maboroshi

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

It was a bright, warm, sunny day. I was in some kind of suburban neighborhood with a group of people. We all stood out in the middle of the road, in a wide intersection, near the crest of a shallow hill. The other side of the hill felt very airy, possibly like the seashore was nearby.

Somehow I knew -- I may actually have been explaining it to a business woman -- that either a plague or a flood had hit this area. The place had been ravaged for a while: either overwhelmed by waters or distraught by disease.

The calamity had subsided. But things weren't back to normal. The town's population was now extremely low.

On top of that, there were certain streets that were now run by dogs. It was easy to tell the streets apart. The streets that had nice, new, black asphalt were streets where humans lived. But the streets with older, pale asphalt were run by dogs. The streets with old asphalt, I knew, had been so ravaged by the calamity that the new asphalt had been stripped off of them.

It was known that the dogs would guard their streets. If humans came down the streets, the dogs, which were like German Shepherds, would group together along the street and growl the human away, back out of the street.

But new asphalt was now also being laid through the dog streets as well. The group of people and I were following one new strip of asphalt that had been laid, coming out of a dog street and heading toward the front of this neighborhood (which now, apparently, was a gated community).

There were two or three mail delivery men up ahead of us, pushing their bag-carts full of mail. Walking near the men were two or three big, black dobermans. I feel like they were acting as an escort for the mailmen, who, now that the new asphalt was being laid, were again having to go into the dog streets to deliver mail to the houses.

I was now outside the community's gates and a few blocks down. I was talking with somebody, probably a black man in his mid twenties, maybe a little skinny, with reddish hair, wearing a red shirt.

The man and I were out here on a job. The man may have been gossipping to me or complaining about the work, trying to find a way for the two of us to get out of it, even though I wasn't interested in finding a way out of the work.

I was now walking back up toward the gated community. The gate, I could see, was a kind of cheap-looking, chain-link fence, with a tiny post-structure for a security guard to stand inside of. After the fence, the street went up a hill that was covered in the deep shade of heavy-canopied trees.

There were a couple of people behind me and beside me to my right, but just out of my view. A black woman said to her friend, "I don't wanna have to see them showing off their lust for each other again. It makes me sick."

I wondered who the woman could have been talking about. I now saw that the community's gate was open, and that two black, female security guards were walking back and forth in the open space.

The women were both overweight, and their security uniforms were really tight on them. One woman was darker. She had hair about to her shoulders, brown, with blonde streaks in it. The other woman was lighter and had blondish hair, long, in tight braids that pulled up in a fountain-shape and then flowed down.

The long-haired woman was following the short-haired woman around closely, almost flopping over her. I could see now that these two women were lesbian lovers. The woman who had been complaining a moment ago had been complaining about these two women.

Dream #2

I was in a really nice restaurant. I sat along the back wall, with my right side against the wall, at a table for two. The restaurant was one big room, full of tables for two or four people. The tables and chairs were all of heavy, dark wood. The walls may also have been of heavy, dark wood.

It must have been daytime. The restaurant's lighting was dim, and most of the light seemed to be coming from a window at the front of the restaurant.

The chairs at my table, and at all the tables along the back wall, had tall backs, maybe two meters tall, carved in a Gothic style. The chairs were so tall and solid, they made me feel like it was sitting in a booth rather than at a table.

A wealthy-looking white man, maybe in his forties, sat at the table directly in front of mine. I was probably waiting for my food. I was reading a book, scribbling some figures with a pencil onto a pad of pink paper, and listening to music with my headphones.

But I now noticed I'd been singing along to the music I'd been listening to. I didn't know if my singing had been any good. I hoped I hadn't been singing too loud.

I thought it would have been rude to be singing like that here, in such a nice restaurant, with such a serious guy sitting in front of me. But I may also have thought that the guy could possibly have been a talent scout. I may have thought that if he'd heard me singing, he'd want to sign a record contract with me.

But I was more embarrassed by my bad singing and my impertinence for singing in such a place. I took out my earphones and put them away.

Dream #3

I walked into a restaurant in the downtown area of some big city. The restaurant was part of some big building, possibly a big hotel. The restaurant was huge, with windows for all its walls, letting in streams of bright morning light.

The restaurant was like one big room, but divided into a number of areas, mainly by means of setting some parts of the room up on higher platforms, maybe 30cm to 60cm in height, and arranging these platforms at odd angles from the rest of the restaurant. Some areas may also have been divided off by glass walls or waist-high divider-walls.

There was one little alcove with a couple tables in it just off to the left of the entrance. I was thinking of sitting there. There were a few big, beautiful, white business men sitting at a table. One man had a tanned, but reddened face and wiry, brown-red hair. He was laughing with the other men.

I still wanted to sit in that room. I wanted to sit near those men. But I also wanted to avoid them. I didn't want them to think I was trying to intrude in their business.

I looked throughout the rest of the restaurant. It was all empty. There may have been a waitress walking through some of the seating areas, doing something. But that was it.

I was now (I don't know why) so embarrassed with having wanted to sit at a table near the business men that I left the restaurant. I walked around the corner, but then came back in through a different door. This way, I thought, the business men would think I'd left. That way they wouldn't think I was trying to intrude on their business.

I was back in the restaurant. I walked up onto one of the platform levels and took a seat just a couple tables away from the glass wall dividing this area from the room the business men sat in. Apparently I still wanted to be close to the business men. One of the business men did take notice of me. I felt kind of stupid.

Dream #4

It was night. I was sitting with my family at a McDonald's. The McDonald's was packed with people. The place felt hot and greasy and steamy.

My family and I sat at a very low, long table. My mom, my siblings, my nephews and niece, and I all sat packed together. But there was another whole group of people at the table, too. So we were all pretty crammed together.

We had all our belongings heaped up on the table as well. I had a backpack or a book bag in front of me, amid a heap of other stuff.

Someone brought out our food. I had fries, possibly something with chicken in it, and a soda. I had to reach around all the stuff on the tables to get to the drink-tray with the sodas in it. The sodas were all smalls, in white cups.

But when I looked at my drink in the drink tray, I realized that, while I'd ordered a Coke, I'd been given a Sprite. I was really mad. I'd been here a number of times, and every time I'd asked for a Coke, I'd gotten a Sprite.

I blurted out, "Christ, I hate these people. They did it to me again!"

But I noticed that there was an extra drink in the drink tray. It was a watery-looking orange drink in the drink tray. It looked like a mix of orange Hi-C and carbonated water. I like Hi-C, so I thought I would just be satisfied with that drink instead.

But my brother, who was sitting just to my right, said, "Did they give you the wrong thing? Don't take it. I'll complain to them."

I didn't want anybody to complain, as, in my experience, complaining just made things worse. But my brother had already complained and was now back in his seat.

Now one of the workers came up, a fat, white woman, dressed in blue slacks, a dark maroon polo shirt with blue sleeves and collar, and a visor-hat with a maroon visor. The woman asked, "Did someone here have a complaint about their drink?"

I stood up to face the woman. I didn't want to. But since she was here, I thought, I should just be honest with her. But I hid my face behind the top half of a big styrofome meal-container that was holding a bunch of ripple-cut french fries. I was even shoving french fries and catsup in my mouth as I stood there.

But the woman knew it was me. She either poked her head around the container or forced me to lower the container so she could see my face.

The woman said something like, "Oh, so it's you again!" as if she knew me for a constant trouble maker in the store.

It was obvious that the woman wasn't going to change my drink. She walked away, back behind the front counter. But she sent out another worker, either a black man or a black woman, to kind of pace back and forth around the table and make sure I wasn't trying to start any more trouble.

My family had all finished their meal and were ready to go. We were in a hurry to get somewhere -- maybe to the airport, so I could catch a flight back to New York.

Everybody else in the family was now outside, and I was sitting at the table by myself. It also felt like a large part of the people in the restaurant were gone, too. The place felt kind of empty.

I was trying to pick up all my stuff to get going. But for some reason I couldn't find my book bag.

A new family was coming into the store. There were a mom, a dad, a daughter, and some other people. The dad was tall, white, with a huge belly, barely held in by a thin t-shirt. He wore dark-tinted eyeglasses and had short, blonde-grey, curly hair.

The daughter was young, maybe twelve or thirteen years old. She wasn't very pretty. She had kind of frizzy hair and a nerdy look. But I was probably really attracted to her sexually.

The father obviously thought of me as "below" him, and he didn't even want me around his family while they ate. He was bustling around near me, huffing and puffing and trying to intimidate me. Finally he walked over to my table and stepped on my book bag (which was now on the floor?) a couple times.

I was really angry that the father stepped on my book bag. I had my computer in there. He could have broken it. I was probably going to stand up to him.

But suddenly I was outside, walking with my family to the car. We got in the car as I was telling my mom about the guy who had been bullying me inside. My mom may have asked if I wanted to take care of it in any way. But I didn't think it was any use.

I told my mom, though, that I probably should go back into the store. I'd been looking for my book bag in there, and I hadn't found it yet.

My mom said, "Oh, we just took your book bag with us when we headed out of the restaurant. It's in the back." (The back was like a hatchback, rather than a trunk.) "Did you want me to get it for you before we started driving?"

I kind of did. I wanted to make sure my computer was okay. I remembered the man stepping on my bag. But I didn't know if that was a real memory, now. If my mom had taken the bag out with her, it couldn't have been there for the man to step on.

I figured I'd just take a chance, then, and look at my computer once we got to wherever we were going. I told my mom, "No, that's fine. As long as my book bag's in the car with us, that's all I care about."

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dream #2

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

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

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

Dream #3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dream #4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I asked my mom about it. She said, "When he tried to escape from the police, he tried to be like that Norway guy." (She might actually have said "Sweden guy.") "So he used a pickup truck as a getaway vehicle."