maboroshi

Good morning, everybody. I'm glad it's the weekend.

I remember two dreams from last night.

Dream #1

I was on the second floor of an art museum. The floors were set up to be wide open, with tall ceilings. The floors were dark concrete. I could see down to the first floor from a weird-shaped cutaway.

The art was all sparsely placed. It was all like sculptures made out of different random items. Some stuff was tall and hanging from the ceiling. Other stuff stood alone on the floor. Other stuff was on the walls.

I don't remember the name of the exhibit, but I remember it struck me as very edgy and interesting, like something about global pop art by some oppressed group of people.

I was then down on the first floor, possibly in front of the cash register at the gift shop. I was with a woman. We were talking to the cashier, a very pretty woman.

She was telling us something about how this exhibit traveled. The way she told us made it sound like Europe, Japan, and the US were all situated in three layers, one on top of the other. I saw all three regions in my mind's eye as pieces of geographically-shaped plastic, one stacked on the other.

Dream #2

I had either taken heroin or had it injected into me. I felt a little warm and dizzy. I walked around in a bedroom and then went out to a living room.

The room was dim and yellowish, as if bright sun from outside were blocked by thick, beige curtains.

I knelt before a bed and rested my arms and head on the bed. A tall, skinny, white man with slightly tanned skin and blue eyes sat on the bed.

He looked down at me and said, "Did you take the heroin? Yeah, I took some, too. Only thing is, now that you've taken it, you'll see that you can't stop. Sure, you feel fine now. But wait till it wears off. You'll be screaming in pain."

I was afraid. I didn't want to be addicted. But I couldn't even remember how I'd gotten the heroin in my system. I remembered some vial of amber colored liquid. It had been injected into the space between my shoulder and neck.

I thought, Well, maybe I won't be addicted. After all, the guy said I'd feel really good and then really bad. But I don't feel really good. I only feel normal, maybe just a little bit warmer than usual.