maboroshi

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a museum with enormous rooms. The paintings were also enormous. The walls of the rooms may have been twenty or so meters tall. The paintings were just as tall.

I may have been with a group of people, possibly a school group. But I had broken off from them for some reason or another, and I was now walking around by myself.

But I was afraid to go into any of the rooms very far. The paintings on the walls were so gigantic. I was afraid they'd fall on me and smash me. So I could barely go beyond the threshold into rooms.

One room was kind of dimly lit, like from a dirty set of windows in the ceiling. I saw a pair of paintings in the room. The paintings were, I told myself, either by Goya or El Greco.

The paintings had the same subject: a young man in rich attire, something like pink, satin pants and a white shirt. The paintings stood opposite each other in a kind of side niche in the room. I wanted to examine the paintings closer, but I was too afraid of them falling on me.

I left this room -- I think -- and went into another room. The paintings were also huge in this room. But I may have been getting braver about being around the paintings, and I may have stepped quite a few meters into the room.

But now I looked up and saw that there were also paintings in the ceiling, the rest of the ceiling being made out of thick, ornate wood, like in the Rose Reading Room of the New York Public Library. I was now afraid of the ceiling paintings falling on me. They seemed like they'd be heavier than the wall paintings.

Dream #2

It was a greyish day. I was either treading water in a river, moving backwards slowly in a small boat, like a rowboat, in a river, or standing on a walkway through or at the edge of a river.

I may at first have been with a group of older, well-off people, like a tour group. But I'd broken away from the group a bit. The group were all walking along the walkway.

The river was wide, and at the other end of it was a big, kind of square, building. The building faced the river directly, starkly: it may even have been a bit cantilevered over the river.

The building was made of some kind of white stone, but the front of it, or the side facing the river, was of slightly tinted glass. This windowed section curved around the sides of the building as well, giving the white stone of the building a kind of backwards "C" shape.

I knew that the building was an art museum. It was the Art Museum of Mexico or the Mexico Museum of Art. It was a very good and nice museum. But it was also used -- especially the enormous room overlooking the river -- by drug cartels for arranging certain deals.

People liked to visit the museum. But people who went there were always afraid. You always had to be careful not to hear things, or at least not to act like you heard things. And you couldn't offend any person in any way. If you offended someone or acted like you'd overheard some drug deal being arranged, you could be killed.

But for some reason I was feeling defiant. I was going to go into the museum and I wasn't going to act afraid at all. Besides, it was the Mexico Museum of Art. It was full of great works of art. I'd be really disappointed in myself if I didn't see the art works there.

Dream #3

I was in some building. I was near a staircase. Apparently I'd always come here to this place to read. Other people did, too. But I'd come to have a favorite spot for reading on the staircase. And I'd read there all the time.

There were some guys who'd decided to follow me around. They thought I was really smart. They were jealous of me. They wanted to figure out everything I was doing and studying. They thought if they read everything I read, they could get smarter than they thought I was.

One of these guys was an old, kind of tall, white man with a big belly. He wore nice slacks and a nice button-up shirt. He saw I was heading toward the staircase to read. So he either took the place I always took or took a place a few steps higher than my place. Wherever he sat, his plan was to look down at what I was doing, so he could do it, too, and hopefully beat me at it.

I tried to figure out what to do. I didn't really care if people knew what I was doing. I tried to be open about that. But I felt annoyed. I may have thought I'd hide whatever I was doing, just to annoy the man back a little. Or I may have thought I'd just act unperturbed, like the man didn't bother me, or didn't exist at all.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was out walking along some damp, sandy shoreline with my sister and my oldest nephew. It was a nice, sunny day. The water was to our right. We were probably pretty close to the water, too. The shore itself was probably pretty narrow.

We passed some really beautiful scene on our left. There was a big, beautiful lawn (though the grass may have seemed to be a little dried and yellowy). At the end of the lawn was some kind of beautiful, classical mansion or palace or plaza.

I can't really remember it that well at all. It was gleaming white, and it had a lot of columns. There were people in some non-modern dress walking around on the grounds and in or near the structure. Parts of the grounds may have been open from the shore. Other parts may have been separated from the shore by a fence.

My sister pointed to the beautiful scene and said, "This reminds me a lot of my trip to Italy."

For some odd reason I took a really sarcastic tone with my sister. I said, "Pfft! There's nothing like that in real life!" (??? ) I then either said, "That's only a painting," or, "That should really remind you of a painting."

My sister and nephew and I were now walking in the downtown area of some smaller town. We three seemed to be among the few people out on the street.

It was still a nice, sunny day. We walked down a street with dark tan or brownish buildings that were probably around eight to twelve stories tall.

Suddenly I saw, across the street from us, a huge helicopter descending from above the building tops. The helicopter had a dull, blue underside. It was shaped a bit awkwardly, like if you were to put an old, corded phone's receiver into a blanket and then try to make a rectangle out of that mass.

The helicopter was moving pretty slowly. It was still descending, and it looked like it was directed toward us. I'm -- pretty sure -- that at this time I recalled a time IWL in 2002 when I was in downtown Santa Fe, New Mexico, and a huge, black, military copter floated down toward me and seemed to follow and watch me for half a block or so.

I'm pretty sure that I was really worried that this helicopter was going to do the same thing to me. I had been really afraid in Santa Fe -- so afraid, I'd had to hold onto a wall near me to stay standing.

But I didn't want my sister and nephew to see me that way. So I tried to show that I was actually interested in this aircraft, rather than that I was afraid of it.

But as the helicopter descended, it turned out that I really was more interested in it than afraid of it. The helicopter actually looked like some form of public transportation -- like a bus, but with propellers instead of wheels!

I could see now that the helicopter-bus was going to land and unload passengers at a building on the corner of a block just up ahead and across the street from us. I ran toward that building, leaving my sister and nephew behind.

I got into the building. It was like a hollowed-out lobby of an office building, but with something to its atmosphere that made it seem like a bus station. There were concrete pillars through the room. The window-walls of the lobby must have been tinted, because the light coming in was kid of smoky-amber colored. The floors may have been covered in a short, tight, brown carpet.

I'd come in through some doors to the left of the corner of the building. But the helicopter, I saw, had landed at the corner of the building. There were some hospital-like, sliding-glass doors that opened along with the opening of the helicopter's doors. A little wheelchair-ramp-type structure went down from the doors to the floor.

I ran up to the sliding glass doors as they opened. There were no passengers in the helicopter-bus, even though the helicopter-bus had apparently landed to let passengers off.

The pilot stood just outside of the bus for a moment or two. He was tall, white, with a kind of big belly. He had short, shaggy, red hair and a short, shaggy beard. He wore squarish eyeglasses.

I didn't say anything to the man. I just stood there, kind of awed that I was seeing such a new, incredible element of public transportation.

The man understood my feelings, though. He said, "Well, it's fun for now. But the city'll get rid of it soon. This is the new thing. And when the next new thing comes around, they'll forget all about this thing."

I now spoke to the man, but it was like I was speaking to him in my head, or through narration, as I was heading back out onto the street, out to my sister and nephew.

I told the man, "Oh, no -- they'll never get rid of this. It's too great! And it makes so much sense. It's so efficient!"

I may now have been telling my sister and nephew something as we watched the helicopter lift up and away. The helicopter seemed to be going right back in the direction it had come from. So did we. We seemed to be walking right back down the block we'd walked up.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I sat in some huge room. I sat in a school desk, which was part of some U-shaped area of either desks or tables, maybe made out of wood. Other than this structure, the room was empty.

The room had orange-tan colored walls, which were as tall as the walls of a cathedral. Along the top of the wall ran some kind of LED display, like an electronic ticker tape display that scrolls out news.

The sign was saying that somebody, possibly Sir Isaac Newton, had confessed his guilt regarding something. This was something like a murder, or a rather contemporary, scandalous-sounding crime.

Previously I'd been accused of this crime. Now that Sir Isaac Newton had confessed, I would no longer be considered guilty.

A woman came up to the desk where I was sitting. She may have stood me up to lead me away. I may have been working at something on a computer. I may have been a little reluctant to leave the work.

Dream #2

In an almost completely dark room, there was a girl, maybe eleven or twelve years old, standing in an orange-peach colored dress. The dress was in the eighteenth century style, with the outer layer in a sheer kind of material. The girl may have had her back left leg lifted behind her, as if she were performing a ballet step.

Dream #3

I was in a dark space, almost like a small corridor on a large airplane or in a space station. I walked toward a dimly lit area near the "front" of this corridor.

The astronaut Michael Collins was in the lit space, working at a small box of machinery. Collins looked young, and he may have been wearing a NASA jumpsuit.

I may have worked with Collins. I figured I was going to help him with whatever he was doing right now.

Dream #4

I was alone in a bedroom. The room was kind of big and it had high walls. But it felt like a college dorm room, not a bedroom. There may have been a regular bed and at least one bunk bed.

Suddenly the lights went out in the room. There was a tiny bit of light in the room, giving everything a very faint, very dim blue tint.

I felt my way around in the room, waving my arms in front of me -- although I may actually have been doing this before the lights went out. I was frantically trying to turn the lights back on, either with the power of my own mind or by finding the light switch. But I couldn't do it.

I told myself not to panic. I went to the door. Even though I was kind of disappointed with myself for being so afraid that I wanted to leave the room, I was going to leave. I couldn't think of how to get the light on, and I couldn't stand being in darkness.

But when I got to the front door, I was also afraid. I felt like there were people out in the hallway (like the hallway of a college dorm hall) waiting to attack me.

I looked through the peephole on my door. Outside I saw, leaning against the wall opposite the hall from my door, a young, blonde woman, pale skinned, very pretty, dressed in blue jeans and a black, turtleneck sweater. She leaned against the wall with her hands joined and placed behind her.

(Note: I've been using being alone in an empty room as a dream-sign, hopefully to induce lucids. I noticed that many of my lucids have occurred when I was alone in a room. So I've had quite a few "alone in a room" dreams -- and I've still failed. Ugh.)

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was out on some road that appeared to be on a building top. I may have been standing outside at first. But, at least eventually, I was inside a vehicle, possibly a van. I was with some man and someone like my mom. The day was really sunny, maybe hot.

I saw an airplane flying up through the air, just after it had lifted off. But the back end of the airplane was shaped just like the back end of a space shuttle. The whole airplane may have been white and red, with a shiny, plasticky look.

I got kind of freaked out because the airplane had had the back end of a space shuttle. I thought the craft should be lifting up into the air much faster if it were a shuttle. I got the eerie feeling that it would start lifting quickly up into the air very soon. But something about the fact that it kept not lifting up into the air had me really panicked.

One of the people with me, probably the man, may have tried to convince me that the craft weren't actually a shuttle, and that its back end didn't actually look like that of a shuttle.

I looked over the building we were on. There was a space shuttle posed in front of the building, on some kind of metal-frame, like a statue. I tried to compare the craft in the air and the shuttle on the ground.

I must have been satisfied. We started driving away from the scene. I felt afraid to look back at the craft in the air. We passed some large passenger plane that looked normal. It gave me a huge sense of the relief, as if the craft in the air were normal.

We were now driving around on some tarmac, possibly at the foot of the building we had been on. We drove past one experimental plane. I knew about this whole place, and I knew about these experimental planes. I told the man about this plane. The man may now have been someone like my mom's old boyfriend.

We drove past another experimental plane. This one was all clear, like it was just a thin, metal skeleton covered over with the clear material that makes the walls of a greenhouse.

The plane was kind of needle-shaped, with something about it reminiscent of the Blackbird. It also had something to its design very much like the grid pattern underlying some computer animations. The plane also had a logo on its side saying "Scoop Technologies."

I told the man something about this plane as well, like I was a little kid showing off how smart I was to an adult man. We then passed another plane which may have been much, much larger than the clear craft. We then passed another experimental craft, which I may also have explained to the man.

Dream #2

I was in some building, on the second floor, laying on my stomach on the floor, staring out a window-wall. Below was some kind of small courtyard, floored with stone tiles, edged around with little gardens and trees, with some leafs blowing across the tiles.

Two girls were down in the courtyard area. They may have been in their early teens. They were both dressed in costumes. The costumes were like older European dresses, like from the Elizabethan era or a bit later than that. But the colors of the costumes were very bright, like Sailor Moon uniforms.

One of the girls saw me looking down at them. She ran up to the building, jumped all the way up to the window, and tapped her hand against the glass. The girl apparently liked me, and she was trying to let me know.

The girl was now back on the ground with her friend. The two girls spoke with each other for a moment. I couldn't believe the girl had managed to jump high enough to tap the window. I wanted her to do it again. But I also wanted her to do it again so I could make sure she liked me.

I tapped on the glass and waved the girl back to me. The girl came wandering back up to the building. The other girl warned the girl not to jump up to the window, since she'd get hurt really bad if she slipped and fell.

This time she didn't jump up to the window. She climbed up something like a thin, metal drain-pipe that had little pieces of metal like ladder-rungs running up it. The wall was red stone (so red it almost looked painted), and the drain-pipe and "ladder-rungs" were the same color.

The girl got up to the window and touched my hand.

Now the girl was down on the ground with her friend, a ways away from the building. The girl stood near a waist-high, silvery metal column. The girl lifted up her skirt and draped it over this column. She then kind of leaned over the column, so her torso was parallel with the ground.

I was now sitting somewhere, possibly on the roof of a building, with two women. We had a bunch of stuff with us like we were taking a trip to the beach. I sat on the floor, on a towel. There were a few other big beach towels all around me. On either side of me there were long beach chairs and tall parasols.

One of the women was my friend H's friend Y. Y sat on the edge of one of the beach chairs. Y was telling the other woman, in a different language, how she liked me, but how it seemed like all I ever did was study and think about intellectual things. Y wondered if I could possibly like her at all.

I spoke to Y in English, not letting on that I'd understood everything she'd just said in the foreign language, but letting her know that I was interested in her. But I then got worried about showing her any more of my feelings. H was coming back soon. And H liked me. She couldn't think I liked Y.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in "my apartment," in my bathroom, looking at my face in the mirror. The bathroom was dark, with light coming in only from another room. I was disappointed with my appearance. I felt like I looked really ugly.

There was suddenly a knock on my front door. I didn't know anybody who'd be knocking on my door at this time, so I was afraid to open the door. I went to look through the peephole to see who was there -- I was even afraid to do that.

The person at the door was a tall, muscular black man wearing a black tank top, khaki shorts, and a baseball cap tilted off to the side of his head. He was bouncing around a lot. He looked annoyed or angry. I didn't open the door or acknowledge the man. I just walked away from the door and back to the bathroom.

There was another knock at the door. This time I stood frozen in the doorway of my bathroom, afraid to even go to the door. I looked from the bathroom to the door.

My apartment was really big. It was like the bathroom was at the front of a short hallway. Between the hallway and the front door was a living room. But the living room was more like two huge rooms. Both the rooms were plainly visible, but dark. In the center was a kind of columned space that was lit with incandescent light. There was nice, kind of old-style furniture everywhere.

I somehow saw through the door, which now had a window of greenish and pinkish stained glass in a diamond-grid pattern on it. At the door were two old, white men, kind of overweight, with white hair. It was now like part of the stained glass on my door had been broken. The men could see into my house. But I didn't know if they could see me.

There was a really nice, big, comfortable armchair near the hallway. A very pretty, blonde, little girl in a really nice, fancy dress, sat in the chair. She made some kind of remark about the people at the door. The remark was made with a cheerful tone, but it was kind of dark. It made me feel like the two white men at my door were probably here only to cause trouble for me, but that I should probably open the door to them anyway.

I was about to go open the door for the men. But they now saw me through the smashed-out pieces in the stained glass on my door. The men said something about how they had only been here to help me. They were probably going to install some kind of device in my house. But if I didn't want to open the door for them, they weren't going to waste their time.

The two men left my door. I ran after them, hoping to get them so they could do whatever good thing they were going to do for me. I must have gotten down to the ground floor of my apartment building. In an area that may have been a little small and cramped, possibly busy with some kind of housework, I met a woman, another resident.

The woman said, "Oh, those guys are all holding a big meeting for all of us downstairs later on. They gave everybody that speech. They figured it was a good way to make everybody feel guilty. So that way everybody would want the thing the men want to put in the house. So now, to find out what it is, we all have to go to this meeting."

I was now outside, in a neighborhood that looked a lot like my neighborhood in waking life. It was late afternoon or early morning. The sky was deep, vivid blue, but there were also bright, red-pink clouds in the sky. I remarked to myself that I'd never seen clouds with such a strong, red tint.

Somehow my psychiatrist met me a couple of blocks down from my apartment. I was walking back to my apartment. So my psychiatrist walked with me. We passed a small family that was taking up the entire sidewalk. We had to maneuver past them. I squeezed along a chain-link fence along the sidewalk.

One of the kids of the family may have been on a tricycle. Another of the kids was a little, Latina girl with dark skin and long, black hair. She was maybe ten or eleven years old. She wore a bikini with a black and white design of tighly interlocking patterns, like Native American pottery paintings. She also may have had red scrunchees holding her hair back in either a ponytail or two pigtails.

I had been very interested in the Native American design on the girl's bikini. I had never seen that before. But the girl had been kind of crouched down near the bicycle. And when she stood up, something about the sight of her rear end as it went from a crouching to a standing position really turned me on. So I looked away, ashamed of being turned on by a little girl, especially in front of my psychiatrist.

We crossed the street. I was looking down to the sidewalk and up to the strikingly red-pink clouds as my psychiatrist spoke with me. My psychiatrist told me that she had some meeting set up with me and another psychiatrist, possibly a man. She told me that soon I'd be able to go to "special sessions" with this second psychiatrist.

My psychiatrist told me that she'd tell me more once we got inside. Apparently my apartment complex actually held her counseling office instead of my apartment.

I asked my psychiatrist if I would still be doing regular sessions with her, since the sessions with the guy would only be "special sessions." I mentioned some previous psychiatrist I'd had before, without being able to remember her name, as if I had seen her for "special sessions" while still seeing my psychiatrist for "regular sessions." But my psychiatrist didn't answer me.

My dream now took on a very scratchy, rushing feeling, like I'd usually have when I was going into or coming out of a lucid dream. I think this may have been partly because I had gotten really frustrated trying to remember the name of my previous psychiatrist.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a hospital room with a young man and woman who appeared to be doctors. The woman was blonde and slightly tanned. The man's appearance may have changed, but at least for some time he had long, frizzy-curly hair and a short beard. Both doctors wore long, white lab coats. The woman sat at a desk with a computer. At first I lay on the bed. The whole place felt really cluttered somehow.

I was going to have a blood test and a skin test. I was familiar enough with how people took blood, but I was kind of worried about the skin test. I didn't know how people took skin samples.

The man told me, "It really hurts. And the pain stays with you. Because you have to keep the skin sampler on you for half an hour. And the whole time you have it on, it's just like, 'Aagh! Aagh!'" I thought that if what the man was saying was true, this would really suck. But I wasn't going to be afraid.

The man took my right (?) hand. He took a lime-green, plastic device that looked like a thimble as long as an index finger. He put the base, the open end, against the back of my hand, right where the thumb joint comes into the base of the hand. I knew there was a little, guillotine-blade-shaped metal device inside the thimble.

The man clicked something on the thimble. The blade snapped down and dug into my skin. It hurt a little, but not as much as I'd thought it would. I kept waiting for some kind of delayed effect, like a pain that would get worse and worse. But I just kept having the same kind of dull pain.

Eventually I walked over to the woman, who still sat at the computer. She was going to take my blood. I figured I might as well hang out near her while I waited for her to draw my blood. For some reason, for this entire time, I kept my hand elevated right in front of my face.