maboroshi

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 living room with a couple people I knew. One of them may have been my mother. I sat on the couch, which was positioned, it seems, in the middle of the living room, so that I was looking, to my left, into a hallway.

Somebody just next to me, on my left. This person may have been my mother. Another woman walked up to us and sat on a wooden chair that was just beside the couch. The woman was really tall and skinny, with pale skin and dark red hair. I was really attracted to her.

The woman started talking to the other person on the couch about how she'd met some guy she really liked. The guy was really sensitive and caring, and he always knew the right thing to do for the woman, or the right thing to give the woman.

This whole time, the woman may have been looking at me. The woman may have thought, in the past, that I liked her. She may have liked me as well. But I had been so ambiguous with her that she had finally given up on me. But it seeemed like even now, talking about this guy, she thought there was hope for her and me.

But the woman was still talking about the guy. She said the guy had brought her a cake the other day. The woman said the cake was a special kind of cake, something like a wedding cake. But it had blue frosting instead of white. The only white was the trim. I saw the cake in my mind's eye. It was actually pretty beautiful.

As the woman spoke about this cake, her eyes lit up, and I could tell that she really did think the man was romantic.

Dream #2

I walked into a movie theatre. The theatre was kind of small and a little bit worn-out looking. But it had stadium seating and big, cushiony chairs.

The movie was just about to start. But everybody was just filing in. Everybody here was really old and a little bit eccentric or crazy. Everybody also seemed to know each other. They were all talking with each other easily, asking about their lives.

I went to a seat a couple rows back from the front, toward the right wall of the theatre. As I was getting ready to sit down, a very pretty, professional-looking woman sat in the row behind me. Some of the people seemed to know her, though not so well, and they greeted her.

The woman seemed to be attracted to me. I was attracted to her. But I was too shy to try to flirt with her. But we may have spoken a bit, maybe about the film's director, about whom the woman didn't know very much.

The movie, or the previews, may now have been beginning. I was getting ready to sit down in the chair. But I suddenly realized that the seats in front of me had such tall backs that once I sat in my own chair, the back of the seat in front of me would be blocking half my view of the screen!

I realized this was because the ramping upward of the stadium seating didn't begin until one or two rows behind where I was right now. So I figured I'd move back a couple of rows. But I didn't want to move back behind the woman. This might make her feel like I was trying to avoid her. I definitely wasn't.

The woman, who may now have been sitting with her husband: a man about fifty or sixty years old -- and who herself may now have been about fifty or sixty years old -- asked me if my seat was alright.

I didn't want to look like I was picky about my seats. So I said my seat was alright. To get a full view of the screen I just sat on the arm of the seat, instead of sitting in the actual seat. The arm of the seat had had its cushioning torn off, and it was just a ridged, black rectangle of metal, about the size of a brick.

The movie began. It may have been from the 1970s. The opening scene may have been very colorful, with titles in lavender lettering flashing on the screen. There was also a narrator who spoke either in French (while English subtitles ran across the bottom of the screen) or in English with a French accent.

Dream #3

It was the time of the U.S. Civil War. A man from the Southern states had decided that the cause of the South was unjust. He decided he was going to stand against the South's decision to enter into war.

The man was white, tall, pale-skinned, bald on most of his head, but with unruly, long, red-brown hair along the sides and back of his head, and a long, kind of thin, red-brown beard. He wore a military uniform, it seemed to me, of a very dark blue color (which would be funny, if he was in the South *and* against the war).

The man's community decided to turn against him. I could hear a group of older men, probably about the man's age and older, conspiring against the man.

As I heard the men speak, my view became a bird's eye view of a modern-day warehouse, or a really big garage for semi-trucks. It was a sunny day. The big garage was beige-walled and brown-roofed, and seemed to be made all out of sheet metal.

The conspiring men were saying something like, "There's two kinds of people in the South: the yas'sahs, and the no'sahs." (Which meant "yes sirs," and "no sirs.") "The yas'sahs are on our side. The no'sahs are against us. And this man is a no'sah. If he isn't a no'sah, he's a friend of the no'sahs. And it's time we taught him a lesson."

The doors of the big garage opened, and three vehicles drove out of it. These vehicles seemed to have the rectangular shape of semi-trucks, but the size of garbage trucks. But they were all a dull, silvery grey, featureless, and smooth-looking, as if they were all built in one piece, except along the edges, which seemed to be barred with chrome tubing.

These trucks were made for causing trouble for people who were on the side of the no'sahs. They would go to the locations where the individual no'sah either lived or worked, and do something malicious to him, his living space, his work space, or his vehicle.

Each person had something different done to him. I can't remember what the first bad thing done was. But it involved the vehicle removing a part of its body, like it was just an outer shell, and causing that thing to transform into some means of destruction.

After that, either one or all three of the trucks went to a parking lot that held a few trailer-less semi-trucks. One of the vehicles now took off its "shell" and transformed it. It transformed into something that looked like a second front for one of the semi-trucks.

The shell was a pale silver-grey, and it didn't fit onto the semi-truck very well. It kind of sat diagonally. But this was intentional. The shell was supposed to block the truck driver's view so he would get into a wreck.

The truck driver now appeared. I don't know whether he was aware of the shell. But he drove the truck anyway. He backed his truck out of the parking space. Immediately he noticed troubles with his field of view, and also possibly with the actual ability of the truck to drive.

But the truck driver, clunking and chugging forward, barely seeing anything, decided he'd do the best he could. He drove out onto a street that was so packed with cars it was almost at a standstill. Tall buildings crowded over both sides of the street.

The truck driver was in a tight space, and he could barely see. But he knew these streets well, and he decided he'd just drive by instinct. If he trusted his instincts, based on his memory of the streets, he could get through anything.

And he was doing well. He turned right around of corner and disappeared out of my field of view.

I caught a glimpse of a sign over a shop on the corner of the street. The sign was made out of some kind of turquoise-painted, ridged steel. There were big, white letters on the sign. It gave the name of some bank, I think, Mc-----. I recognized the bank and the sign as being key landmarks for anybody familiar with this town.

I now knew that I was watching a movie. I thought to myself that the film makers had done a good job of giving an idea of what city this truck driver was in. They didn't put too much detail into it: just enough to give people a sense of the place, by using broad, general landmarks.

The movie scene changed, showing the effect of the attacking trucks on another person. The scene showed a female news reporter, speaking to the camera, giving a special report from one of the city's streets.

The view was from the news camera's point of view. But the camera view was really low, like the cameraman was in the street and crouched down really far. The news woman kept walking, sidestepping, along the sidewalk, while addressing the camera.

I knew that the trucks had attacked another man by making him crazy. He was a kind of tall, skinny white guy with frizzy brown hair and a kind of balding forehead. But he had now gone crazy, and he was running through a park (Central Park?) naked, possibly giving his money away.

The news woman was reporting on the man. But, like everybody else, she didn't know anything about why this man had gone crazy. She was just reporting that this man was dangerous. Apparently there was a risk that this man would attack people and take their money.

And now the news woman was interviewing a woman who had been attacked by the man. The woman had apparently agreed to the interview. But now she was just walking as she was talking. She was walking faster than the news woman, like she just wanted to get away from her.

The woman was white, with blonde-brown hair, fair skin, and blue-green eyes. She wore a grey sweater, and she had a green sweater wrapped around her shoulders. She also wore tight blue jeans.

The news woman asked the woman how the crazy man's attack had affected her. The woman replied that the man had taken everything she'd had on her. The news woman asked what this meant for the woman. The woman could only reply, "I'm done. I'm done."

The woman had now gotten far enough away from the news woman that the news woman stopped following her. The news woman had, apparently, stopped walking.

But the camera was no longer focused on her. Instead, it was focused on the window of a Sony store. The window was black, except for a big flat-screen TV that was showing colorful imagery.

The news woman explained that what the woman meant by, "I'm done, I'm done," was that she was completely broke. She had no money left, and she had been unemployed for a long time. She couldn't survive in the city anymore. She'd probably have to go back home.

Dream #4

An older man and his middle-aged son were sitting, apparently, in an airplane. But this airplane was more like a private airplane than a commercial one. The two men sat on a bench-like seat against the wall of the plane. Their backs were to a long but short window.

The son, who was a tiny bit overweight and had a white beard and white hair, was playing with an iPad. The father, who was very skinny, clean shaven, and had his white hair in a short, square haircut, had a bunch of newspapers on his lap.

The father addressed a camera (my view). The father said, "You know, I like the iPad. And it gives me... about... ten percent of my news for the day. But for the rest of my news, I still trust the newspaper more. Why, look at this!"

The father opened up the newspaper and began flipping through it, illustrating how easy it was for him to find the news he was looking for in all the right places. But as he was doing this, the newspaper got more and more jumbled up.

In the meantime, the son, who kept trying to get the father's attention, was scrolling really quickly through all the news, apparently on the New York Times app for the iPad.

The father was now trying to illustrate how easy it was to find something like stuff to buy from a store, or movie times, or stuff to buy out of classified ads. But he was getting really frustrated, because he couldn't actually find anything.

In the meantime, the son had found exactly what the father had been looking for on a website like a mix between the New York Times and Amazon.com. He was scrolling down to the exact thing the father wanted, and clicking on it to buy it.

As the father was getting really frustrated with the newspaper, the son called out something like, "About to buy it, right now!"

The father stopped talking and looked at the iPad. The camera view closed in on the iPad. The son seemed to be looking at a list of books. He tapped on what he wanted.

But the son wanted three of this item. So he had to click on a special word, in a three- or four-line-long list of words. As he did this, he said, "Now, let's see here. What's that process called again? Ah... filchering."

The son clicked on "filchering" and bought three items of the product his father wanted. The father was amazed! That was so fast! The father said, "Why, with that machine, you can buy things so much faster than you can buy things with a newspaper!"

The son, as the father spoke, was just smiling at the father with a weird, open-mouthed, fat-tongued expression, like a panting dog would give its master, not for being good, but for doing something really annoying.

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 watching some kind of documentary or TV show about a man who had some kind of really bad disease. But I was also, somehow, in the scene, helping the man. The man's disease may have been terminal.

The man was really overweight. He had dark olive colored skin. He wore a running cap and a white, long-sleeved shirt. The man and I may have hugged or something like that. The man seemed to be really grateful that I had been helping him.

There was another scene that I'm pretty sure I wasn't in. It was more like watching a TV show. The man was standing outside, embracing a girl with his right arm. The girl was probably the man's daughter. The man and daughter were surrounded by news reporters.

The man mentioned something about his appearance. It looked awkward somehow. This was, the man explained, because he was going through sex-change therapy. The chemicals he was taking were giving him a more "feminine" appearance.

I wondered why the hell this guy was taking chemical sex-change therapy at this time. He was apparently dying from a disease. Plus, he had to take all kinds of chemicals in hopes of getting rid of this disease. Now he was taking chemicals for a sex change? It seemed like too much for his body.

Dream #2

I was in a living room with my brother. We were probably watching TV. I was laying on the floor. My brother sat on the couch.

My brother told me, "Sit up and give me the device."

As if I had no will of my own, I sat up, as if to get my brother the device he'd mentioned. My brother seemed to gloat about this. He knew he had the power to control people's minds and actions.

I told myself my brother wasn't really controlling me, and that I would get him the device, just to show that I liked my brother and I wanted to help him.

The device was up on the top of the entertainment center in which the TV sat. It may have been just to the right of a VCR or a DVD player.

The device was some sort of rocket shaped like a stick. But its propulsion mechanism wasn't an explosive. It was like a clear lens that used some kind of electronic process.

My brother had attached a camcorder to the rocket. He was going to film what the rocket did. The rocket and the camera together looked like a bottle rocket.

The rocket was made only for destructive purposes. I knew that my brother's first use of this rocket was going to be to crash it into the face of some woman on a TV news program.

In my mind's eye I saw the rocket crash into the newswoman's face. The rocket may have lodged itself pretty deeply into the newswoman's head. It had to be pulled out. When the rocket was pulled out, I may have seen a view of the newswoman's mutilated face.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I sat at a picnic bench with a few other people. We all sat under some covering structure, like the shelter for a gas-pump island. But we were apparently at a restaurant.

I told the people at the table that I had the power of mind control. I could will people to do certain things, to carry out whole sequences of actions. The people didn't feel any strain on their minds while I did this. It felt very natural. I apparently used these people to get into places where they could take money. I would then receive this money.

Everybody got up and walked away from the table. Everybody dispersed. But I followed one young man. We walked together out from under the shelter and into an area that looked like a bunch of small auto shops. We then headed out onto a street kind of like a small business section of town.

I told the guy I was now controlling his mind. I may have explained something about this to him.

A weird, small airplane flew overhead, from my right to my left. The plane looked kind of futuristic, but kind of old and dirty. Either I or the young man read the mind of the passenger. The passenger, the young man said, was a beautiful woman who either was or had been a famous movie star. But the woman no longer wanted to be as guarded and watched over as she was nowadays. She wanted to get out and have fun.

We followed the plane with our eyes as it headed to the local airport, which was just at the end of this business street (!). We began walking in the direction of the airport.

I told the young man that the mission I was going to mind-control him to go on would be to meet up with the girl and act like a really fun, easygoing guy. The young man would win the woman's heart that way. She would give him money, and he could bring it to me.

For some reason, we were walking back up under the shelter with the picnic tables. The young man asked me, "What if I just enjoy living with the woman so much that I decide to stay, and I never come back to bring you her money?"

I said, "Good for you, then. Go. And I hope you have a good life."

Dream #2

I walked out onto the sidewalk, probably outside of a big, public building. It was probably autumn, and it was a sunny day, probably with yellow leafs on the ground.

I was in a clean, quiet, probably wealthy town. A tall, Indian man in khaki slacks and a pale, yellow Polo shirt stood out on the sidewalk. The man had a short, old hairstyle, with plenty of gel, and he wore nice, squarish eyeglasses. He seemed to be waiting for a cab.

The man turned away from the curb and got a glimpse of me. He remarked that I was too skinny.

Dream #3

I was in a courtroom. A rich woman, who may once have been a really popular movie star, was on trial for not paying a cabbie. The story went that she had told the cabbie to wait for her at some place like a gas station, and that she would meet him there. But she never showed up.

The woman's argument was that she hadn't told the man she would pay him for his time in waiting, and that he hadn't driven her anywhere in order to get paid. It was the man's choice to wait for her, the woman said. And the wouldn't shouldn't have to pay for the man's choice.

I may have seen the view of the cabbie at the gas station in my mind's eye for a moment. But now my view was in the courtroom. I was on the right side of the room (the right side, as one would face the judge's bench). I was at the back of the room, where the woman and her lawyer sat.

The woman's lawyer was also a woman, though I couldn't get a good view of her. The woman and the lawyer seemed to be seated in front of, rather than behind, a small table. They were both probably in swivel chairs.

The woman looked to be maybe in her early forties. She had tanned skin and dark blonde hair with black or dark brown streaks in it. She wore a dark blue one-piece dress with short
sleeves and a skirt that went to just above the knee. The dress may have had vertical stripes of navy blue and some lighter, though dull, blue.

The woman was reiterating the point that she didn't feel like she needed to pay. She threw her arms up in the air, as if to say, "What's the big deal? I don't care."

I was now on the left side of the room, in one of the back rows, with the cabbie and his lawyer. The cabbie's lawyer was a beautiful woman, half Japanese and half white. She wore a red dress, kind of 1950s or 1960s style, long-sleeved, with a fabric like heavy felt (? - I don't know the names of fabrics). Her hair was frowsy, frizzy, and pale, with chunky, straight bangs.

The cabbie was like a skinny version of Fabio. He had long, blonde-brown hair and a tan, clean, muscular face. He had sparkling eyes and a bright smile, though some of his teeth may plainly have been fake. He wore a sleeveless, flannel shirt unbuttoned at least at the chest.

The judge was explaining something about his opinion of the case. He seemed to be on the side of the cabbie, though not completely. The judge made some joke, and the crowd laughed at it.

But the cabbie didn't speak English. I think he spoke Russian. The lawyer had to translate everything for the cabbie. She'd translated the joke, and the cabbie understood it was a joke -- but not until the judge had already moved on to something else.

The cabbie laughed gently and gave some kind of weird glance to the judge, like he was trying to kiss up to the judge. But the time of the joke had passed. The cabbie laughing at this point made him look kind of like an idiot.

Dream #4

I was in bed, kissing some girl on the crotch of her yellow, cotton panties. At some point, though, the woman turned into my mother.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A view of some area almost like a tarmac, though with no visible airport. A building more like an apartment complex stood off in the distance and to the left. Some structure like the shelter for a train stop was in the foregroung.

On the concrete ground lay four or five people, living or dead, face down. They all seemed to be adult men. They weren't wearing any shirts, and their pants looked like pajama pants. The men were all really skinny and pale.

A military man, a white man in a green, official-looking uniform and a round, hard helmet, stood at the right end of the row of bodies. Two soldiers stood on the left end. The two soldiers may have been holding up another one of these emaciated men. The man probably wasn't old, but his face looked old.

The soldiers let the man go. The leading military man told the man that if he complied, he'd be let go, so that he shouldn't be afraid, and he should just lie down by the rest of the men.

As the man did this, the leading military man may have shot him in the stomach.

A narrator's voice came on saying that during the years of (World War Two?) this was the way of life for many male college students in America. They would be taken to these camps and put through all kinds of torture. They'd be promised freedom, but it would only lead to more torture.

There were now scene of military people driving around on this tarmac-like area in civilian 1970s-style cars. The military people would drive over camp inmates who had been laid down on the road. The inmate's emaciated bodies would generally split right open.

One scene showed how at least the top half of an inmate got caught in the back right wheel-well of one car, or actually got stuck to the wheel itself, so that it was just thudding along with the car.

The narrator's voice said that these camps had all been part of a CIA mind control experiment. Part of the experiment had been to see how much the prisoners could take. But the main part was to see how far they could brainwash the soldiers to do any cruel, or even absurd, thing.

Another scene showed soldiers in some green-walled area that looked partly like an airplane hangar or garage and partly like a 1950s-style diner. A leading military man stood off to the right. A row of prisoners lay on the ground. And two soldiers stood over the prisoners.

Again, the prisoners may have been dead, but I could't tell. The two soldiers were pacing back and forth, pointing vanilla ice cream cones at the prisoners' backs.

The soldiers were acting like they had convinced the prisoners that they were only going to threaten them with the ice cream cones as long as they played along. But they really were going to shoot them. Or the soldiers may possibly have thought they really had guns, while they only had ice cream cones.

Dream #2

I was out with somebody else in a grassy clearing in the wilderness. We were doing something like consulting somebody about getting the person's car fixed. It seemed like this was going to take a while, so I decided to go for a walk.

I walked down a small slope on a dirt path. The path was well maintained and smooth. The soil was a pleasant shade of brown. On either side of me was tall, deeply green grass with some glimmers of orange or tan grass. To my left the land sloped down a bit. To my right, it sloped up a bit. It was late afternoon, and the sky was silvery-blue, getting dim.

For some reason I looked behind me, as if I'd expected to see something. I did. A deer seemed to be peeking its head out from the tall grass. Either I'd startled it or it wanted to cross the path but was waiting until I was no longer looking at it. The deer's head was huge -- like the deer was twice as big as a normal deer.

Either this deer or another deer now walked out onto the path and slightly up the slope. This deer was normal sized. But her coat had traces of green and orange in it, as if to help her blend in with the grass. And she had a huge cone coming out of the back of her head. The cone looked like the rest of the deer's body, but it was as big as a giraffe's neck!

I turned around and continued walking along the path. The slope up to my right was pretty gentle, and I could just see over it. It appeared that there was a road just past the slope. On the other side of the road a group of animals stood just at the edge of a dense stand of trees.

These animals looked at first like deer to me. But they were a bit too big-bodied. I then assumed they must be elk. But their coats were largely white, with cloudings and splotches of red-brown fur.

The slope seemed much steeper now, so that it was much harder for me to see the "elk." It seemed like the elk wanted to cross the street, but that they were afraid to cross while I was around.

I called to the elk in a high, kind of motherly voice, hoping that would make them less afraid. But I then felt that if they felt threatened by my heightened activity, they'd stampede.

I felt like they might stampede anyway, so I was trying to get past this area quickly. But I didn't know how wide this herd was -- herds of elk could be huge, I thought. It was also getting harder for me to walk.

For a moment I thought I would get off the path altogether, go up the slope so I could see how many elk I was dealing with. But the path had become a trench, kind of difficult to get out of. I worried that the elk would stampede and trap me in the trench, trampling me to death.

I thought I had to get out of this trench right away. But now the trench had gotten even deeper, maybe 4 meters deep, with flat-vertical walls. There was no way I could get out. But I thought the narrowness of the trench might now save me: the elk might just jump over.

Dream #3

I was walking through some kind of gigantic warehouse. The warehouse had tons of rooms. The rooms were all huge, like aisles ina big box warehouse, like a Sam's Club. There were shelves, all filled with both boxes and clear, plastic containers. The boxes and containers were all about a meter long and half a meter wide and deep.

I knew that every resident in an apartment complex was being moved out. They were all probably being moved to another specific apartment complex. Each resident (i.e. every person in each household) had been given one cardboard box and one clear plastic container. Everything each individual wanted to take had to fit into his two containers.

For some reason I imagined a litte, Mexican girl and her brother running happily around their house, figuring out what stuff they wanted to take with them.

All the families were now packed up. The boxes were all in the storage area. And at some point all this stuff would be moved to the new apartment complex.

I walked around a bit, looking in through the sides of the clear, plastic containers. I didn't see anything of interest. The boxes and plastic containers had all been set really haphazardly on the shelves. Some of them weren't even set right side up.

Dream #4

A young, blonde boy with slightly tanned skin was in some place like a warehouse or factory. The boy had kind of warped himself here. He had discovered a time machine, which wasn't exactly a time machine, but something more like a dimensional warp machine.

The boy had warped himself into a dimension like earth, concurrent with a different time on earth, but with some different physical laws. But the boy was using the physical laws here to help change things for the better in his own dimension.

But the boy was slightly worried. It seemed like some of the stuff he was doing here to benefit his own dimension was actually hurting this dimension. But, then, he didn't seem to care. He took a kind of troublemaker attitude and revelled in messing things up.

The boy ran around the factory. There were rows of boxes, huge pipes, vats, and other mechanisms. There were also some kind of mechanical pits that the boy would occasionally jump into and out of.

The only effect I could see the boy having on this place was that whenever he acted with "too much energy," he left bright green and bright pink tracers or shadows or silhouettes of himself in the area. Sometimes these tracers were slimy. But these tracers had the effect of tearing through reality. This could destroy both this and the boy's dimensions.

There was then another scene, unrelated to the boy. I don't remember anything about it.

The scene then returned to the factory the boy had been in. The boy was no longer there. He may now have been a man. But the man had gone back to his own dimension. A woman remarked that the man could, however, accidentally be brought back to this dimension, which would be dangerous for him.

The woman, some kind of Xena-like Amazon Queen, now stood in a blue, temple-like room with a man who sort of looked like an evil wizard. The two stood before a wall that had sloping-up shapes in them, like the upward sloping of a huge organ. In the center of this was a round, dark doorway. This was a "time machine."

The woman and the man spoke about how it was good that the humans had decided no longer to use the time machine. As they spoke, the view of them became a view from a television screen.

My view was in a dark living room. It seemed to be backing and backing away from the screen, until it was finally in my body again. I was sitting on the floor, with my back against a couch. The couch may have had a plushy, pale beige fabric. But it may have been covered over with a white sheet.

I was now sitting up on the couch. My old friends R and L were laying together on the top edge of the couch, leaning against the wall against which the couch was set.

L (a woman) commented that she thought it was good that the humans and the people from the other dimension were learning how to cooperate using the time machine technology.

R (a man) said, "No way! If I were the people from the other dimension, I'd act like a Mock (or Lock), like in the book The Time Machine! I'd just act like a beast to that time machine, and bam! bam! break it up!"

As R said "bam! bam!" he slammed his arm down twice on my face. He slammed my nose really hard, leaving it hurt and stinging.

I was about to yell, "What the hell are you doing?" But I calmed down immediately. I knew if I yelled, R would just act like he didn't know why I was so mad.

I turned around to R, who was wrapped up to his face in a white sheet with L. I got right in his face and very calmly said, "I know you meant to do that. You meant to hit me in the face. You meant to be an asshole."

R very calmly looked at me. He said, "You're right. I did mean to do it to you. And you know what? From this day on, I'm just going to be a terrible person to you."

I said, "Oh. Okay." I knew I was living here with R and L. So I figured I'd have to get out of here as soon as possible, hopefully even by the coming day.

I started working through my thoughts, while still looking at R, trying to figure out how I could get rid of everything I didn't need, and how to move everything I needed as efficiently as possible.

I couldn't believe how young R looked, as young as he looked when I first met him, sixteen years ago!