maboroshi

Good morning, everybody.

I was in a place that may have been like a mix between a bedroom and a clothing store. The place was small and crowded with clothes and other items.

A group of black kids had done something to me. Possibly it had something to do with something perverted about me. They might have stolen or ruined a bunch of women's lingerie that I owned.

I had discovered this upon either waking up or coming out of some small place like a dressing room. At first I didn't say anything. But when I didn't react, the kids, both boys and girls, got really rowdy, taunting me. They may now even have threatened doing something to my mom.

So I decided to call some woman who was an authority figure over all of us and tell her what was going on. I picked up a cell phone off a couch that a bunch of the girls were laying on. As soon as I started dialing, a few slightly overweight girls gathered around me, yelling that I better not call the lady. But I had already dialed, and I wasn't going to hang up.

I got some weird message. The woman said she was out. She gave some big explanation about why she was out, which sounded like a blog-style rant about how hectic life is.

I now stood in a doorway at the woman's apartment. The woman had just taken a shower and she was walking around, getting dressed. She was really pretty, blonde, probably in her late 20s. She probably had a towel around her body and a towel around her head. She kept talking on and on about all these airheaded things that were apparently reasons that she was too busy to take my call.

I was trying to place the girl. She looked like a celebrity. Cybil Sheperd? No, her eyes were pale green and thin, her hair was too long, and she was too tan. Eventually I was amazed at how out of it this girl was. I thought, She can't help me. She's useless!

Good morning, everybody.

My nighttime discipline has been terrible lately! Last night, I spent too long watching the Girls' Generation "Visual Dreams" video and some anime stuff on YouTube. It wrecked my dream recall.

One thing before I do the dreams. At the Japan Society in NYC a series is currently running showcasing the work of the director Sabu.

On Wednesday I watched Sabu's film Monday. The plot of the story revolves around a businessman who wakes up after having been drunk for two days. He slowly recalls all the things he did while he was drunk.

The story reminds me of waking up and looking back on a dream. But at a certain moment the main character takes charge over his actions. At this moment, the "dream" stories become more like lucid dreams.

There aren't any extreme special effects. But I think the film, in itself, is very good. And I think it's also good as a metaphor for the dreaming and lucid dreaming processes.

Anyhow, I want to suggest that anybody in or near NYC go to the Japan Society to check out some of Sabu's films. Sabu is there to introduce each film and do a Q&A. So that's also incredible.

Dream #1

I was in my great-grandmother's backyard on a sunny day. My great-grandmother was still alive. My family may have been near me somewhere. My great-grandma was talking to me, possibly standing very close to me, or possibly through some kind of telepathy.

I was now in my "great-grandma's basement." I stood before a bed that was covered in deep blue sheets. My great-grandma told me something about my great-grandfather. I got the feeling that this may have been the bed my great-grandfather had died in.

My great-grandma now told me that I had to lay in the bed. It was as if I was going to be in town for a while, and that I would have to stay at this house while I was here. So I'd be using this bed.

The bed was now different. The previous bed didn't have any headboard. But this bed had a very fancy headboard of nice wood. The bed also had blankets. In fact, the bedding appeared to be a very nice, homemade quilt with mint-green squares alternating with white squares with pink flower (?) designs on them.

I was a little afraid to lay in the bed. I felt like it had been empty for so long that maybe bedbugs had started to live inside of it. I thought I would check the bed for bugs. But I knew my great-grandmother was somewhere around me. I didn't want to check the bed in front of her and offend her by implying that she had neglected the bed.

Dream #2

I was in some museum or art gallery. I was in a room, possibly laying face down on a cushioned bench that was backed up against a wall. My head kind of hung down over one end of the bench. This specific room was spacious but small, kind of dimly lit, with white walls and possibly some thin carpet.

There had been some big art exhibit opening. The opening included some kind of presentation by the artist, a woman who kind of looked like Laurel Nakadate. Now everybody was milling around or leaving. Most of the people looked like somewhat wealthy business people.

The artist woman leaned against the wall near the bench on which I lay. I was playing with some device like an iPhone. All the icons on the phone were squares with a swirly pattern of pinks, browns, and oranges. I was scanning through a number of different icons.

The artist said something to me like, "I could never figure out how those things worked. You seem to know it pretty well. You must be smart."

I figured from this that the artist couldn't afford to own an iPhone. I let her look at mine, so she could figure out how to use it. But as soon as I handed it over, I felt a little bit of anxiety. I knew I had a lot of really wacky porn sites still up on my internet. I hoped that she wouldn't look through my internet history.

The artist, did, however, end up scrolling through my internet history. As the artist continued using the phone, the phone became something like a sit-down driving game like you would see in an arcade. The artist was sitting inside the game, scrolling through my internet history, which was a black screen, with old, pixellated, dim-white lettering. The room also became dim, like an arcade.

The artist, thankfully, kept scrolling down to sections full of internet searches I'd apparently done for really fancy recipes. Also, there seemed to be some sections where I'd taken pictures of these fancy dishes I made.

The artist may have made some comment about how nice it was that a guy actually put effort into making all these delicious meals. That comment made me even more afraid of the artist finding the porn sites.

I thought that maybe I'd get lucky and that the artist might not happen upon any of the porn sites that I'd looked at on my phone. But she eventually did. The porn sites in question were apparently of me, all by myself, on my bed, masturbating or dressed in women's underwear.

At some point the arcade game version of my phone became my phone again, although at certain times the views were coming straight into my head, as if I were just imagining them all. The artist was gone, although I may have heard her talking to me, as if I were hearing the conversation telepathically or through "memory-phone."

I now stood before a bed in an almost completely dark room. I may have thrown the phone on my bed. I still had the weird photos of me running through my head. Eventually I got on the bed, standing on my knees.

(Side notes: Dream #2 implies that I look for porn and fancy recipes on the web. This is wrong. I don't look for fancy recipes. But I probably should, because I think cooking is really cool.)

Good morning, everybody. My dream recall has been slim over the past week. But I remember three dreams from last night.

Dream #1

I walked up through some tangle of vegetation, out onto a clearing that looked like an enormous, slightly sloped, corrugated tin roof. The roof was surrounded with vegetation like tree limbs and shaggy vines, which seemed to be hanging down from the brick walls of buildings. It was a sunny, cold day.

One of my old friends, M, stood on the roof. His face was grizzled. He was balding a little, and his hair was unkempt. He wore a brown and white flannel shirt.

I had been sent by a group of people (pretty girls?) below to offer something to M, something to keep him warm or entertained while he was hanging out on the roof. M had sent me away once, refusing whatever I had offered. But the pretty girls now sent me back, offering something else they thought M would want more.

M got annoyed and asked me, "Can't you see that all I really want is to be left alone for a little while?"

I realized now that M's being up here in this weird space was part of some kind of training or re-charging practice. He needed his solitude for the whole thing to work.

M began to tell me some kind of wierd story about popping chesnuts. I looked down at the roof and saw that chesnuts lay all about. Something about roasting and popping chesnuts fit perfectly with whatever M was trying to do up on the roof.

At another point, M was standing by a tree limb. Something like the seed case for a milkweed plant hung from the limb. The seed case quickly expanded like a balloon (or a condom!) until it was 1.5 meters long, transparent, and yellowy white. I knew the tree was about to release seed or even a whole organism, either a tree or possibly even some kind of animal.

Dream #2

I was with some people (my mother and some other family members?) in some plaza-like area that seemed to be at the top of a hill. The plaza area was before some kind of public area like an amusement park. There was a winding complex of roads, circles, and walkways, bordered by nice, red- and tan-stone buildings. It was a sunny day.

I looked into the distance, down a straight stretch of road, to another complex of nice looking buildings. We had come to pick up something from the buildings in the distance. But I'd made the mistake of getting us to this nearer set of buildings. I wasn't sure how to get to that complex of buildings. I figured the best way to get there was by walking (even though I'm pretty sure we'd driven to get here and could easily have taken a car).

One of the group, possibly my mother, started complaining about how far away the complex of buildings was (it was three or four hundred meters away). She complained that I'd come here not knowing how to get what I'd wanted and that now I didn't even know how to get to the place where I could get what I wanted.

I felt like arguing with her, telling her that I did know how to get what I wanted, and that I'd just aimed a little wrong. But I didn't feel like getting myself distracted or my mom upset by argument. I figured I would just stay confident in what I wanted and keep going forward.

I led us through some kind of long pool that went before the front of a long series of short, red-stone buildings that looked kind of like college dormitories. The buildings were to our left. To our right was a narrow, stone path, to the right of which was another long series of buildings. The pool was about waist-deep. The walls were white, and the water was clean, like chlorinated water in a swimming pool.

I called back to the people with me, "Don't you see we're going right where we need to go? We're taking a straight shot there, and we even get to cool off in this pool!"

Before us now was a staircase leading out of the water. Two little girls wearing purple swimsuits (one girl wearing a one-piece and the other wearing a bikini with a fluttery waistline) walked up out of the water. We followed the girls up the staircase.

We were now in an old-looking building that seemed like a museum or an old library. The lights were all off, but plenty of greenish-yellow light came in through windows. The floors were some kind of waxed concrete or dull-colored stone. There were stone columns everywhere, and some heavy, wood counters just out of the corner of my field of vision.

The group of people I was with was now two or three young adults, probably all women. The building was a hotel, and one of the women was talking to an older woman, asking about the pricing for the hotel. The older woman wore a long, blue skirt and a white blouse, and her black hair was done up in a 1950s style. She also may have been wearing some kind of gold necklace with a cameo pendant.

The hotel rate was something like $499 (or even $700) a night. The older woman explained that that was the way things were when you were in the city in Hawaii. I told the girls I didn't think there was any way we could afford a hotel at that rate. We couldn't stay here.

The older woman then pointed out a black and white poster on a column, advertising a special kind of "two- or three-room hotel" for only $299 a night. The older woman explained that once you got out of the city, things got a lot cheaper.

I couldn't help thinking that being that far out of the city would make the hotel cheap and risky. But the woman continued talking about the hotel. She said that each hotel was more like a house. It had two to three bedrooms, was completely separated from other dwelings, and even had a yard. The only reason it was so cheap was because nobody wanted to stay outside of the city, even though the trip back into the city wasn't bad at all. "20 to 30 miles at the most," the older woman said.

The situation kept sounding better and better to me. But I was still a little uncertain. I kept wondering if we'd have some kind of surprise roommate once we got there -- some guy who would be a complete creep. I also kept seeing all kinds of vegetation covering the house, and I was wondering whether the vegetation was corroding the house and making it unliveable.

Dream #3

I went to some kind of convention, probably with other people, possibly family members, including my mother. The convention was in a wide building. I walked into the lobby first. The lobby was vast. It had white tile floors and was bright with harsh, green-white fluorescent light.

There were tallish, round tables everywhere. People were gathered lazily around the talbes, talking to each other, doing stuff related to registering for the conference, and waiting for the conference to begin. A couple of tables may have been staffed by workers, some of whom may have had boxes full of t-shirts on their tables. In one wall of the lobby was set a little concession booth.

I may have had to go back out to the parking lot to get something I'd forgotten. I was kind of afraid to go back out and come back in. The registration people didn't seem to like me, and they made me feel really uneasy.

I was now in an auditorium. The presentation I had attended in the auditorium was now finished. Everybody was filing out of the room. I stood at the front of the auditorium, possibly near the woman who had been presenting. The woman was now putting some materials away and getting ready to leave the room.

Near me was a cardboard box, probably with clothes in it. I realized I was wearing a white, silk-and-lace teddy and white pantyhose. I wondered how I could have missed for so long the fact that I was wearing this outfit. Nobody said anything about me. Nobody even seemed to notice me. But I felt like I needed to change out of these clothes and into my regular male clothes as soon as possible.

I walked through a set of hallways, looking for a bathroom I could go into to change. As I walked past groups of people, I got more and more afraid of being noticed and ridiculed. But nobody seemed to notice me.

At some point I found a restroom. When I went in to change, I seemed to have difficulty figuring out how I could take off this lingerie while putting on my regular male clothes at the same time. It seemed inconvenient and embarrassing. At some point I may have thought I would just put my shirt and jeans on over the lingerie and leave it at that until I left the convention.

Good morning, everybody. I remember four dreams from last night.

Dream #1

I was in a big airplane, either in the cockpit or near it while its door was open. In the plane were just me, the pilot, and one of my male friends. The sky outside was grey and wet.

We were taxiing down a runway. We picked up speed, as if we were going to take off. But we weren't getting up enough speed, in my opinion.

I could see from outside and just above the plane. The runway we were on looked way too short for our plane to get up enough speed to take off.

We taxied around the runway roads, clockwise, trying to loop back around and hit the long runway again with a little bit of momentum so we could build up enough speed to take off.

But somehow we ended up (as if we had been travelling counterclockwise) driving the plane outside of the airstrip and onto a strip of road before a large, Victorian-style house. The house was adjacent with the chain-link fence bordering the airport.

A military man in camouflage stood beside the airplane, talking with the pilot, as if he were just standing beside the window of some bus, not a huge airplane. The military man was older, white, tanned, with shortish, square-cut, white hair.

The military man said that the town in which this airport was located was being evacuated soon, anyway. Once it was evacuated, nobody would mind us using the public streets as a runway. That way we could easily get up enough speed to take off.

The military man said, "Heck, maybe even some of the people we evacuate out of the town would like to fly some planes with you!"

Somebody, maybe I, suggested that we get "some of those little planes" (in my mind's eye I saw cone-shaped planes maybe 3-4 meters long, painted white with red triangles pointing away from the nose). The "little planes" could easily get up enough speed to take off from a small runway like this.

We drove the plane away. The military man said he'd order some of "those little planes." He may even have started talking with a younger military man about the order.

It was now night. I stood before the Victorian house, in some little niche set between the wall and the staircase up to the front door. In the niche was an old-style, wooden podium. The podium may have held a big book.

I was probably here to talk to the military man regarding the little planes. I wasn't trying to speed up the order. I was actually trying to figure out what the planes were, to see if they were the right things to use. But I figured my being here to ask about the planes would make me look impatient, and that I'd get on the military's bad side because of it, if I didn't do things the right way.

Somebody came out to talk to me. He was a younger soldier, in formal dress, even a hat (which kind of looked like a Nazi hat). He explained a few things to me about the higher-ups' names. I tried to keep it all in mind.

The man saluted me. I was so surprised that I saluted back, with tears in my eyes (for some reason). Somehow I could see the man reflected in my tears, as if the tears were the surface of sunglasses.

I was alone again. I turned to the book in a frenzy. I had just forgotten everything the man had told me. The high-up military man's name was Wellinghoff. Or was it Norris? I couldn't remember. And I couldn't remember the correct titles of all the higher-ups, either.

Dream #2

I was in a bookstore or library. It had an old feel to it. It was all made of wood. It was open, with a ground level and probably a balcony level running along the walls. The ceilings were very high. The center of the store was mostly small, wide tables with books displayed on the. The walls were lined with shelves.

I saw, from high up, a couple of my female friends. One of them was aw woman I haven't seen since college. I decided to go say hi to them.

To get to them I began climbing down a wooden pole about 20cm in diameter. I was climbing down the pole head first for a way. Then I did some weird kind of fllip move so that I was climbing down feet first.

I ended near some small, tight, spiral staircase, for which this long pole may have served as a support column. The pole seemed to end a couple meters above the ground. I had to jump the rest of the way down. The two women were right nearby.

I slowly, flexibly reached away from the pole. I relaxedly leapt away from the pole, almost as if I were floating away from it. I landed very softly on my feet.

Thinking that the women would think I was showing off with all I had just done (I wasn't exactly sure myself how I had done it), I started talking naturally to act like nothing had happened.

I began fumbling through a couple of books and even something that looked like a mix between a woman's wallet with a tiny mirror on the front. The wallet may have been a dark blue suede, and it may have had some black and white photo of a famous actress or famous work of art on it.

Dream #3

I was in a department store. The store looked kind of cheap and run-down. I was now at the counter, getting my stuff rung up. The person ringing me up was a woman, but I don't know if she was older or younger.

Something went wrong, and the woman needed to wait before she charged me. I decided to walk around the store some more.

Off to the left of the cash register and a little ways away was a rack of really cheap-looking lingerie. For some reason, I decided to look through it. I took a few items off the rack, as if I were either going to buy them or try them on.

At some point, I came to the conclusion that I was in a Victoria's Secret.

I looked down into a plastic tub (?) which had a few stray pairs of panties inside. I figured that if I was buying or trying on the lingerie, I'd also need to try on some panties. So I tried to pick some out.

I remember one pair of panties that was like a thong, pale yellow, with a cottony back and a sheer, net-like front with flower designs on it. Another pair was like briefs. The material was blue like denim. But it had a weird, scaly look and feel.

Just to my left was a window wall. Just beyond the wall was another rack of lingerie. A big, tall, black man in a black t-shirt and sunglasses was fingering through the lingerie. I could see that he was also looking for articles of lingerie to try on.

Dream #4

I was in "my shower," which was a shower-only stall. It was set into the end of the narrow bathroom.

Either my shower curtain had broken or I had decided I'd needed to adjust it somehow. I took the curtain off the rod. Then I tried to put it back on.

I suddenly realized that by taking the curtain off the hook I'd screwed everything up. The curtain was actually just a gigantic plastic bag, like an enormous version of a grocery bag. The bag had been folded around the rod and against the wall (even into holes in the wall?) in so many weird ways that I likely couldn't replicate it.

I figured I'd do my best and try to re-do things. I was up on the wall, looking down on the shower curtain. I don't know how I was up there -- possibly by holding myself in place by doing the splits and holding each foot against the wall? I began working on the gigantic plastic bag.