date with the girl. But the person may also have been the girl's father.

The girl and I were now snuggling against each other pretty passionately. I figured I must have been snuggling with the girl to make her feel less bad about having been ditched by the other guy. After a moment, the girl broke off from snuggling with me. My view was all foggy, like someone had been kissing a camera lens.

I figured the girl was going to come back. But I didn't know if, once she came back, I could really commit to being with her. After all, wasn't I waiting for some girl here?

But the other girls at the table were looking at me. It was pretty plain they thought that I was already thinking of this girl as my new girlfriend. One of the girls handed me some kind of present, like a congratulations gift for getting a new girlfriend.

The gift was like some clear, plastic tubing made to look like a rose. There was a main stem, two small, leaf-like stems branching off of that, and then a clear, plastic rose-blossom (which was more like a bud) at the top.

All through the tubing and in the rose-blossom/bud were little lights, like LEDs. The stem may have had blue or green LEDs. The blossom/bud either had blue or purple LEDs.

I thought, getting a gift like this, that I couldn't back out of being the girl's boyfriend now.

I was now sitting out on a bench with an older man and another person. The other person may have been a man, or it may have been my mom. If it was a man, it was probably like my mom's old boyfriend, who was now standing up as a kind of character reference for me with the man.

The man was the girl's father. Apparently I needed the girl's father's approval before my relationship got too heavy with the girl. The father was kind of tall, overweight, with greying hair in a kind of feathery, old-style cut. He wore a white t-shirt and blue jeans.

It was night, but we were sitting in the father's backyard, right near the house, under an incandescent porch light. There seemed to be a huge, tent-like structure right in front of us, possibly big enough to be taking up a good portion of the backyard.

The father and the other person were talking relaxedly about some stuff that seemed a bit over my head, like "adult talk."

I stood up and walked over to the tent. I went inside. The tent was lit by incandescent light. The inside had solid, plasticky, but thin walls. The top of the structure kind of pointed upward in a pyramid shape, like circus tents do in cartoons. The top was made of tent-like fabric. There was no floor -- just bare soil.

The father and the other person walked into the tent. Somehow, from the conversation, perhaps, I came to understand that this structure was the outer housing for a nuclear reactor. The reactor was now going to be built.

I was here, I now knew, to get a job from the father, who was in charge of building the reactor. I needed a job, since I was going to get into a pretty serious relationship with the father's daughter. After talking with the other person a little more, the father said that I could have a job helping to build the nuclear power plant.

It was now daytime. I was still in the structure, as if no time had passed. But now the structure was a lot taller and bigger: as big as a small warehouse. The ceiling had all kinds of metal piping in it, and it seemed to be separated by a couple of meters from the tops of the walls. There was a guy in a hard-hat, suspended by a wire, working on something between the ceiling and walls.

I somehow knew there was at least one other structure like this. But there may have been two other structures. One of the structures may have been a lot more developed than this one. It may already have had a reactor built inside of it. (I think I was visualizing a cooling tower *inside* this structure.)

The person who'd been talking with the father was now gone. The father may have been around for a second, but now he was gone, too. It was implied that I knew what I was supposed to be doing, so that I should get to work. But I didn't know any of my co-workers, and I was really shy.

Suddenly there was a big explosion. There were a couple other people in the structure with me. Apparently the explosion had come from one of the other structures. We needed to assess the situation. We ran outside.

The area was like a big, vacant dirt lot. But at the end of the lot, maybe 50 meters from the structure I'd been in, was a little shelter like a doorless shelter where farm vehicles could be parked.

I was hardly even outside when I noticed that everybody else was already over in the shelter across the way, putting on raditation suits. There were three or four men in a line, all young, Asian men. They all wore white masks over their mouth and nose.

The men were in different stages of putting on the suits. The suits were yellow, thick, and rubbery. The men had stood into them, apparently, as they lay crumpled on the ground. They'd then pull the yellow suits all the way up over their heads, then zip the suits up. The suits may have had red boots.

I may actually have flown to the shelter to get there faster. I don't think I stopped flying. Instead, still floating, I was looking for a free suit. I saw a couple suits lying crumpled up on the floor, waiting for people to stand into them. So I thought they were available. But looking closer, I noticed they had some men's clothes in them. So, apparently, they were already taken.

I "knew" that there were more suits in an underground storage area just across the lot from this shelter. So I jumped up maybe four or five meters in the air and flew over to the shelter.

The shelter was in an area at the edge of some hillside or canyon. The hillside looked out over a lot of green, rolling hills, like in some kind of juniper- or pinyon-strewn desert. The sky was pale grey. But the horizon was filled with low-hanging, dark grey clouds.

The underground shed was fenced off from everything else by a two-meter-tall wooden fence, which was kind of old and greying. The doors to the underground shed were just like the doors to an old cellar. Their wood was also old and grey, kind of messy.

I lifted up the doors once and looked down into the underground shed. It was really dark and messy. I thought I probably wouldn't be able to find anything down there, let alone a radiation suit. I was also afraid that if I went down there, something would jump up and attack me.

The doors must have fallen shut, because I had to open them again. Only now they were a lot bigger and heavier, though still made out of old, greying wood. They also seemed to be set into a large, heavy, concrete circle.

I needed to get both doors open in order to go inside, but I could only get one door open at a time. I had to fly to lift the doors -- they were either too tall or too heavy for me to lift otherwise. But as soon as I'd get one side open, the other side would fall shut. It somehow reminded me of how I'd get frustrated as a kid, not being able to fold the flaps of a cardboard box.

I may have stood on the ground for a moment, taking some time to figure out how to do this the right way. I looked out at the hillside and grey sky.

I suddenly saw, maybe only 250 meters away, a red and blue passenger plane, a big jumbo jet, flying up into the air rather clumsy. I then noticed that the plane's right wing was entirely gone. The plane seemed to be smoking. I tried to remember whether I'd heard any explosion.

The plane seemed to be trying to pull into the air. In fact, it was pointing almost straight up. But it wasn't going anywhere. It was just bobbing in the air, maybe 100 or 200 meters up in the air.

I kept waiting for some kind of explosion. I figured it the wing had blasted off without an explosion, then something deeper had happened that would work its way out in a huge explosion.

It seemed now like the plane was trying to land. The airport the plane had come from was nearby, across a couple sets of rolling hilltops from the fenced-off area that I was in. The plane was still pointed up in the air, but it seemed to be bobbing back over to the airport.

The plane made a final descent into the airport. But it was still pointing nose-up. I couldn't see it as it descended behind the red-brick walls of the airport (???).

But the plane now seemed to be almost as big as the airport. As it descended -- crashed -- tail-first on the tarmac, it exploded in a big fireball, which only got bigger as the rest of the plane was consumed. A huge fireball now burst up over the tops of the airport's building.

But the exploding airplane was causing other explosions at the airport. I figured these were other planes, exploding from the heat and flames from the first plane's explosion. Soon a huge wave of fire was tearing through the airport. The entire airport was on fire!

Somehow I saw a set of doors at the airport -- as if the airport were now only 50 meters or so away from me. The flames had passed an area, although there was still a lot of brown smoke. The doors around this area were like doors in some sort of theme park or shopping center themed like the Old West.

A husband and wife ran out from one of the doors. They felt, I knew, that now that the flames had passed, they could make a run from the airport. They probably felt that if they stayed at the airport any longer, they'd risk getting caught in a second wave of flames.

So they ran away from the airport. They saw me in the fenced-off area with the underground shed. I waved them in.

The couple was maybe in their early fifties. They looked like they were maybe upper-middle class. The woman may have been pale skinned and a bit overweight, with frizzy, blonde hair. The man was compact but strong, tan, with short, wiry, grey-white hair. He wore a black polo shirt and, possibly, khaki shorts.

The couple may have told me what they had just gone through and that they were trying now to get to safety. I understood that what they meant was that they wanted to get back to their house.

I didn't know where the couple's house was. But I knew that there was a main road farther along the hillside. There were also a really big shopping center and people who could conveniently get the couple a car to get wherever they wanted to get.

But to get the couple to this place, I'd have to fly them there. I thought I could fly both of them there. But I'd have to lift them into the air one at a time. This was more to make sure that each of them wouldn't be afraid of heights as I flew them over the hills.

I *think* I lifted the woman into the air first. But we barely got off the ground before the woman got terribly afraid. I landed again. The woman ran over to some corner of the fenced-off area that had a little outdoor structure like a tool-shelf and work-counter, all made of old wood. The woman wouldn't leave that area. She was hysterical with a fear of heights.

(If it *was* the woman. It may have been the man.)

I now tried to lift the man (? or woman?) into the air. But I found that I couldn't fly up into the air with the man. He was way too heavy. This was surprising to me, as usually my flying had the effect of cancelling out gravity, so that everything I flew with weighed nothing. But the man wasn't losing any weight. He was still heavy.

Dreams #2

I was apparently telling people about a precognitive vision I'd had. It had to do with some kind of nuclear reactor, which looked more like a big piece of old factory equipment, with cogs and gears and cranks and wheels.

I was probably telling two people about my vision. The people may both have been women. They may have been wearing white lab coats.

I told the people that this particular reactor was different than almost other reactors, because two crank-wheels, which, in other machines, were set outside the reactor, were, in this model, set inside the housing of the reactor.

In my mind's eye I could see a small, steel door that opened up to get inside this "reactor" (or huge piece of old-time factory equipment). The inside was mostly gears, all tightly-packed, lit with a kind of dim, incandescent light. There were two crank-wheels, one in front of the other.

I told the people that the problem wasn't actually with the crank-wheels, but with a pane of glass either between or off to the (left --my left (?)) side of the wheels.

This pane of glass had a problem with it. It was forming, inside of itself, red streaks. The red streaks actually looked like drops of blood.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was at a train station at night. I might have been with one other person. Otherwise, the place was empty. The station was like a short, long, covered platform with fluorescent lights, with another platform, which was uncovered and completely dark. It kind of felt like I was in the middle of nowhere.

One train came on the tracks at the covered platform. I noticed either that it was the wrong train or that it was going in the wrong direction. It was like these trains were running on subway lines, even though I wasn't familiar with these lines.

There might have been two different lines at this station. Both the lines had "Queens" as one of their final destinations. One of the lines had a town that sounded like "Cambridgeshire" (???) as the second of its final destinations.

I was looking for a train heading away from Queens. Another train was arriving, this time at the uncovered tracks. I was pretty sure it was heading away from Queens, so I thought it might be the right train. I walked over to the train.

The train was very tall, with the actual car maybe one and a half meters off the ground. The inside of the train was totally dark. The train was about to pull away. I got the impression that this was the wrong train. To double check, right before the train pulled away, I jumped up twice into the air, flashing a "sign" (basically, my hands were both lifted up and spread out, as if I were trying to give someone two high-fives) into the train.

I knew now that this was the wrong train. The train may have started to pull away. I realized some person in control of some kind of rail operations had seen me flash the signs into the train. I wondered if he would think I was trying to cause some trouble, or that I had thrown something dangerous onto the train.

I walked away from the platform. I may have been hoping to find my friend and stick to him, so that nobody would think I was dangerous.

I was now with my brother and sister in a kitchen. The kitchen was probably really dim, which may have made it feel really small and crowded. We were gathered around a smallish, round, fake-wood table. One or two of us may have been standing. The other/s was/were standing.

One of us, possibly my sister, may have mentioned something bad about the way my dad had been treating us. Later, somehow, I saw my dad. He was talking to me or to everybody. But he couldn't remember my name. It was simply like he hadn't had anything to do with me for so long that he couldn't remember my name. He may have apologized for this fact. I may have told him it was okay.

Later, my dad was changing diapers. He may have been changing my diapers, although I seemed to be at least partly separated from the person changed, and the person being changed probably did seem like a small baby. The diaper was a small diaper, for a really litttle baby. It was full of urine, and it smelled horrible.

My dad may have been balling up this diaper. He may now actually have been complaining, as if his inability to remember my name were an actual shortcoming of my own.

Dream #2

I was out on a sunny balcony. The floor was probably concrete. The barrier and the apartment wall may have been bright white. I may have been sitting at something like a school desk, looking out and across to another huge building.

There was a black man behind me. He was a schoolteacher. Apparently I had been studying the subject he taught, all on my own. He was very impressed by the amount of independent interest I'd shown in his subject. He gave me some words of encouragement, then said he was going to teach his class now.

There was apparently a window to my left. I heard it open. I knew that the teacher's classroom was actually the room with the window. I looked in through the screen as the teacher began his lesson. He had erased something off a chalkboard and then written a long, kind of complex equation on the board. Somehow he made it very easy to understand, very simple.

I realized the teacher had been giving the lecture for me. So I decided to at least go in and listen, to show him I was thankful that he'd thought of me. I walked into the building.
Before the classroom there was a small alcove. I had left "my backpack" in this alcove. My textbook (as if I were actually in the teacher's class now) was in my backpack. As I went to get it, I passed the doorway into the classroom. I saw that everybody in the classroom was sitting in very small chairs, possibly with no desks.

The teacher began to criticize everybody for some kind of sloppy aspect of their work. It may have had something to do with not bringing either their work or their textbooks to class. I felt like this criticism was largely directed at me. But I felt like at least today I couldn't be criticized for not bringing my book to class.

I opened my backpack and pulled my book out. It was jammed into my backpack, amid a whole bunch of loose papers, possibly with equations all over them.

I was now out on a street in the suburbs. I was trying to get somewhere on time. I had probably left class at an awkward time specifically so I could get to this other place on time. I was walking along a street which may have felt like it was along some kind of ridge, looking down to an expanse of blocks of houses. The sky was dim, smoky grey, almost dirty-coppery.

I felt drops of rain. I thought I should head back home (?) to get either a raincoat or an umbrella. I actually turned back and walked a few steps "toward home." But I decided that since I was wearing a red, waterproof jacket, I didn't need either a raincoat or umbrella. I turned back in the direction of my destination.

I now felt a lot of rain. I turned back again, thinking I really should go back home for something. But I turned right back around, toward my destination. I figured if I hurried I could make it without getting extremely wet.

At the same time I heard a group of young boys, maybe ten or so years old, rough-housing with each other. One of the boys, a kind of shaggy-haired, blonde boy with gold-tan skin and wearing a baggy, green, plaid, flannel shirt and baggy jeans, recognized me. He shouted out to me in his rough-housing voice.

I kept walking, as if I didn't hear the boy. I knew I had promised before that I would play with him. But I couldn't do it now. I had to get to my destination. If the boy were to think I'd heard him, he'd follow me. And I didn't want him to follow me, either. I thought he'd get bored. I walked faster away.

But the boy kept following me. He called after me. I was walking fast, almost running, along a grass ridge looking down to the blocks of houses in the valley. Finally I said to the boy, "Fine. You can come along -- if you can follow me!"

I started running down a street on a slope. But I was running in something like a crawling position. But the crawling was very fast and low, almost like the height and speed of Luke Skywalker's flying car in Star Wars. (Although, on waking, I'd thought that my running position had been something like that of a scorpion.)

It was raining a lot by now. I "ran" down a steeply sloped street and then down a gently sloped street. I sped through a few more streets, zigzagging around corners. But the boy was still behind me.

I was now probably approaching my destination. I was in an area that felt like it was indoors, even though it probably was outdoors. The sky (if it was a sky) was dark.

I ran past a power plant, which was a huge area, full of shiny, silvery metal pipes, all tightly banded together, and weird, beaker-shaped structures maybe three meters tall, also made out of the silvery metal, but with some kind of blue circles on them, possibly on their bases.

It was like I was "running" on a path or aisle space around this power plant. The power plant was on my left. As I turned a corner to my left, a grocery store chain's warehouse stood on the right side of the path. It was possibly for a Kroger's, King Sooper's, or Safeway chain.

I ran around another left corner, but I found that the grocery warehouse building was going to merge with the power plant. It did, and as I rounded another corner, I found myself in a culdesac made out of the structures of the power plant and the walls of the grocery warehouse.

I turned around. The boy hadn't gotten around this last corner, but he wasn't far behind. I ran into him at some kind of stairway or something. We were definitely indoors now.

I looked to my right and saw, a ways away, a few women beyond a door and in something like a library. The women were all maybe in their mid or late twenties. They were all really pretty, with really nice bodies, and they were all dressed professionally.

I "remembered" that I had just come from that library. I had had to take a subway home from there, possibly with a group of kids I had volunteered to supervise. We'd taken a cicrcuitous route, and we'd needed to change trains at least once. After all that trouble, I "remembered," we'd only gotten to this place. But this place was a very short walk from where we'd started! I kind of thought that sometimes the train was more trouble than it was worth.

But as the boy and I walked through a set of swinging doors (like doors going into the back area of a grocery store, like a meat area), I looked back over to the girls in the library. I felt like if I kept looking at them long enough, while they were unaware of me, I'd catch some of them starting to make out with each other. I was pretty sure they were all gay, but that they were just hiding it from me.

The boy and I were now in a small, foyer-like area. To my left, the area seemed to fade off into something like an outdoor area with a maze of metal staircases. To my right was another set of doors, hard double-doors like the entrance to the school. Before me was a window wall. It was night outside and dark in this foyer-like space.

The boy was now a girl. She was a freshman in high school, and I was a senior in college. But this girl still liked me. And I probably liked her. There was another girl with us. She was probably my age.

I left the situation. The older girl told the younger girl that if she liked me she should just go with it. She should tell me she liked me.

There was now a view of the girl's family. The oldest son of the family was in a coma. The mother was watching over him. The son seemed to be laid out on a bed-like table in a room that kind of looked like a bedroom in a suburban house.

Now the scene had changed. The woman was still watching over the oldest son. But the mother was now with another woman, or possibly another two women her age. None of the women may have been wearing pants.

The mother told the other women, "My daughter told me, 'I don't care what you think! I'm just gonna live my life and love who I wanna love!'" The mother was saying this in a bragging tone, as if she were proud of her daughter standing up for herself and going out with an older boy.

The mother walked away from the group, still talking about some of the things her daughter had said. The mother's panties were loose, and I saw something jutting out from the back of the crotch, like a maxi pad or a diaper.

I was now standing out on some sidewalk, possibly in a space like out in front of an airport. It was morning. The sun was up, but it wasn't over the buildings, so there were little shafts of gold light and big pools of grey-blue shadow. It may have been cold outside.

I was out on the sidewalk with a young man who probably looked a lot like Lance Loud from the reality show An American Family. The young man was in something like the situation the girl had been in. Except now the situation was that the young man was gay. He'd told his mother, but she didn't approve. They'd gotten into an argument and hadn't spoken with each other in a while.

But now the oldest son had woken out of his coma and was coming with his mother to meet the young man. The car pulled up to the curb. The oldest son, who kind of looked like a young Andy Warhol in terrible, sixties-style clothes, got out of the car and greeted the young man.

The oldest son said, "What's the deal man? I know you need to express yourself. But think of how I did it! Do it with a little more sense and tact."

The oldest son himself was apparently gay. He had, however, broken the news to his mother with a lot better results.

The oldest son then asked the young man, "By the way, do you have any cash I might be able to borrow?"

The oldest son and the young man walked down a few cars, to an old, seventies-style cadillac which had just pulled up. It was a drug dealer's car. The oldest son and the young man were apparently going to shoot up on heroin right there, in front of everybody. The young man even had one of his sleeves rolled up!

The three of us were now in some trash-strewn area at the base of columns for a bridge. We were all sitting in furniture, like a whole living froom set had been laid out in this trash-strewn area. We were all waiting for some guy, possibly someone like a drug dealer, or someone to gived us money for drugs.

As we waited, the oldest son turned on a song by Elliott Smith, probably from his album Figure 8. I thought I knew the song. But I was only getting half the words. I wondered to myself if the oldest son liked Elliott Smith because he kind of sounded like Lance Loud. Lance Loud was something of a gay icon. So if Elliott Smith sounded like Lance Loud, maybe gay males sympathized with him. (WTF???)

The next song to play was a Beatles song. It was to the tune of "This Boy," but it had something to do with the words "Sweet Girl" or "Sweet Angel." I managed to half-sing along with this song as well.

I began to wonder if the young man was getting jealous of me. I knew all the songs the oldest son was playing. I seemed to be showing off that fact. Would the oldest son think I knew a lot, and would he fall in love with me? Was I taking the oldest son's love away from the young man? I may have stoppedd singing at this point, so it wouldn't look like I was singing to impress the oldest son.

Dream #3

I walked into a narrow-looking shop on a narrow, stage-like street of wood-fronted buildings. The store was something like a Victoria's Secret. It was getting close to closing time. There were three girls working at the shop, all talking with each other. None of them seemed too worried about my presence.

I looked around the shop. There were all kinds of panties for little girls. There was apparently lingerie somewhere as well. For some reason I thought I'd try on some of the lingerie. I thought I'd buy some of the little girl panties and wear them while I tried on the lingerie. I thought I'd ask the women working at the store if they were okay with this. (WTF?)

But the girls were still talking and joking with each other, apparently getting ready to close the shop for the night. And I still couldn't find the lingerie.

I climbed up on top of one table and then scaled up a bunch of wall-mounted racks. High up in a rack I found more little girl's panties. One pair was pink, satiny, skinny-looking panties. Another pair was like satiny boy-short panties. They were mostly pink, with some blue on the hips. They also had some design like a weird, almost tribal-looking, but cartoony, butterfly on them.

I mayy eventually have spoken with one of the girls.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was watching my oldest nephew playing a 3D version of Pac-Man. The view was almost like the old version of Gauntlet, where you could see thed action from above. The maze seemed to be made out of blue bricks, with a slightly darker blue stone floor. The corridors were full of pellets -- not just a line of pellets, but tons of pellets throughout the corridors.

Pac-Man was a kind of small, yellow sphere that wobbled all over the place. Pac-Man almost seemed as small as the large power pellets. The ghosts were also small. I watched Pac-Man eat a couple of ghosts early on in the game. Something about the view at that point reminds me very much of the old arcade version of Pac-Man.

After Pac-Man ate the three ghosts, he ended up getting chased by a number of other ghosts. He very narrowly escaped getting caught by a ghost. I'd even thought he had gotten killed. He then meandered through a few curves, then along the top of the maze.

Finally, Pac-Man went down a long, straight corridor. First, the corridor was just stuffed with pellets. Then it was stuffed with both pellets and ghosts. The ghosts stood still, just like the pellets. The ghosts were big, too. They were almost like statues.

Pac-Man could move past them, even touch them. He only had to make sure he didn't get their attention somehow. If he did, they'd come alive. Then he'd either have to evade or fight them.

At the very end of the corridor, things kind of emptied out. But Pac-Man found two ghosts. Both ghosts were blue (maybe all the ghosts in this long corridor had been blue). These two ghosts were Pac-Man's friends. One seemed to have a French-sounding name. Another seemed to have a Japanese-sounding name. They both spoke to Pac-Man with kind of high, digitized voices -- kind of like Robocon, telling Pac-Man they'd defend him.

An enemy suddenly appeared. It was kind of small, maybe as big as or a little bigger than Pac-Man. It appeared to be a ghost or spirit wearing armor. The body looked like a normal body. But the head had huge horns (also armored) coming out the sides. The armor was bone-white. The enemy looked a little like an enemy in an original Nintendo game, like Ghosts 'N Goblins.

Pac-Man shot the ghost with some kind of jelly-sphere bullets. The enemy may have touched Pac-Man's ghost friends, causing them to turn transparent. Eventually, Pac-Man defeated the enemy. He now got to advance to the next level.

The next screen looked like a blue mansion in a dark blue night. The mansion looked run down. It was probably a haunted mansion. The view closed in on the balcony of the mansion.

Something happened, and my nephew explained it to me. He said that Pac-Man had been something in his first life and something else in his third life. It was like Pac-Man was in his second life right now. He needed to come here to either fulfill or change something in his second life so the destinies of his first and third lives would be okay.

Dream #2

There were two different princes in two separate kingdoms. The two princes seemed to be living in medieval Europe. Thed two princes may have known each other. They had both gotten in trouble in very similar ways, and they were both getting to a point in their lives where if they didn't change soon, they'd never be able to live up to their full potential.

The mother of the first prince explained the prince's situation to him. The mother and the prince were in the prince's room. The mother was brutally frank with the boy, who was probably in his late teens. The mother then left the room.

The second mother was now in the second prince's room. This prince wore a strange, big, puffy headdress, like fortune tellers or genies in movies sometimes wear. The headdress had alternating strips of black satin and multi-colored, possibly flower-printed satin.

The second mother and second prince were almost joking with each other about what a mess the second prince had made of things. But the mother then got serious. She told the boy he really needed to change his life before it was too late. She also said something like she would discuss what she meant in more detail later. She then left the room.

The boy's father walked into the room. He was Billy Dee Williams. But he acted very feminine, and he may have been a little skinny. He may also have been wearing a tight, black sweater and tight, black pants, like a modern dancer, completely out of character with this medieval setting.

The father seemed to be in love with his son like a woman would be in loved with a man. He got really close to the boy, almost as if to kiss him, and asked the boy what it was that got him in trouble, and what the mother had told the boy. But the boy couldn't quite say what the mother had said. He was actually waiting for the more serious discussion she'd have with him.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a house all by myself. The house was one story. The living room was huge, but it was extremely cluttered, as if laundry and blankets were strewn everywhere. It was early morning and dark.

My mother and the rest of the family had left the house some time ago. They had probably left for at least a few days. I had the house all to myself. I didn't live here with my family, but I was "in town" for a few days.

I walked into a bedroom which was just off from the living room and right next to the front door of the house. The room was really small, maybe twice as big as the small bed inside it. It was also extremely cluttered.

I may have heard a car arriving outside. I knew it was my father. I think my mom and the rest of my family had left because they knew my dad was coming for a visit and they wanted to avoid him.

I walked out into the living room through some kind of thin sheet that was now hanging over the doorway to the bedroom. My dad was already in the house. I was wearing a red and white trucker cap. My dad may have been wearing one as well.

My dad may have asked me why I was up so early. I said, "I always get up this early. This is when I go to work. In fact, I'm heading to work right now."

My dad and I were looking toward a huge sliding glass door to the backyard. But our view to the backyard was blocked by a thin, yellow curtain and possibly also a white dry-erase board.

My dad asked if I always go to work this early. I told him I did, and that I tried to work pretty late as well. My dad said, "Well, my habit has always been to do Fridays only from nine to five. I thought you might do the same thing. At least on Fridays."

Dream #2

I was in a grocery store, getting checked out. The front of the store had big windows running along the wall, looking out on a bright, sunny parking lot. I felt like something, almost like a big piece of machinery, was behind me, making it very uncomfortable for me to stand in the checkout line.

A thin, Latina girl just a bit shorter than I was bagging my groceries. She asked me at some point about my work. I was away from work and I needed to get back. I may actually have been picking up supplies for some kind of work party. The girl may have asked me if my work was really strict with how long I was away.

I told the girl about my hours and what I did at work. She had bagged my stuff and was now walking out of the store with me, helping me take my bags to the car.

I was out in the parking lot. I may have been by myself. A few kids whom I may have thought of as a group of kids I'd taken out on volunteer projects came walking up. I was a little shy, but I called out to them. We kept talking, but for some reason I kept heading to my car, which was a few aisles away.

I now saw that my sister was among the kids. I couldn't see my sister or the kids anymore, but I was "talking" with my sister. She told me she would try to be back at home for whatever party I was throwing. But she wasn't sure she could make it. But if she didn't make it I shouldn't be upset. Because she -----

Dream #3

I was in a hotel lobby. The interior was small, but furnished with nice wood and chairs. But the light was a terribly drab fluorescent. I sat at some couch.

I got a call from my grandmother. She said she had prepared some form for me so I could stay at this hotel for a kind of long period of time. I now had the "form" in my right hand. It was on an iPad. The form was black with white lettering. The blanks, when not written in, were an orange-fadey color.

My grandma said she'd filled in a lot of the form. I noticed she had filled in my social security number. I was kind of surprised by that. But my grandma said, "Yeah, of course I have your social security number. I can get that if I want. I can even have them give me your social security card if I want. It comes with being your grandmother."

I felt slightly inconvenienced at having to be at this hotel, but I figured I'd stay here anyway, since my grandma had done so much to secure a place for me.

But either I or my grandma pointed out that the forms would not be finalized for a while. I told my grandma, "If thats's the case, I need to go somewhere else until the forms are finalized. These people don't like having me here in the first place. And having me here without my permanent forms finalized is just an excuse for them to give me a bad time."

I spoke with my grandma about where I should go while I wait. My view was now of a map. It was apparently a map of Colorado, where I grew up. I kept travelling south on a red road on the map, through a number of towns notated by circles. The color of the map changed from pale lime green to yellow.

I kept telling my grandma I couldn't stay in any of the towns my vision passed through, as the people in those towns all hated "people like me." I eventually went south of Colorado's border, which was much more jagged and rounded than it is IWL. There were three towns just south of the border. I may have figured one of those towns would be safe for me to stay in.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was down on a subway platform. There were no lights on the platform. It was like the power had gone out. The only light was from a stairwell leading directly up to the ground. That light was enough to keep things nearby visible, though still very dim. But farther along the platform it was pitch black. There were a few other people on the platform.

I was waiting for a B-train. But somehow I heard the train was going to be delayed. I figured I'd wait around a bit. To occupy myself, apparently, I jumped up a meter or so in the air and kicked one of the metal column-beams with both my feet.

I think I came to understand that the train was going to be very delayed. I wondered if I might catch another orange train: maybe the D-train. But I thought that would also be pointless. I thought I might as well get out of here and go to another station. But, for some reason, I still decided to wait for the B-train.

There was now a little girl and her father. The little girl was maybe two or three years old. She had short, brown hair and was wearing lavender-colored shirt and pants.

The little girl was showing off to socialize with me. She was doing some weird kind of hopping thing, hopping up and down, as if she couldn't control herself because she was so nervous.

I liked the attention, so I didn't notice that the girl was getting carried away. She hopped a little too far and fell onto the tracks. She landed on her feet and didn't seem afraid or anything, but I knew it was a bad situation for her to be on the tracks, and I kept worrying that she would touch the third rail and get electrocuted.

Before I could really process anything completely, a big, muscular, blonde man like a soldier rushed up from behind me. He quckly (and softly!) jumped down onto the tracks, picked up the girl, and hopped back up onto the platform. He set the girl down, standing, a couple meters away from her father. He then sat down next to the father. The father was now apparently sitting cross-legged on the platform concrete.

The girl may now have been sitting on the concrete amid a bunch of blankets. I crouched or crawled around in front of the girl, to play with her. Apparently she liked me because I had a good imagination and I could play kids' games as if they were real.

Somehow I knew the girl was already pretending I was some kind of creature. I asked her what kind of creature I was. I figured that I'd then act out being the creature in somekind of wacky way.

The girl told me I was a bug. I tried really hard to think of a bug, but none came to my mind. Eventually, I crawled on my knees and held my arms behind my back, rubbing them together. Apparently my arms were supposed to be wings, and I was rubbing them together to clean them. This may somehow have reminded me of being a fly.

I was now in some kind of foresty area, talking with Matte (from DV). He looked a little too skinny, and his face was stubbly and haggard. I worried about him and told him he needed to eat more and keep up his weight.

I was now in a kitchen. At first there were a young man and a young woman. But the young woman, probably having fixed her meal, left the kitchen. The young man may have been shirtless. He always had his back to me. He was either cooking on a stove or waiting for something in a microwave.

Matte had been taking a shower, but now he came into the kitchen to cook some food. The kitchen counter was L-shaped, and, as the young man stood at the back part of the counter, Matte stood at the right part. Matte was also cooking at a stove. So the counter may have had two separate stoves.

Matte was cooking using a wide, flat, square kind of pan with a non-stick, black interior. He was cooking a few pieces of fish, some pieces of bare chicken, and some french fries. He was cooking them all in a ton of grease.

I thought to myself that it was good that Matte was cooking and eating this much protein. He really needed it. But I knew that that kind of diet would tie my weak stomach in knots. So I'd have to think of some diet of my own.

Good afternoon, everybody. I hope everybody is doing well.

Dream #1

I was laying on a bunch of blankets on the floor in a living room. I was laying on my stomach. There might have been a bunch of people also laying in the living room with me. I could sense a cat walking toward me. The cat lay down near the right side of my head. It began purring. It felt kind of nice to have the cat wanting to sleep near me, although it was a little annoying that the cat wanted to sleep on my head.

Dream #2

I was in some plaza-like area with a woman and her daughter. The mother was youngish, blonde, with pale skin. The girl was maybe 6 years old, blonde, with tannish skin. The mother and daughter sat on some crescent-shaped bench made of concrete.

For some reason I had to go to a museum. The museum was just down the street. I was now in the museum. But all the exhibits were kind of terrible, and there was some kind of pervasive, menacing feel to the place. So, disgusted, I left.

I was now back with the mother and daughter in the plaza. The woman asked me about the museum. I was telling her good things about the museum. She said she might take her daughter there. I figured the woman wanted me to go with her, like it was a date. But I was too shy to say anything.

I sat over on some chair away from the bench. The little girl came and lay across my lap. She lay stomach down and had her shirt pulled up halfway up her back. I massaged the girl's back. I understood from this that the girl wanted me to ask her mom on a date. She wanted me to be part of the family.

I figured I would ask the mom on a date. But now I had to go to some thing like a job interview or a medical examination.

I went to the examination and came back. The mother and daughter were just about ready to leave the plaza for the museum. I figured this would be good for me. I could say that I was just going back to the museum, too, and that we could all go together. That way it would be like a date, but I wouldn't have to ask for a date.

I saw a father, possibly an older, Asian man, with his son, who was a little boy, maybe 5 or 6 years old. The boy was sitting across the man's lap somehow, possibly as the man's legs were fully extended.

Dream #3

There was some kind of snake that had some kind of material in it. When the material was taken out, the snake would become invisible. The material could be put back into the snake, but the snake would not become visible again.

Good morning, everybody. I recall three dreams from last night. The third dream definitely occurred between 5 AM and 7 AM.

Just as a side note, in waking life my opinions about South Africa and Chile are not like the portrayals in the second and third dreams. The "South Africa" and "Chile" of my dreams are more a reflection of myself.

The "keyhole" comment the father makes in the third dream is absolutely influenced by the "keyhole" comment the prospective stepfather makes in Laurel Nakadate's movie The Wolf Knife.

Also, I seem to portray myself as some kind of awesome ladies' man and businessman. It would be cool if I were. But, alas...

Dream #1

I may have seen this dream from the third person, and from a very low angle, possibly as low as the floor.

A man was standing on some lower level of floor, and possibly also separated by a barrier, from two other people. The man was probably young, though he may have acted old.

The man was bragging about how McDonald's in his country was better than McDonald's in America. The other two people asked him to explain why.

The man, agitated, shouted, "Well, for example, Big Macs! In my country, our secret sauce has an extra special ingredient!"

The other two asked what this ingredient was.

The man shouted, "Gall!" By which I understood that human gall was being used as an ingredient for the special sauce.

That sounded terribly unappetizing to me. I may have been half awake at this point, wondering why people would volunteer to have their gall-bladders drained so that the gall could be used in Big Macs.

Dream #2

I was sitting with a woman at the back of a darkened conference room. The conference room was full of rows of long tables. At the front of the room was a large pull-down projector screen.

Projected on the screen was a view of a man and a woman. The woman in the room with me sat to my right. The way the woman and man on the screen were positioned, the woman on the screen was across from me and the man on the screen was across from the woman.

The woman on the screen was maybe 17 or 18 years old, black, very pretty, with short, black hair. The man, possibly a little older than the woman, looked Latino or possibly Filipino. He wore a frumpy dress shirt.

The woman and man were representing the appliance company Maytag. They were holding a video conference to discuss the company's financial results.

The woman and the man spoke for a little while and then came to something like a conclusion. I'm pretty sure the discussion didn't have anything to do with Maytag's operations.

The woman then began bowing repeatedly and saying something in Japanese, something incongruent, like "onegashimasu."

I suddenly noticed that the woman was wearing a costume like a mix between Uhuru from Star Trek's dress and a pink, silk cat-girl outfit, even with pink, silk cat-girl ears on her head.

The man and the woman then began joking, as if they were having banter on some kind of TV talk show. I wondered what the heck kind of financial reporting this was.

The man now said something about how the South African broadcasting company was experiencing technical difficulties broadcasting from the present building. So the man and woman had to switch buildings.

I don't know if I'd realized before this point that the conference call was taking place in South Africa. I figured it made sense that there were technical difficulties, given the current infrastructure situation in South Africa (???).

The man and the woman now began clowning around on the screen even more. The screen's view then switched to a view of either a huge office or a huge apartment in a tall building. A pretty, young, Asian woman with really sexy eyes and brown hair sat before the camera, with a huge window behind her.

The Asian woman was eating a huge, sloppy hamburger. She got all fussy and pouty, as if she were offended that anybody might expect her to act professional. She whined, "Well, everybody is still coming over here to get the conference call started. So I'm gonna eat some food."

I was wondering what the hell was going on with this conference call. It was the least professional conference call I'd ever seen in my life.

I wondered how long it was going to take to get the conference call started back up. I wondered if I needed to change buildings as well. I felt like that would cause a terrible delay. But I then realized that my screen was fine. I didn't need to change buildings. It was just the connection in South Africa that was having troubles.

Dream #3

I was in Chile with a somewhat wealthy Chilean family. The family was a father and three daughters.

We had been out doing something when something happened to me whereby I received a lot of money. At the same time, the father received a call from a company saying that he owed the company a lot of money. We had to head back to the family's home, which was a pretty big apartment in a tall building.

I had been flirting with the oldest daughter while we had been out. But, also, something I had done had upset the middle daughter. She was now in the kitchen, pouting.

I walked from the hallway into the kitchen by pushing open a set of swinging doors (like might be in the doorway of a saloon in a Western movie). The kitchen was narrow. The daughter sat in a window well at the end of the kitchen.

I pulled my wallet out of my pocket. I told the girl, "You know I said that once I had money I'd help you with -----." I began fingering through some American bills, trying to figure out how much money I needed to give the girl. The girl warmed up to me. She didn't seem so upset anymore.

I sat in the window-well with the girl. I put my right arm around her. I then began fondling her between her legs with my left hand. I wondered if what I was doing was right. After all, I had just been flirting with the oldest daughter. Should I really be flirting with the middle daughter, too?

Then I realized that, somehow, the "agreement" among the family was that I should act as a "husband" for all three daughters. So it was okay for me to be messing around with all three girls.

Someone called the girl and me out to the living room.

I was now lying on my stomach in the living room, looking into another room through a doorway. I saw a young man lying on his back on a mattress. The young man was sick. He was possibly about to die. One of the reasons, I realized, that we had come back home was because the young man had suddenly taken ill while we had all been out.

(I should also say that somehow the mother's death, "a few years back," played into this part of the dream. But I can't remember how.)

The father was sitting at the table in the adjacent dining room. His business partner sat to his left. The father was on the phone, possibly with the company that was claiming the father's supposed debt.

I figured that there was something I should be doing to take care of this situation. I felt I could be resourceful enough to take care of something. I knew people (???). I should be able to get in touch with someone in the US who knew an expert in Chilean financial legal matters.

The father addressed me. He told me how much he loved this place. He had a black-and-white satellite-photograph map of the neighborhood laid out on the table. He pointed out a specific park that he and his family loved going to. The park was next to a plaza and a museum. It was a very prestigious neighborhood.

My view zoomed "upward" away from the park as the father explained mournfully how it was likely that the family was going to be forced out of this neighborhood by its sudden financial troubles.

My brother, who, I now saw, had been sitting across from the father, pushed a piece of notebook paper across the table to the father. The paper had a transcription of the "contract" which was the main point of dispute between the father and the company.

My brother had made the transcription in green pen. The writing was all some kind of hieroglyphic or symbol language, full of radish-shaped, circular letters with circles inside of them. I might have told myself something silly, like this was the native Mayan (???) language of Chile.

The father began critiquing my brother's transcription. He used a pen to insert a crucial "keyhole" (as he called it) glyph into the transcription.

I sat down to the father's right as he tearfully began explaining everything the contract meant. The father was thin, but it seemed like he was just beginning to gain weight, as if he'd be overweight in a few years. He had coppery skin and a tight, curly hairstyle. He wore a brown, tweed suit, a white dress shirt, and a tie.

The man's business partner wore a very similar suit. But the partner was pale white, very thin, tall, and gangly. He wore square, silver-rimmed glasses. He had shaggy, red-brown hair and a half-stubbly beard.

The father translated the "Mayan" document for me. He was eventually able to explain to me that there was some kind of claim being made by the company for cash which should really have been considered a "non-cash" obligation (???).

It was becoming increasingly clear to me, as the father tearfully explained the text, that the terms of the contract actually didn't specify a monetary obligation at all, but a kind of conditional agreement that would only have a monetary value based on certain successes, which the father did not have.

Finally, when I saw the situation for what it was, I began talking, right over the father's weeping explanations. I kept asking the father who his legal counsel was. It took a while for the father to stop crying and just listen to me.

My plan was to see what kind of legal counsel the father had. But I already knew that if the father didn't have sufficient legal counsel, I would almost certainly be able to find some in the United States.