maboroshi

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

Two female movie stars were getting married to each other. They were walking down some kind of red carpet, like they were going to or coming from an awards ceremony. The carpet ran down some kind of narrow hallway the right side of which had no wall, but was open to the golden sunlight of late afternoon.

The two stars were both known for being gorgeous. One of them was a beautiful blonde with her hair up in a narrow wave. She wore a tiny, white dress with something shimmery on it, like sequins or mother of pearl. She smiled and giggled kind of like Scarlet Johanssen.

But the other star was completely wrapped in a black cloth. The cloth was then bound with something like ropes or bungee cords, so that it was tight on the woman. The cloth looked like felt, and in a lot of places it was cut into wide fringes.

The cords were all neon colors -- like neon orange, blue, and pink. In addition, the woman wore canvas-topped shoes of different neon colors: mostly neon blue, with bits of neon orange and neon pink.

I wondered whether the woman's outfit had something to do with her religion. Maybe she was required, as a woman, to cover her whole body once she was married. I may have questioned this, since I figured any religion that had such a policy would probably not be okay with lesbian marriage.

Dream #2

I was outside in some city area, on cobbled streets and near a fountain. It was daytime. I was before some yellow-walled apartment building.

I saw my old friend R. I may have been surprised to see him. But I may somehow have gotten the idea that he'd planned to meet up with me in this place. He knew I didn't want to see him anymore. And he'd somehow manipulated this situation, I felt, so that I'd have to see him.

It turned out -- maybe I'd known this in advance -- that R lived in the apartment I'd stood in front of. R had me go upstairs with him. It was somehow like I was going to live with R for a little while, like I was trying to get back on my feet and he was letting me stay with him.

We were now upstairs and in R's bedroom. R had pulled out a stack of pornographic magazines. I had the feeling that they were mine, as if I had lived here before, or as if I had lived here for a while now and had hidden these magazines somewhere here, like under the mattresses.

R was starting to make me feel bad about having magazines like this in his house. I was feeling embarrassed and ashamed. But then R actually had me start looking at the magazines with him, as if he were already interested in them and was now trying to get me interested in them, too.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dream #2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was watching TV. The Jacksons had all gotten together for a concert. Michael Jackson was being driven across the stage with one of his brothers, I think, in something like a parade float that had the shape of a high-heel shoe. The stage was empty otherwise. The shoe and the background of the stage were empty.

It took me a moment to realize that Michael actually looked a little strange. He was wearing a suit, like in Moonwalker, except that he wasn't wearing a jacket or hat. The slacks were khaki, and the shirt was white with red pinstripes. Michael also looked like an old man -- with kind of sunken, worn-out flesh.



Then I finally noticed that Michael was bald, except for on the sides and the back of his head. But the hair he had was dyed blonde and done in a ragged, almost standing-up kind of style.

I knew that rumors had been going around about Michael Jackson being bald. But he'd always denied the rumors. Now in this show he was coming out as being bald.

I was apparently in some basement watching the TV. I ran up the stairs. My friend H was upstairs, possibly watching TV in the ground-floor living room. I told H that Michael Jackson had finally come out as being bald. But H wasn't surprised at all. I went back downstairs, somewhat disappointed. I thought I was going to give H some new information. But I didn't.

I may have been watching the TV again. I could see old pictures of Michael with long hair. The top views of his head showed obviously thinning hair. Eventually, I knew, these images had become too obvious, and Michael just had to admit he was going bald.

But, I thought, this whole thing could be just another one of Michael's characteristic, weird disguises. He could just have done himself up as an aging, balding man for this show. I knew that Michael had disguised himself in weirder ways in the past. So I wouldn't put it past him to disguise himself in this way.

I now got the feeling that I'd actually met Michael Jackson. I thought that this was possible. When he was disguised, Michael Jackson could walk around anywhere and introduce himself to anyone without them knowing who he was.

I got the feeling that when I'd met him, he'd been disguise as a really old person or a person in really bad shape. He'd looked frightening and gross. But you could see that his eyes were really his eyes, and something about that had made things even worse.

But I may then have thought that I actually hadn't ever met him. I thought that if had really met someone like that I would have been so frightened that I wouldn't even have been able to control myself. I even hoped that I would never have to meet someone like that in my life.

Dream #2

I was in a bedroom with my second oldest nephew. There were two women in the room with us. Both women were really attractive brunettes.

The room was dim, with walls, or at least the edges of the walls, in heavy, dark wood. The walls themselves may actually have been Asian-style, paper-thin. I could feel a narrow, dim hallway outside.

The two women were apparently our teachers. One teacher was going to take me to do some task. The other was going to take my nephew.

But for some reason, when my teacher walked out of the room, I didn't follow her. My nephew's teacher was talking to my nephew. She may then have said something to me, like she was here to teach my nephew, not me.

I may have said something like, "Oh, yeah, I see." I may then have decided I needed to find my own teacher.

I think my nephew's teacher then walked out of the room. My nephew and I were standing in the room, talking with each other for a bit. My nephew must have been telling me a joke. I remember him laughing as he spoke.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was out on a beach that was packed with people. A lot of people seemed to be out with small contraptions, almost like the rods that would hold up huge umbrellas, but with no umbrellas, and with bases that lay in the sand.

I stood by a little, blonde girl. She was really tiny, but she spoke really well. She wore a leopard print bathing suit and sunglasses. I had asked her her name -- or maybe I'd asked her my name. She responded by telling me I was silly or stupid.

The girl then told me that I'd spoken so much about going into the water. So why was I now just staying out on the beach. I figured the little girl was right. I should go into the water, at least to impress the girl.

But I looked at the water. It was just as packed as the beach was. And it was dirty as hell. It looked like old, used washing machine water. And posts seemed to be sticking up out of it, too.

Dream #2

I was laying on a bed, probably in the living room of a nice apartment or condo in a tall, new building. My mom sat either on the edge of my bed or on a bed that was adjacent to my bed. We were watching some movie. The movie struck me as being a little brutal or gross.

I was either making two sandwiches, or else I had two sandwiches lying before me as I lay on the bed. Each sandwich had its own plate. Both sandwiches were on heroes.

The sandwich nearest me had ham and cheddar cheese. I remembered that I liked the taste of ham with some other meat. So I told my mom I could make our sandwiches with that other meat as well.

But my mom said no, that didn't matter. She seemed to be hungry and annoyed, and she didn't want to worry about complicating things. I felt bad for complicating things. So I decided to leave the sandwich alone.

But I personally wanted the taste of both meats on my sandwich. Then I remembered that the second sandwich had both meats on it. So even if my mom was annoyed by my two-meat idea, I could secretly eat and enjoy a two-meat sandwich.

Dream #3

I was at a dinner table with an older woman, probably my mom. We were in a really nice restaurant that was mostly empty. The table was round, a meter in diameter, with a white tablecloth.

Three older women sat down at a table that was right next to ours, even touching ours. The three women all looked rich. They were all dressed in black.

My mom had a conversation with the women. It sounded pretty intelligent. But I can't remember what it was about. One woman, the one closest to me, was staying rather quiet. I looked at her. She looked really distressed.

I recognized her as Dianne Wiest. But she looked a bit skinnier and older. I wanted to tell her how much I enjoyed her performances in her movies. But I didn't say anything.

Later I was riding in the backseat of a car. My mom was driving, and another woman was up in the front seat with her. My mom said, "Rachel ----- wasn't as talkative as she usually is."

I thought, Rachel -----? I knew my mom was talking about the woman I'd looked at. But I guess I'd gotten the name of the woman wrong.

My mom continued. "Oh, well. Usually she's more open when she's around kids. It brings out more of a feeling of hope in her."

I thought to myself, Well, I'm pretty youthful and exuberant. I can bring out hope in people, too. I should have been a little more outgoing with Rachel.

Dream #4

I walked into a restaurant. It was as enormous as the main area of Grand Central station in NYC. Toward the back, the seating area tiered up. The carpet, and maybe the walls, were green. The tables all had white tablecloths on them. The place was empty.

I walked back to the back tier. I sat down and was now seated with a rich-looking, older-looking man and woman. We ate and spoke cheerfully about something. I was having a good time. But I was trying to play down the fact that I wasn't rich, so that my financial condition wouldn't make the couple dislike me.

I then realized that this was a brand new restaurant that had opened up in a big, abandoned building. I thought of some friends who I always go out to dinner with. I thought they'd be really impressed when I told them I'd come to a restaurant that had just opened.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

Three people were sitting on a couch. The one in the center was an adult, probably a man. The other two were either children or young adults who acted like children. The two were half-laying on the couch, leaning their heads and shoulders against the central man.

The two may have been one boy and one girl or two girls. The boy (?) may have been in love with the girl. He may have told the girl he was in love with her.

The girl may have responded by acting like she would go out with the boy. But she really didn't love him. She loved some other female, either a girl around her age or a woman around the age of the man, who may have been her teacher.

The man in the center may have had some suspicion that the girl was in love with another female. But the way the girl seemed to act in love with the boy kept the man from being suspicious. If the man knew for sure the girl was a lesbian, he would have stopped her. He was very protective of her, and he thought lesbianism was wrong.

I was now watching this scene in a movie theater. I sat in the theatre with my two old friends, R and Y. The theater was mostly empty, with only a few people in each row.

My friends and I heard a voice coming from one of the back rows. It sounded like the voice of our old friend, ER. We thought it must have been ER. But then it was quiet. So we didn't think about it anymore. But then we heard ER's voice again. I knew it must be him.

I turned around in my seat and called out, "ER! ER!" in a half-whisper. My friends giggled a bit and told me to stop talking in the theater and annoying everybody. I was about to defy them by calling out to ER again. But he waved at us, stood up, and began walking toward us.

But I didn't want to be quiet after being told to be quiet. So I called out, "We're actually looking for a second ER, too! ER!"

We were all facing forward. My friends were laughing at me. Then ER and Y began catching up with each other. They'd both led some pretty interesting lives in the years since they'd spoken.

ER began asking Y about a couple questions about some of the things she'd done. Y responded. She'd apparently had one project where she'd kept some kind of material sealed up in a big trash can.

At first I thought the project was sinister, like she was keeping a dead body or body parts in liquid in the can. But then it just sounded gross, like she was keeping liquid and old junk in the can.

Y had another project where she had to vacuum up some kind of dust. This project also seemed really gross.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a classroom. I sat in a desk one or two rows back from the front and a little toward the left of the classroom. The classroom door was on the left side of the wall that the desks faced. The light of the classroom was a greenish fluorescent.

The classroom was probably full of people. Everybody may have seemed about my age. But the class felt almost like a high school class.

I sat twisted in my desk, the left side of my head propped up by my left hand. I was watching a woman or girl give a speech about something. The woman was giving the speech while seated at her desk.

I knew that the woman's speech wasn't popular. She had expressly decided to say something she knew other people wouldn't like. Plus, her speech may have been boring.

I was taking a little bit of a secret pleasure in knowing that the woman's speech was not well-received. She may have acted arrogant toward me in the past. So now I was happy to see people treating her indifferently.

Somehow (maybe because of a bell?) the people all knew that the class period was over. They all got up and left the class, even though the woman was still giving her speech. The woman continued, seeming only a little put-off by being ignored by everybody.

I now felt bad for the woman. I didn't think everybody would be so indifferent toward her. I thought she must feel horrible. So I listened harder to what she was saying, as if I were really interested in it.

At some point, the speech was done. The woman was still seated in her desk. There were a couple other people in the room. One of them was some male friend of mine. He seemed a little bit older and classier than I.

My friend made some criticism of the woman's speech while walking about on the left side of the classroom. He then addressed me as he walked out of the classroom.

I understood the criticism the man had given the woman, though he'd addressed it to me. I tried to respond by adding onto the criticism in some witty way, and by using an accent. I may have been trying to sound French. But my attempt was horrible.

My friend, standing just outside the classroom, told me, in a half-distracted way, that my accent was horrible. I stood up and walked out of the classroom. I told the man that I agreed with him. I told him I thought I sounded like --.

But I couldn't remember the name of the person I was thinking about. She was a cartoon character, from the Bullwinkle show. I might have kept saying "Badenov, Badenov," because I remembered she was Boris Badenov's partner in crime. But I couldn't remember the character's first name.

(Of course, it's Natasha.)

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A tall, white man, bald on top, with white hair around the sides of his head, and wearing a grey suit with a white shirt and, probably, a maroon tie, was sitting at a table with me in a drably fluorescent-lit room, talking about lucid dreaming.

I don't remember what the man said now, although I could hear it pretty well. One word in particular really struck me, although when I woke up I seemed to think that that word could have applied to any subject.

Dream #2

I was standing at the edge of a city park. The park felt small near me, though I had the idea that it was actually a rather large park. I stood on the inside of a black-painted iron fence. A sidewalk ran just outside the park. It was a nice, sunny day. There were a lot of people on the sidewalk.

Somehow I saw, off to my left, my old friend R walking around the corner. He was walking under the shade of some trees. I didn't really want to see him again. But if he was here, and if he saw me, I supposed I should be happy to talk to him.

The entrance to the park was on my side. And R was rounding the corner to reach my side. But for some reason, I started walking over to the side of the park where R was. It was like I wanted to meet him before he got to my side.

But, only a few steps away from where I'd been, I realized that I'd just left my backpack (??? -- don't wear one IWL) behind. I turned around to grab it. It might have been leaning against a tall headstone, like for a grave.

I grabbed my backpack. But by this time, R had already rounded the corner. He was now walking past where I stood. He may have said something to me. We may even have been talking to each other -- in my head. R was already about to reach the next corner.

Somehow I came to understand that I would be meeting R at some other place, like we'd arranged to meet each other for dinner or at R's house or something. I now walked away from the park gates and down toward the opposite end of the park.

The park, I'm pretty sure, had a lot of gravestones in it. It might actually have been a cemetery. I walked across a lawn full of gravestones, under the thick shade of trees.

At some point I saw -- as if I were walking there, but not quite -- the street on the other side of the park. It was an empty street, with a big, residential apartment building. The building was kind of old and run down. It was made of stone or concrete, and it was painted white. It glared in the sunlight.

I was thinking something to myself. But I can't remember what. I was probably still continuing my in-head conversation with R.

Dream #3

I was sitting on a couch with my brother. My brother sat to my right. To my left was another couch, on which sat two or three women. The women weren't my family members, though maybe they were supposed to have been.

I was either drawing or looking at drawings and humming or singing a tune to myself. I remember sensing the tune -- hearing it and feeling it in my throat. But I don't remember the tune at all.

The first drawing I was looking at was kind of tall and narrow. It was of some human-like figure. The figure was all green, with a masculine, slender, but muscular body, and a featureless face. The figure had smallish wings, kind of butterfly-shaped, but clear, like fly-wings.

The figure stood before a background, like a sky fading upward, from the horizon, from yellowish to greenish-yellow, to olive-green.

The second drawing was of a sky and a landscape below. The landscape was very small as I remember, and the sky was very vast. A whole lot of demon-like entities were being released from the sky. They may have come from some ship, but I can't remember.

The demons were little, black, scraggly shadows. In the center of these scraggly shadows there were single, pink orbs, almost like eyes.

The sky faded very quickly from a dark band of blue at the top, to a paler blue, and finally to a white, which took up most of the vast sky. For some reason, the whole thing reminded me of something out of Neon Genesis Evangelion, and I might even have started making up a story about Shinji Ikari attacking these demons.

I was still humming or singing. At some point the women started singing or humming along with my tune. Finally my brother made some smart-ass comment to me about how stupid my song was. He also asked me something like, couldn't I quit making so much noise while he was around?

I stopped. I was really offended and angry. The women stopped as well. But they took more of an attitude of being scared by the sudden change in tone in the environment.

I turned to my brother and said a lot of really bad stuff to him. I remember sensing each thing I said to him -- but I can't remember what I said. All I know is that I was calculating everything I said to hurt him and make him feel as terrible and worthless as possible.

Finally I said that I only tolerated being around him, and nothing more -- that I didn't like being around him.

I then did some strange move where I lifted my hands, bent my arms, grabbed onto the back of the couch, and flipped myself over to the backside of the couch. When I did this, I was in another room.

As soon as I had said everything I felt really terrible. I could tell that my brother had taken everything I'd said to heart. I knew that he'd probably lose faith in himself and go off and get into some kind of trouble. It really upset me that I'd started off that whole chain of events -- even though, while I'd said everything, it was exactly what I'd meant to do.

I didn't seriously mean anything I'd said, though, and now I wanted to apologize to my brother for everything.

My brother was standing right next to me. I figured this would be the best time for me to apologize to him and get things back in order between us.

We were staring at a table full of arts and crafts supplies. The main thing I remember is yellow, plastic canisters of powdered paint. The canisters looked like label-less Crayola products. We had to pour the powdered paint into white, styrofome bowls and add water. I may have called this paint "tempera."

I was looking at the table and apologizing to my brother. My brother was telling me something like, It's okay, it's okay, I'm okay, don't worry about it. But I still felt awful, and I wanted my brother to know I was sorry.

Dream #4

A girl, probably an Asian girl, maybe in her early or mid teens, was wearing a strange helmet. The helmet was made out of brightly polished chrome.

The skull of the helmet held pretty close to the woman's head. But the jaw of the helmet extended straight forward, on both sides, forming something like two stylized, trapezoidal tusks. There may -- possibly, I'm not sure -- also have been ear-like or wing-like shapes coming off the top of the head.

I wondered why the woman would need to wear something like this. It didn't make sense, for daily life.

But somehow I got the understanding that the woman had been attacked, either physically or spiritually, in her life. She was still healing from the attack. And she was still vulnerable to future attacks. So, to protect the healing areas, the woman had to wear this helmet. The helmet may also have helped her fight, in the case of any future attacks.

Dream #5

I was at my old friend R's apartment. But, for some reason, it was now my family's house. My mom and my mom's best friend were at the house. My sister was also there. Other people may also have been there. But I'm not sure who they were.

We were in somebody's bedroom, which was at one end of the apartment. I was sitting on the edge of a big, fluffy bed.

My mom and my mom's friend were secretly worrying over me. They didn't say anything to me. But they were discussing the fact that I was seeing demons, and that I might, therefore, be suffering from schizophrenia. My sister may also have been involved in the conversation.

I got up, not quite feeling like myself, but still trying to prove that I was sane. I'm pretty sure the fact was that I was seeing demons. But I think I was trying to prove to somebody that they were real. But if I couldn't prove they were real, I could, at least, in the meantime, prove that I had a decent grip on the rest of reality.

I walked into the next room, adjacent to the bedroom. I'm not sure what it was. For some reason, I saw the door on the left wall of the room. I wanted to jump from where I was, through the doorway, into the hallway.

I jumped, and I made it. But instead of landing, I decided I just wanted to keep flying. I knew that one could hover 12cm or so above the ground if one had jumped, and that one could move about a bit more quickly than walking by floating around at this height.

I floated off to my left, up the hallway, into the kitchen, where my mom and her friend were. They may still have been talking about how crazy I was. I thought they'd especially think I was crazy, now that I was flying around. I think they'd even think I was crazy for thinking I could fly.

But I wanted to keep flying, and I wanted to prove to somebody that I was flying. So I turned around and headed down the hallway. My sister was walking up the hallway. I figured if she saw me flying she'd know I was flying and that I wasn't crazy.

But as I passed the front door of the apartment, right before I saw my sister, I passed a pair of high heels. The high heels were very strange. The toes and sides of them were covered in a red fabric with white designs. The heels were covered with something like blue denim and white designs. The shoes were then -- somehow -- fringed with white lace.

For some reason, these monstrosities really caught my fancy. I said, "Ooh!" And even turned back to look at them as I passed them. My sister saw how I paid attention to the shoes. I thought, Oh great. Now she'll think I like the shoes because I like wearing women's shoes. And she'll think that since I "like wearing women's shoes," I'm crazy.

My sister was already heading back up the hallway, toward the bathroom, which was near the kitchen. I turned around to follow her, hoping I could say something to her which would make her think I wasn't crazy.

But my sister was talking to me about some kind of fashion show, which the shoes had been a part of. My sister was talking about one dress in particular from the show. My sister either liked the dress or the model for the dress.

The model may have looked like an ultra-thin version of Scarlet Johanssen (I probably spelled that wrong). She had pale skin, and her hair was in a very 1930s-style, triangular kind of cut, not quite shoulder length, full of tight, blonde curls.

The model wore a red dress with white designs. The fabric of the dress was kind of thick and practical, not thin, sheer, or soft. The collar-line of the dress was very low and had a wide v-cut. The sleeves were kind off poofy, in an angular way.

The model also wore a blue hat, the fabric seemed to be like denim. The had basically just sat, tiltled kind of rakishly, atop the curls of the model's hair. It didn't really fit over the whole skull.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in some large building, like a museum or a student union kind of area. I was on the second floor. To my left was a balcony-like railing that looked out over the first floor. To my right was possibly a dining area.

My old friend Y was standing, leaning against the railing. I hadn't seen her in some time. I was happy to see her. And I was acting (and feeling) like I hadn't expected to see her. But I'm pretty sure I had been expecting to see her, like we'd made plans to meet here.

I walked up to Y and stood beside her, maybe kind of leaning against the railing like she'd been doing. All this time, I felt my mother's presence behind me. I may have heard her voice, too, as if she had somehow planned this meeting between me and Y and was now directing it.

Y was watching a movie that was being projected against the wall opposite the railing. The wall was maybe three stories tall. The projection was hitting the third-floor section of the wall. So we had to kind of look up to see it.

I'm not sure how we saw the movie: the wall was red brick; but the movie showed up just fine, anyway. I think it was a movie that we both liked.

Y and I had had some sort of small conversation. Just the sound of Y's voice made me so happy. I put my right arm around Y, not out of romantic feelings, but just because I was happy to see her again.

But Y was really put-off. She grunted something cold and nasty, even implying that she had some kind of sickness that I'd get by touching her.

She'd done this to me in the past. I knew she was just trying to freeze me out or gross me out so I'd leave her alone. I took my hands off her and watched the movie. We may also have continued talking about something.

Eventually we were planning to "meet for dinner." We walked away from the railing and over to the section of the floor that had dining tables.

But now Y changed into my friend H. H and I sat down at the table to eat. The table was a regular, round dining table, about 125cm in diameter, possibly covered over with a white tablecloth. But it was also crammed, both the table and the chairs, with all kinds of things, like household and personal items.

H and I were trying to sit down so we could eat. All this time I felt my mom's presence behind me. I may also have felt the presence of my old friend R. R's presence seemed particularly bitter.

Eventually I got sat down on a seat. But I was only halfway sat in the seat -- the rest of the seat being cluttered with stuff. I guess that H couldn't find any other place to sit. So she tried to sit on my lap. But something about my lap was making it really awkward for her to sit.

H was wearing a grey mini-skirt and a black shirt. But the mini-skirt kept riding up, almost revealing H's panties, as H tried to sit on my lap.

But now it seemed like H was getting into what I thought of then as a "slutty" mindset. She was really getting turned on by the way her skirt was riding up on my lap. Now she started to do it on purpose. She may even have been pulling it up with her hands and then putting it back down.

I might have started getting turned on. And I may have tried to make a move for H. But at this point, she may have gotten up and walked away. I may have been a little bitter about this. But I think I told myself that when H got back, she and I would just forget about it and have a nice dinner.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

My female friend H and I were in a mall at night. We were in one of the department stores. I think we wanted to head out of the mall.

We knew the exit we were at didn't lead to the section of the parking lot where our car was. But we didn't know what exit of the mall would lead us to our car.

But for some reason we were heading for the exit at the end of this department store, anyway. We walked out a double set of sliding glass doors.

As we passed between the two doors, a policeman, not a security guard, passed in front of us. He was a couple inches taller than I, kind of muscly, black, with lightish skin, and very short hair. He seemed to be trying to bully us or hustle us a little as he passed us.

The cop passed through the second set of doors, and we followed. After the cop got a couple meters away from the exit he turned around and did something like a sly, little look at us -- at me in particular, like he thought I was some sort of troublemaker.

I thought, Oh, god, I'm getting singled out all over again. The cop walked away. But I felt like I was going to get targeted for more harrassment.

I knew H and I had walked out the wrong exit of the mall. I knew the easiest thing to do would be to go back into the mall, straight through the mall, and to the correct exit.

But I felt like if the cop already had me singled out as a troublemaker, he'd probably either head back into the mall and harrass me or contact his cop friends and have them harrass me, if he saw me head back into the mall. So I figured the smartest thing to do would just be to walk all the way around the outside of the mall until H and I found our car.

Dream #2

I was sitting at a table in a food court area that kind of looked like the dining section at the student union of my old university. But this food court was either part of a mall or an airport -- or both.

There was one big area of seats, then a wide walkway, then another big area of seats. Both seating areas and the walkway were busy with people, all rushing all over the place.

I sat at a table full of people, mostly adults in their forties or fifties. But, off to my left, I saw somebody, maybe one of my old psychiatrists, sitting at another table.

I didn't want her to get up and hurry away before I got to talk to her. So I ran to her table. But when I got to the table, she was gone. But I felt like she was probably going to return. It was now like we were scheduled to meet. So I figured I'd sit here and wait for her -- so this time I wouldn't miss her.

But I realized I'd left my backpack (a huge, tall backpack!) at the previous table. So I got up and ran over to pick that up.

For some reason, I was now kind of wandering around in the seating area. I seemed to be upset with my most recent psychiatrist. I had feelings about her that were the same as IWL -- I felt like she neglected my deeper psychological issues all the time, always looking for a quick fix and easy way out -- to save herself the trouble of work.

For some reason, I felt like I finally needed to just complain to somebody about her. For a moment I may have complained to the psychiatrist I'd seen sitting at the table -- somehow. But that psychiatrist was now gone.

But now I saw my most recent psychiatrist's "boss," sitting in an armchair in a section of hallway after the seating area across the walkway from me. I went up to this woman and either sat in an armchair right next to hers, or knelt beside the woman's armchair.

The woman looked like Susan Seaforth, who played Julie Horton on Days of Our Lives, from around the time period of the late 1970s.



I either told the woman that I wanted to complain about my psychiatrist, or I just began complaining to her about my psychiatrist.

The woman listened to me for a moment. She then said that she understood what I was talking about. But she had to go take care of some business. When she got finished, she'd come back to me. I could tell her the rest of my story. And she could figure out what to do in response.

But I think this woman's "business" was to catch a flight. I'm pretty sure she even had luggage with her. It didn't register with me then -- but -- how long was I supposed to wait?

Dream #3

It was daytime. I was out on a wide, shallow, stone staircase with a lot of people. We all stood up near the top, near a whole wall of glass doors that looked in on a comparatively dark lobby. It was like we were all assembled out here for a photo.

I was playing some kind of important part in whatever proceedings we were all a part of. But there were these two really hot, young women right next to me. One of them, even though she was a really hot, young woman, may have been one of my friends' mothers.

The two hot girls began kissing each other. First they were just giving each other mild, quick, closed-mouth kisses. But then, either because I wasn't reacting much or because I actually was paying attention to them, they began to give each other slower kisses.

I was pretty aroused by this. The two girls kind of fed on my arousal and began giving each other open-mouthed kisses. They even kind of sunk down a bit, almost kneeling on the ground with each other. They may have been wearing wedding dresses, as if they were going to marry each other.

Now the young women opened their mouths slightly and began slowly sliding their tongues back and forth into each others' mouths. This was too much for me to handle.

The girls stood back up and were almost right in my face. So, even though I didn't want to start kissing my friend's mom, I just crept my face a bit closer. I began working my tongue in there a bit.

I was trying to get my tongue in there in the least intrusive way that I could. I was really turned on by the girls' lesbian kissing. I didn't want it to turn into straight kissing. I just wanted to get a little bit of the lesbian erotic energy on my own tongue.

Good morning, everybody.

I thought I'd share the passage below, since it relates to both dreaming and New Year's Eve. The passage is from Charles Dickens' story "The Chimes."

The plot device of "The Chimes" is similar to that of "A Christmas Carol": a ghost leads a man, Toby Veck, into the future, so that he can see the effects of the choices he makes in the present. The effects are terrible. So Toby mends his ways and lives happily ever after.

This quote comes from the end of the book.

"Had Trotty dreamed? Or, are his joys and sorrows, and the actors in them, but a dream; himself a dream; the teller of this tale a dreamer, waking but now? If it be so, O listener, dear to him in all his visions, try to bear in mind the stern realities from which these shadows come; and in your sphere, none is too wide, and none too limited for such an end -- endeavour to correct, improve, and soften them. So may the New Year be a happy one to you, happy to many more whose happiness depends on you! So may each year be happier than the last, and not the meanest of our brethren or sisterhood debarred their rightful share, in what our Great Creator formed them to enjoy."

Dream #1

I was in a laundromat which may have been a part of a department store or a K-Mart. I was at the far end of one of the aisles of machines. I think the machines were dryers, though they looked like washers. There were laundry carts cluttering all the way up the aisle.

Two guys were also in the aisle. I felt like they were my friends. They may also have been working at the laundromat. They were talking to each other without really regarding me. They were talking about some guy, who I eventually realized was me.

The guys were talking about how the guy was really conceited. They said that you could never tell this guy anything. And he'd never admit he was wrong. It made the atmosphere tense around him all the time. But he wasn't really so impressive that he should make people feel that way.

I thought, Wow. Is that really the way people feel about me? I realized I should really start watching how I act toward people. I thought I'd start right away, by treating my two friends nicely. I may have tried to say something nice to my friends.

But now I was suddenly sitting at a desk outside the aisles of laundry machines. I was looking at my phone. I was texting back and forth between my sister and my friend H.

I think I was just having a normal conversation with H. But my sister had gone into the hospital for something. So I was texting with her to find out how everything had gone.

But somebody, either H or my sister, was sitting at the near end of another aisle of laundry machines off to my right. The person was sitting with another couple of people, probably kids. They were all on the floor, maybe buried in coats.

I hadn't heard from my sister in a while. I wasn't getting worried about her health, necessarily. But I was worried that I'd said something to offend her, so that she'd stopped texting me and now wouldn't let me know if things were okay.

But I now got a text from my sister. It said something like, "Well, the doctor sent me and J (my brother-in-law) over to the pharmacy. So when I get my stuff from the pharmacy I'll be able to tell you what my problem was."

It was like the doctor knew the problem, but didn't tell my sister what it was. So my sister had to infer the problem from whatever kind of medicine she got.

The text did, however, seem to have a bit of a feeling of annoyance with me. So I tried to think of how I could be less annoying.

At the same time that I read the text, the person sitting on the floor off to my right was also speaking to me. It was like my sister was right there, telling me everything she had texted me.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in group meeting room with about twenty other people. The room was only partly lit, with a drab, greenish white, fluorescent light.

The room was divided into two parts. The back part was kind of empty, with maybe a long, folding table. The front part had a few couches and chairs. Most people were in or near the front part. The area was so full that people were standing up behind the back couch.

I had been standing way back in the back area, by myself. But now I walked forward to listen to what was going on. A young woman was leading the discussion. She sat on a couch on my right side.

To the woman's right, on the same couch, and on another couch, probably the back couch, sat two young men who looked a lot alike. They were both tall, thin, pale, and shaved-headed. They wore nice, casual khakis and dress shirts. I felt like I'd known both of the guys from high school.

I came to understand that this was a group discussing alien abductions. Aliens existed and were among us, in a very obvious way. And, somehow, the young woman was serving as something like a go-between, between the aliens and the people in this room.

Some of us in the room had been abducted. Others of us were, apparently, trying to be convinced to volunteer for abduction.

I was now sitting on a couch opposite the young woman. The man to the young woman's right was now speaking about his own abduction experience. I now realized that the young man's head had been shaved by the aliens, while they'd experimented on him.

The woman asked the man if the experience was really bad. The man said that most of the experience didn't really bother him at all.

The only part the man hated, he said, was when the aliens did a mental probe on him. He said that it felt really terrible to have all his memories drawn up. He could see them. But he wasn't controlling them. And he knew he was only watching them because someone else -- the aliens -- wanted to see them.

The man mentioned another part of the experiment he hated. As the man described it, it first sounded to me like the aliens had put the man through some kind of system where they'd caused his body to work as if it were under a lot of stress. But then the man said that the aliens had actually shut down the man's body entirely. He was dead, but still conscious.

This man's discussion was supposed to convince people that alien abductions weren't so bad. It didn't convince me. I got up and walked toward the back area. But I knew the second man was going to talk. I wanted to listen to him as well. I think I may still have been considering volunteering for an abduction.

Dream #2

I was in a group meeting room, like in the first dream. It was divided into two areas. The front area was full of people, and the back area only had a few people. I think most of the people were Indian. The room was warm with incandescent light.

On the right wall a movie was playing. All the couches in the front area were arranged to face the movie, like a makeshift movie theatre. I think everybody had plates of food.

There were plent of seats open on the couch. So I sat down on one. The couch felt really nice. It was a dull blue or pink, and it had a kind of soft, crushed velvet feel to it.

I looked up at the movie. Some really pretty Indian girl was either being taught or teaching someone how to make a kind of honeyed bread. It basically looked like a cornbread square, glazed in honey, with a walnut in the center, on top.

The girl was dressed in a traditional Indian outfit. There was a sense of sexuality, romance, and tradition all wrapped up in the food making.

I got the idea that this screening was a kind of preview for the film. The film wasn't finished yet, and we were all supposed to give our feedback on it, so that it could be tweaked for more audience enjoyment.

But I started to wonder if maybe this film wasn't a bit too stereotypical toward Indians, what with the food-making and tradition and so forth. I wondered if Indians would be offended by a film like this.

It didn't occur to me that the film was actually Hindi (it was -- it had English subtitles), and that pretty much everybody else in the room was Indian.

There was a father-like man standing near the couches. He had dark skin and a bit of a pot belly. He wore a button-up shirt of really nice, pale-blue material and nice, dark slacks. I thought I might go hang out with him, since I figured he'd have a better idea about all this stuff than I did.

Dream #3

It was daytime. I was walking through a forest, probably a pine forest. I was walking along a slope, not on any trail. The pine trees were all spaced well apart. The ground itself was black. It may have been black cinder soil, or (I think now) the forest could have been burnt down.

There must have been a road at the top of the slope, up to my right. Suddenly people came blasting down the slope! They were all laying, extended straight out, with their legs crossed and their arms crossed over their chests. And they were propelled so that they were rolling, tumbling, down the slope.

I followed these people down the slope. I reached a point where there was a cliff. I couldn't go any farther. The cliff must have been about fifty meters high. It ended with a flat valley of forest, of the same black-soiled, or charred look as the area up around me.

But one of the rolling, tumbling people, in his movement, had rolled right off the cliff.

I suddenly knew that this was all some game. People were thrown, almost at random, down the slope. There were all kinds of random land formations down the slope. Depending on fate, and the skill of the person, the person either would or wouldn't survive going down the slope. Survival, as well as something else, would determine who won this game.

But this person's path had been directly toward this cliff. There were a few places, going down the cliff, where the person managed to grab hold for a moment. But everything in the cliff was really soft. The cliff was like some shelf of really soft, brown coal.

Finally the person managed to grab onto a thick tree root that was growing out of the cliff wall. It might have been able to get him over to a thin ledge.

But it was obvious that the root was dead and rotten. The more the man pulled up on it, the more it was shifting its way out of the cliff. And, besides, even if the man got to the ledge, he'd be trapped there. There was no way down.

So the man just gave in to the fact that he'd lost. He either let go of the tree root or held onto the tree root until it finally snapped out of the cliff. The man fell maybe about twenty meters and died on impact.

There were already a bunch of people down on the ground by now -- some alive, some dead. The living had set themselves out in the valley, as if they were going to camp there for the night. Some of the living headed over to the man's body after they saw that he'd fallen to his death.

I walked back up the slope. I reached the top of the slope, where the road was. I saw cars passing along the road. I then understood that the people were tossed out, in their rolling positions, from the cars. This was what gave them such great speed (??? -- in a perpendicular direction?). I may even have seen another batch of people thrown out from the cars.

I think my mom, or at least somebody I knew, was up around here. I'm pretty sure, anyway, that somebody was calling my name or talking to me, probably from a slight distance, maybe even across the road from me.

I may have spoken a little bit with the person who had been speaking to me. But, even though I think the person was looking forward to me helping them with something, I told the person that I would be back in a moment.

I knew there was a really safe way to get down into the valley. I walked down the slope and kept going forward, in the direction of the road. The cliff merged into the slope farther along, and the slope became very mild.

I walked down along the mild slope to the valley. I figured that once I got down to where everybody was, I'd help bury the man I'd seen die, out of respect for him. But I also probably figured that I'd help bury all the dead. This game didn't make any sense.

Dream #4

I was sitting in some restaurant, probably a fast-food restaurant. It was daytime, and there was plenty of light coming in from the windows. There were a lot of people in the restaurant. The place felt packed, busy, and humid, like a coffee-warmed store on a winter's day.

I sat on the right side of a table for four. A police woman sat across the table from me. I don't think either of us had any food. The woman was white, kind of short, a bit overweight, with a round, pale face. She had frizzy, red-brown hair, drawn back in a braided pony tail. She had kind of thin eyes, pale blue-green. She looked like she may have been in her early twenties.

The woman was telling me something about how disappointed she was in me. I'd either done or said something that had really gone against her expectations of me.

Now she was pretty much through with me. I knew this was bad for me because, since she was a cop, now that she was through with me, she'd probably have the other cops start giving me a bad time.

The woman stood up to leave. I may have stood up to try to get her back. But I don't think I really knew what to say. So I probably gave up and sat back down just as soon as I'd stood.

Dream #5

In my head, I was talking with either my old friend R or his first or second wife. I'm pretty sure that the conversation eventually became between the first wife, N, and myself. As I had this conversation in my head, I was cleaning out a bathtub in a bathroom with kind of dim, warm, incandescent light.

I was telling N that I hated even talking to her and R. They seemed to love making me feel inferior to them. It was even like they operated as a team, taking turns saying nitpicky things or one-upping me, when the other person couldn't find the right thing to say.

I probably said that this was why I didn't want to go to some thing that N had invited me to. This probably ended the conversation.

As I was finishing the conversation, I noticed that my efforts to clean the bathtub were really failing. I'd sprayed cleaner all over the tub, and I was wiping the tub off with a sponge.

But I just seemed to be taking whatever grime there was in the tub and spreading it all over the entire tub. The spray bubbles themselves only seemed to be gathering up the grime and expanding it, so that now my tub's surfaces seemed to be coated in soapy grime.

I might possibly have realized that I'd need to wipe and re-wipe the surfaces before I got all this stuff off. The first spraying was to get everything wet. I'd have to spray again. Then the wet stuff would start coming off, leaving the surface clean.

Dream #6

A commercial from the late 1970s. A thin, prettyish, blonde woman was pushing a cart through a grocery store. A male narrator was talking about wise choices a mother should make while shopping.

The "wise choices," obviously, meant buying whatever product the narrator was advertising.

The view then switched to a view from the cart. The woman's face was framed in a circle in the center of the screen. The rest of the screen was black. This was supposed to be the view of the woman's baby, who was sitting in the cart.

The woman was making all kinds of kissy faces to the baby. The male narrator was now saying, in connection with making wise choices while shopping, that a baby will always imitate whatever a mother does. This implied that the baby was probably making kissy faces back to the mother.

Suddenly the mother let out a flat, kind of raspy burp. The mother was surprised, and a little apprehensive. She knew the baby would probably imitate her burp.

The view now shifted to a view more like the mother's view. The "baby" in the cart was actually a pretty, skinny girl, maybe seven years old. She was sitting in the basket of the cart, rather than the seat of it. But I felt like she was probably too old to sit in the cart, like a baby would.

Sure enough, the little girl, kind of looking up to her mother like a baby would, burped, in almost the same way as her mother did.

It was then nighttime. The mother was in her bedroom, which was pretty big. It was dark. But somehow the mother could be seen, maybe in a nightgown, masturbating.

The little girl, standing in the hallway in only underwear and a tank-top, was watching the mother through a crack in the door. With a baby-like mentality, the little girl thought she'd copy the mother, in front of the mother.

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

It was night. I was at the top of a steep hill, probably in a suburban neighborhood. I was with a few other people, probably my age or younger. A few lights lit our field of view, more like a car's headlights than streetlights.

Something was wrong with my female friend H. At one of my other female friends' request, to make H feel better, I was embracing her from behind and rubbing her chest.

I was probably rubbing the outsidde of H's shirt. But the shirt, some kind of tan tank-top, was so thin that I could feel H as if I were touching her skin. H's chest was flat, but she had huge nipples.

The way I was rubbing H was really turning her on. But she was attributing the sensations I was giving her to my other female friend. Pretty soon H had the female friend rubbing her chest up against H's chest. Both women had really flat chests.

H was now either wearing or not wearing a dress. The dress was a vanilla-yellow, sleeveless baby-doll type dress, with a bunchy top and a slightly belled-out, knee-length skirt. The dress was made out of a fabric like soft terry cloth. It had a zipper running up the back. H now either took this dress off or put it on.

Dream #2

I may have been standing all by myself out in the desert, possibly near or right under the gas pump island of a gas station. I may possibly have been talking to someone in my head.

I was a man, probably a soldier. I wore a light brown or tan uniform. Sometimes I was black, sometimes Latino, and sometimes white.

I was telling the person in my head about having been in the CIA mind control program MK-ULTRA. At the same time, I was remembering bits and pieces of my time there, as a subject.

After having been a subject, I'd had my memory erased. But bits and pieces of my time there kept coming back to me. As they did, I would be more inspired to look for more information regarding what had happened to me in the program.

I knew I'd been tortured in the program. But I only had very vague memories of it. Most of my memories seemed to revolve around sheets of paper with a lot of small writing and bar codes written on them.

My attempts to look into my experiences may have involved looking for more papers like this. But as I searched for more information, I was increasingly harrassed. People may even have come after me and started torturing me again, then re-erasing my memory.

I told the person in my head, a woman, that it was terrible to know this stuff was happening to me. I could start to see, everywhere in the environment, where things were put up to reinforce the brainwashing I'd been tortured into receiving.

Even the smallest thing could hold a sinister message. I was apparently still working for the military. I saw myself walking down a hallway, then passing a beige-painted pipe with a caution sticker on it.

The sticker had a few different bar codes on it, around its border and in a little square in the body, in the upper right hand corner of a lot of fine-print caution text. I knew that my mind had been trained to read these bar codes instinctively. Each bar code was a small statement, reinforcing my brainwashing.

I told the woman in my head that what was even worse was that almost everybody else around me was brainwashed, too. But most people were brainwashed simply to dislike the people who had been used as subjects for MK-ULTRA, to ostracize them.

I said that at first it wasn't so bad. But as time went on, the environment became so full of these people that it was too painful to go anywhere.

I imagined myself walking into the gas station. The man behind the counter treated me nicely at first. But it was almost like some kind of infra-red bar code scanner, placed up in a corner of the ceiling of the store, activated.

Suddenly, I could tell, the man behind the counter was getting the feeling he didn't like me. He was trying, still, to act polite. But it was obvious he was beginning to feel very uncomfortable around me, and that he just wanted me out of the store.

I was standing somewhere in the dark, rubbing my forehead and eyes in misery. I was telling the woman in my head how miserable it was to have this feeling pervade the environment everywhere I went.

The woman asked me if there wasn't some way I could destroy all the reinforcing equipment that had been put up in all these places around me.

I was standing back out in the desert, in the daytime, by the gas station. I told the woman, "No. I could destroy everything. But they have so much extra stuff underground. It wouldn't be any use. They'd just put it all right back."

I imagined some kind of diagonal elevator shaft leading way down underground, to some kind of big hangar or warehouse-type area, with a lot of different-colored pipes, people working, and bright white, fluorescent lights. This was probably where all the equipment was manufactured and stored.

Dream #3

My female friend MW, who IWL works and lives at a wildlife preserve in Nevada, was visiting New York. I was living in something like a dorm room. But MW was staying with me.

It was daytime. We were in my room, which was lit by a bit of natural light coming in through the window. We were both on my bed, a pretty small bed. MW was sitting cross-legged near the head of the bed. I was laying on my stomach, my head toward the head of the bed.

At the foot of the bed, a TV was playing an episode of The Chronic Rift (a community access TV pop-culture discussion show from the 1990s, the episodes of which are now available online). I had been trying to introduce MW to this show. But I was now only half interested. And MW was flipping through some photographs.

I now had to go somewhere else, probably to work. I left MW alone for the day. But as I sat at work (or wherever) I realized that I had left MW without any keys. She'd obviously leave my room. But she'd have to leave it unlocked. There was no way she could lock it.

I got a little worried. I tried to justify things to myself. I was trying to remember if there weren't some kind of minor, automatic lock on my door, like a doorknob that always locks from the inside. But I was pretty sure this wasn't the case.

I knew that if I left wherever I was to catch up with MW and give her my keys, it would take a lot of time out of my day. And I didn't want to look bad for taking all that time out of my day. But I thought it was probably more important for me to find MW and give her my keys, so that she could lock my door.

I now saw a photograph of MW, as she stood in front of the house she was living in during her work for the wildlife preserve. MW wore a red-pink t-shirt, khaki-colored hiking pants, a backpack, and a baseball cap.

MW stood at the curb of an asphalt road. Just behind MW was the start of a sandstone flagstone path that went up a shallow slope. The slope was like a lawn, but it had tan gravel, clumps of wild grass, and cacti, instead of the conventional green turf.

At the top of the slope was a small house made out of rough-hewn, but slim, sandstone slabs -- almost like horizontal flagstones, all piled on top of each other. The house looked just like a suburban house, except that it was made out of the sandstone slabs, which gave it a weird look.

Dream #4

I may have been talking in my head, again with my friend MW. We may have been talking about where MW came from.

I knew MW came from Michigan. I saw a map of the United States and Canada. My vision was mostly focused on the northern, central part of the United States, the Great Lakes region. The map almost, really, looked like a satellite view of the United States -- but it was as if the United States were completely covered in snow -- even the Great Lakes!

I was trying really hard to remember where Michigan was. I felt at first like it must have been to the west of the Great Lakes. But I then felt like it must have been right in the middle of all the lakes, squeezed in between two of the more northern-extending lakes. I remembered that Michigan looked like a mitten. So I kept trying to find a mitten-shaped state.

I was now in a commercial jet, apparently, with MW. But we were both looking down to the ground from the plane through some kind of window or plexiglass structure in the floor.

We were at cruising altitude, i.e., about 10,000 meters. But the view was really like we were only 100 meters or so above the ground. We were also floating in one static position.

The view was of a snow-covered pine forest, with a road running through the forest. The road was pretty lonely. But a few cars did occasionally pass along it. The forest seemed dense in most places. But there were some empty spots, like clearings for very small ranches or farms. The extension of a small, wooden fence may even have been visible. It was still snowing, too.

MW and I spoke a little bit more about MW's hometown. We were floating very close to it right now. I told MW I wondered if we couldn't just go to MW's house for a little while.

But MW said it would take too much time. We'd planned to meet here. We couldn't go away from this spot. MW was talking as if we were on the ground, at an airport, with a long time between flight connections. But we didn't have enough time to leave the airport altogether.

MW and I looked away from the window. I saw the interior of the plane very vaguely, as if I were still half-looking out the window. But the plane looked like a nice private jet, with light-tan leather upholstery for the seats, and even for the walls!

MW and I spoke for a bit about how we'd planned to meet here. I knew I'd flown to this area in one commercial plane. MW had flown here in another plane, probably this one. At some point, when the planes were in proximity, I moved from one to the other.

I now started thinking to myself about all of this. At first I thought this was because the two planes had docked with each other. I thought I had come through some sort of little docking tunnel.

But then it became apparent that what I'd probably done was teleport myself from the plane I'd been on to the plane that MW was on.

As I was thinking about all this, my view drifted back down to the view of the ground. But then my view seemed to drift even farther out, up so that I could even see up along the fuselage of the plane, into the snowy, grey sky.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was walking outside with my mom. Everything was dark blue with early morning light. My mom and I had been walking outside all night long. We were now finally heading inside. My mom may have been planning to take me home, or to the airport so I could go home.

My mom was talking to me about an idea she had for making the roads and walkways in old cities such that old buildings could be preserved. Apparently this meant making more walking and biking space and less space for cars.

My mom and I may have been walking through an old city or a college campus that looked like an old city. We walked past a stone building that was really big and circular. It seemed to stand out by itself in some kind of plaza or between lawns.

We walked down a stairway along the side of the building. The stairway led to a doorway in a small space the floor of which was maybe five or six feet below ground level.

As we went down the stairway, my mom told me, "I might have you write a report on my project. The paper doesn't have to be long. Only four pages. But I know you can do that before you have to leave. Then I can take you home."

I felt really inconvenienced. My mom and I had been out all night, doing something for her. Now I had barely any time before I had to focus on getting back home. But my mom wanted me to take time to write a report.

I didn't even know anything about the subject. I'd have to do some research. I was rushing through my thoughts, trying to figure out the fastest way to take care of everything.

Meanwhile, my mom was opening the doorway. There wasn't a door: the doorway was actually just sealed with a huge, marble slab, which my mom struggled to pull open. The slab seemed really heavy, but my mom pulled it aside. I was amazed. But later the slab may just have been a length of sheet rock or cardboard.

We walked in through the doorway. We were inside what looked like a fire escape stairway. The staircase zigzagged up. The light in the stairwell was a cold incandescent, and the walls were peach-colored.

My mom was already a few steps up the staircase. I followed. My mom told me something like, "I know you're doing a lot for me. And I'll pay you back for it."

I suddenly had a vision in my mind's eye of my "payback." There was a pretty girl, visible only from the neck down. She was totally naked, except for a pair of black, knee-high nylons. I thought it was kind of disappointing that my mom thought she could pay me back for work by finding some girl for me to have sex with.

But I was already trying to figure out how to attack the research for the paper, so I could get it over with. I was trying to think of two cities with a good amount of old buildings that needed preservation. My two thoughts were London and Paris.

I was now trying to figure out how to begin the paper, talking about the old buildings. I then figured I'd do some research about the general conditions of the buildings in London and Paris. I then thought I'd do research on the effect of smog from cars on building surfaces.

I may also have thought I'd look into towns that had implemented extensive biking programs. I knew there were some. I'd see what I could find out about the condition of buildings in those towns.

I was now in a train station with my female friend H. It was daytime. The train station was very new, nice, and clean. H and I were the only ones in the train station.

The train station's waiting area was large, full of long, wooden benches. It was indoors. But the roof was metal, lined along the top of the walls with clear, clean windows. And the front end of the waiting area opened directly to the train platforms. So the waiting area felt very open, with a lot of light from the outdoors.

H worked for the train station. I had done something good for her, put a lot of effort into helping her out with something. Now she was going to pay me back, she said, by paying for my train ride somewhere (maybe to Philadelphia).

I walked up to the ticket booth at the front of the waiting area. The booth was glass walled, with four or five desks for workers. But it was completely empty. Nobody was there. It was too early for any of the booth workers to be here yet.

My friend H said something like she wasn't really going to pay for my ticket. What she meant was she was going to give me good hints on how to sneak onto a train, so I wouldn't have to pay. Since H worked for the train station, she was taught things like this, so she could have free train rides as a perk.

I didn't see H anymore. It was like she was ten or twenty meters away from me, somewhere in the rows of benches. I heard H's voice in my head, too, not out loud.

H told me what I had to do. I took off my backpack (? - I don't have a backpack IWL) and lay it on the ground. I then crawled along the ground, right in front of the ticket booth, until I got to the right side of the ticket booth. There were something like subway entrance turnstiles.

H told me that I had to be very careful, and that I couldn't count on making it, because the booth workers were very attentive to anybody who might try to cheat them. But I felt like I was a pretty good sneak and that I could make it.

I'd gotten past the turnstile. I wanted to take the first train I could get out of town. I didn't want to wait around. I looked up at an LED sign saying when the trains were leaving.

One train, which may have been labelled "Manhattan," was leaving at 11:11 AM. It was leaving from track one, which was two or three tracks down from me, about fifty meters away. I may even have seen the train.

I jogged a little, just in case I was cutting the time close. I looked up at a motorized clock, the hands of which indicated that it was either 2:10 or 11:10, even though I assumed the hands indicated it was 11:10.

I knew that the old motorized clocks in all the stations were all slow, and that it was probably 11:11, if not later. I broke into a run, to be sure I'd catch the train.

I noticed, as I approached track number 1, that there was a wide alcove with some kind of snack bar or express restaurant off to my right. I felt kind of hungry, but I kept running.

But I looked off to my left and saw that the train was already pulling away. By the time I stopped running, the train was already long gone.

I knew I'd have to wait for another train. But this didn't seem so bad to me: I felt like another train would probably be here in half an hour.

But now I wondered if this "hint" H had given me on how to get onto trains was any help, after all. Now that I was remembering my train rides, once I was on the train, I'd always have to show my ticket to the conductor, who would walk past all the seats with his ticket-stamper.

I may have snuck past the turnstiles. But once I got onto the train I wouldn't have a ticket. I'd get kicked off.

I may have tried to justify this. But it didn't make sense. I knew there were stations along the route with no turnstiles. Anybody could just walk onto the train. The only way the conductor would know if you paid was if you had a ticket.

I wondered if I could just get onto a train, sit down, and ask the conductor himself if I could pay him for a ticket.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a huge building, either like a mansion or a museum. The building was dim, as if at night, with only a few lights on.

I had been in a back area, where there was a high, wooden wall, with a tall window up high on the wall. I then walked forward to some narrow area with a slanted, wall-like display stand or case.

My old friend R was standing in front of this display area. He stood really close to it. He seemed to be trying to avoid looking at me. I somehow knew he'd gotten a reputation for being violent, almost psychotic. He was so tired of dealing with this reputation that he didn't even want to have to look at anybody.

But he actually was as violent as people accused him of being. And he actually wanted to act violently toward me, because he felt I'd somehow insulted him.

I faced R. But now he was in a room even closer to the front of the building. He was in a little niche in a wall to my right. He may even have been wrapped in bandages, like a mummy.

I wanted to prove that there was no reason to be afraid of R and that I wasn't afraid of him. So I handed R a whole bunch of items that looked like huge items of silverware: like huge forks and knives. There were also some huge tongs that looked like forks. Everything was sharp, and I knew it could all be used as a weapon to kill me.

I was now going to leave the house. The idea was, I knew, that if R had weapons and I left the house, that R would kill me. But I was going to prove people wrong. Nevertheless, I was still afraid to leave through the front door.

I ran all the way to the back of the building. There was a window I'd easily be able to climb up to and crawl out of. But as I started crawling out the window, I felt like R might be right there, waiting to throw the weapons I'd given him at my chest.

So I climbed back down. To my right, as I faced the wall, there was a dim kitchen, just like a kitchen in any nice suburban house. Just above the sink was another window. I thought that since R thought I was going to come out the back window, I'd be safe going out the kitchen window instead.

But as I was climbing out the window, I could feel R's presence again. I knew that this time he probably would manage to catch me, throwing the sharp weapons I'd given him at my chest and piercing my heart.

Dream #2

I was looking at a magazine, maybe a porn magazine. The pages were nothing but photos, maybe six photos per page, in the same kind of style as a porn magazine.

The photos showed two girls in bed. They were about nine or ten years old. They were wearing pajama pants and pajama shirts. Apparently, under their pajama pants the girls were wearing diapers.

The girls got into a kind of sixty-nine position with each other. The girl on top of the other girl rubbed her face against the bottom girl until her pants had been worked off. She somehow managed to remove the girl's diaper in the same way.