• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. house-sitting; non-consenting sex; snuff film bookstore

      by , 02-07-2012 at 02:47 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      A man who was probably in his late forties was having me house-sit for him. The man was probably rich. He had a pretty big apartment in Manhattan. He seemed gay, and his face looked a little soft and worn out.

      The man showed me around his apartment. The apartment seemed like it could have been in an old building. But it seemed to be in a new building, or at least to be surrounded by a lot of new buildings.

      But even though the apartment was big and nice, it was really messy. There was clutter everywhere. Nothing was organized. Everything was so packed together. It didn't seem like a very comfortable place to live.

      I walked around the apartment with and without the man. The apartment had two halves, like two wide, narrow rectangles. There must have been more rooms. But the rectangles were wide enough already to give the apartment a lot of space.

      At one point I walked through a kitchen. There was a bunch of old garbage in the sink. There was even something that looked like a dead pigeon. It looked all wet and gross, like it was starting to rot. But somehow I determined that the pigeon was a fake pigeon, like a stuffed animal. Since it had never been alive, I thought, it couldn't die and rot.

      A little while later I must have thought I was by myself, even though I didn't think the man had gone on his trip yet. I kept looking out the windows of the apartment. There were windows everywhere. I was worried that people would look in and see me, especially while I was doing something gross, like masturbating.

      I also worried that some of the man's friends would find that I was house-sitting. I worried that the people would look down on me and make it known to me somehow that they disapproved of the man allowing some low person like myself to house-sit for him.

      I may have considered cleaning up the man's house. I may also have considered masturbating. But now the man woke up. I could see him sitting up on a huge but sparse and dishevelled bed in a room full of yellow light. The man and I walked around the house again.

      I was now with my brother. We were in a cafeteria on the first floor of the apartment building -- like the building was a new, enormous apartment building or office building. We were getting some food for the man.

      My brother then got some food for himself, as the man had told him. I'd also been told to get some food. But I didn't really want anything. But rather than have anybody worry about me, I just decided to get something. But whatever it was I got, I knew it was such junk food that the man and my brother would ridicule me for it.

      Dream #2

      A boy, maybe five or six years old, stood before me. His back was to me. He only wore a pair of white underwear. It was planned that the boy and I would have sex. But I didn't want to. I didn't want to get in trouble for having sex with a child, and I didn't want to have sex with a male.

      But the boy was a part of the whole plan. He was going to make me have sex with him The boy began fondling me and then moving up against me.

      The boy was moving his backside so that he was directing me into him. All this time I hoped I'd find my way under his backside and into a vagina, discovering that the boy was actually a girl, so I wouldn't have to be with a boy. But it didn't happen. And, in spite of myself, I was feeling really aroused.

      Dream #3

      I was with my mom and sister in a car. We had gone to some bookstore. The bookstore was the first branch of a very small chain. The second branch was closing down. So we were visiting the original store to see how it was doing.

      But for some reason only my mom went in. It seemed like she was taking a really long time in the store. So I decided to go inside and see what she was doing.

      The store was kind of big, but really dingy. The light was a white, fluorescent light. The floors and shelves were grey and old. The place looked more like an old video store than a bookstore.

      I found myself in some section selling videos. There was a poster of a bunch of grotesque imagery that I thought was scenes out of a horror film. But it turned out to be a poster for the video Faces of Death. It may actually have been for Faces of Death III.

      I now understood that these images were of actual people, dying in really gross ways. Some of the people looked like their bodies and heads were melted. Others were decapitated. Others had gigantic holes gouged through their bodies.

      I looked around me. This section was filled with nothing but snuff films and posters for snuff films. I wasn't terribly grossed out. But I decided to get out of the area.

      I walked up a small staircase to the back half of the store. The place seemed to be empty, except for a few pieces of exercise equipment, which also seemed to be on sale.

      I saw an older, kind of fat man with grey hair, tinted eyeglasses, and a black t-shirt standing somewhere, maybe reflected in a mirror wall. I felt like he would have done something bad to me if I'd gotten close to him. So I turned around and headed out of the store.

      As I exited the store I realized that this place was closing down, just like the second branch had closed down. The whole chain of bookstores must have been going out of business. Everything in the store was on sale for clearance prices -- even the exercise equipment.

      I was then back in the car with my mom and sister. My mom was driving away. We were heading out of a small parking lot and onto a small road that wound in between two tight, forested hills. My mom and I spoke about how the bookstore chain was shutting down.
    2. old boss and old friends; movie director and shower; sister and shower

      by , 12-16-2011 at 02:59 PM
      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.

      Updated 12-16-2011 at 03:10 PM by 37466 (added edit paragraph in dream #1)

    3. dog streets; dark restaurant; light restaurant; mcdonald's

      by , 12-14-2011 at 03:01 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Dream #2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Dream #3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Dream #4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Updated 12-14-2011 at 03:33 PM by 37466 (changed "in through a different restaurant" to "in through a different door")

    4. south america map; eating medals; girls' race; food before hike; no sex in loft; girl's movements

      by , 12-09-2011 at 03:27 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was walking with a couple "friends" through a large area like a mix between a museum and an airport. The floors were grey. There was at least one balcony overhead. The light was a watery-white fluorescent.

      One of my friends was a woman. She going to take a trip somewhere in South America. It was somehow like I had gotten her interested in this trip, or like I had gotten her involved with some organization that had put her on this trip.

      The woman was kind of worried about how the trip was going to turn out. She didn't even know exactly where she was going in South America. But she didn't want to be so far away from the equator that she was always cold, and she didn't want to be in such a small town that there was never anything to do.

      I told the woman that we would look at a map of South America. If she told me enough about the place she was going, I could probably figure out where it was on the map.

      I now saw that the big area we were in had a gigantic map of South America. The map stood upright. It was maybe twenty meters tall. It was shaded to match the land forms and vegetation areas of South America. It may have been three-dimensional as well. On the floor, perpendicular to the map, was a long platform-like base with words on it.

      I pointed through the moderate crowd up toward the map of South America. I could almost imagine myself driving along some of the roads in South America.

      The woman must have been telling me about the place, because I was gettng a distinct impression that she was going to ----- (? - Chile, or Argentina?). I told the woman she didn't have to worry, that she would be going to a very warm place.

      But now we were walking up toward a whole new map. I don't know what happened to the previous map. But we'd never gotten very close to it. But now we were getting up much closer to the second tall map.

      The second map may have been larger than the first map as well. For some reason, I was afraid to be so close. The map was all blue. The ocean surrounding South America was a dark blue. South America was a pale blue or turquoise.

      One city near the northeast end of South America began blinking. But the woman then told me the name of the city where she would be: "Las Ne-----." That city started blinking, just a little to the southwest of the very center of South America.

      I knew that this city was in Brazil. The city was small, and the winters got very cold there. The woman would be miserable. But this is where she'd been assigned to go. And I'd gotten her into this whole thing in the first place! I felt terrible. But I still tried to convince myself that maybe she'd end up liking it.

      I looked over to my friend. She was now TB, a male co-worker from a couple jobs back, who IWL comes from Brazil.

      Dream #2

      I was riding a bike through a suburban park, along a concrete path. It was a sunny day. I was all alone, but I may possibly have felt like I was a part of some race.

      I rode across a lawn, which was flat at first, then rolled down a small slope. As I went down the slope there was a small building about fifty meters ahead of me and off to my left. I headed for another concrete path at the bottom of the slope.

      Closer to the path was a small tree, kind of like a pine tree. But its limbs and branches were rather barren of needles. The branches were also dotted with a strange kind of fruit.

      The meat of the fruit was yellow, but very small. It was dotted with seeds, like a strawberry is. But the seeds had either grown so big or ingested so much of the fruit's meat, that they were huge, taking up more space now than the meat of the fruit did. The seeds were shaped like coffee beans. There were also brownish pine-needles sticking out of the fruit.

      As I got down toward the concrete path, a young woman came biking up the slope toward me. I figured she was gay (a shallow assumption) because she was overweight, wore a boyish t-shirt and khaki shorts, and had a boyish haircut of curly, brown hair.

      I knew that this woman was in a race. I figured it was probably the race I was also in. I didn't seem too concerned about the race, though.

      I was now eating as I was riding. Maybe I was eating something like beef jerky or fruit roll-ups. I remember I was chewing like crazy, almost like a wild, angry animal.

      I pulled a small, narrow paper back out into my field of view. I pulled two small pins out of the bag. They were backed with brass and fronted with some kind of multi-colored, glass or porcelain design. They were medals for races I'd won.

      I may have been stopped and standing or sitting on the lawn by this point. I may possibly have popped one or both of the medals in my mouth, as if I were going to eat them. But I suddenly realized that you don't eat medals. You save them. I was really hungry. But I put the medals back in the bag.

      Dream #3

      I was inside some kind of structure with a lot of people. The structure -- I'm guessing -- was a tent made out of tarp-like material, like you see for big picnics or for large booths during summertime festivals. The walls were all pulled down, though, so that the sunlight coming through them was a dim, dusty amber.

      I was in the midst of the crowd, talking with two little Asian girls. They were maybe five years old. They were good friends. They both had short hair, cut about jaw-length.

      The two girls were now being called away, maybe by one girl's dad, who may have been a tall, kind of skinny, white man. The girls had to go get ready for a running race.

      I now stood in another area. I looked up to my right. There was a doorway in the wall of the tarp. From that doorway, a plastic-boarded running-track was laid out through the center of the structure. It was bordered on either side by some kind of barrier -- maybe a jumble of stretch-tape barriers, steel-gate barriers, and plastic net barriers.

      Everybody milled around on either side of this race track, kind of half-anticipating the start of the race. I may have looked up through the doorway to see the girls. They were in their starting positions, which were actually a few meters outside the doorway.

      I was now back a ways from the track. The race started. Two girls may have run into the structure. But I didn't know one of the girls. The other girl was one of the friends. But she now seemed much younger than the other friend I'd been talking to. And she didn't know how to stay in her own lane. She was veering far to the left.

      The race may have been stopped, due to the lack of focus by its two participants. Or it may have continued, though nobody really cared about it anymore.

      But I wondered what happened to the other girl I'd been talking to. I may have looked (maybe only in my mind's eye) up through the doorway again. I may have come to the conclusion that thing had been so confusing at the start of the race that the girl had tripped and fallen.

      I was sad that the girl had fallen. Everybody knew she was the favorite to win the race. I thought they might even start the race all over again for her sake. But maybe they wouldn't. That might not be fair.

      I then thought that maybe I had caused the girl to fall. Maybe, while I'd been talking to the two little girls, I'd caused the older little girl to become so sexually attracted to me that she was distracted, and so she'd messed up her footing at the beginning of the race.

      Dream #4

      I was sitting in a seating area of a small deli with my friend MG, a Swedish guy I'd worked with on an Americorps program in New York.

      We were going on some hike somewhere. We'd stopped at this deli to pick up some stuff before we left. But then we'd decided to sit here for a while before we really headed off and drove to wherever we were going to start this hike.

      The table we sat at was a small, two-person table. From about waist-height up, there was a mirror running along the wall to my left. Across the narrow dining area from me, some refrigerated food and beverage display cases lined the walls. The floors of the area were brown tile. Farther ahead, behind MG, I could see where this area opened up into the larger store area of the deli.

      Two girls walked down toward, then past, our table. The girls were maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. They were incredibly hot, with blonde hair, tight shorts and soft t-shirts clinging closely to their breasts. It seemed like the girls may have been planning to go hiking, too.

      The girls sat directly behind us. It seemed like they wanted us to talk to them. But I felt like I was too old to hit on eighteen-year-old girls. I'd look like a dirty, old man.

      My backpack (? - don't wear one) was on the table in front of me. It was stuffed so full it almost looked like a green ball. I unzipped it and pulled out a clear, disposable container, like you might see in a deli, holding a single slice of cake.

      The container held a meal or side dish made out of rice and a ton of black beans and black bean sauce. I ate the entire meal, scraping as much of the black bean sauce as I possibly could.

      MG said, "Are you sure you have enough ----- for our hike?" I didn't know whether he meant food or water. So I told him I was fine. I said that after I'd eaten this thing, I wouldn't need anything else for the rest of the day.

      MG said, "Well, I guess some people just have different bodily needs. It's kind of amazing to me. I would never go that long without -----."

      I now wondered whether I hadn't misunderstood MG. I'd just eaten a ton of food, it seemed to me. Why would I need to eat anymore for the rest of the day? MG must have meant that I'd need water. And now that I thought of it, I didn't have any water in my backpack. I would need water.

      I looked over to one of the refrigerated display cases. It was a narrow cabinet with a glass door, holding a bunch of sodas and waters. I saw a few waters, like Poland Spring waters, on the bottom shelf. I figured I'd buy one of those.

      Dream #5

      I was in an apartment with a pretty girl. It was night, and all the lights in the apartment were off. The only light in the apartment was from dim city lights and the light of the moon, which was apparently full and huge, so bright that the rest of the sky was inky black.

      I was apparently house-sitting here. I'd invited the girl over for the night. The apartment was big and nice. But the living room held both the couch and the bed. My viewpoint kept changing between the couch and the bed.

      The girl was over in the shadows of the room, maybe in a corner near the door. She had specifically come here to have sex with me. But now I seemed to be afraid to have sex with her. I may have expressed a fear that I didn't want to be having sex right at the moment when the people I was house-sitting for returned.

      I was now sitting with my back to a window or to a sliding-glass door. But some part of the window must have been open, because a gauzy, billowy curtain kept wafting up around me. I may have been looking off to my right, to a TV set, which was turned off.

      The girl was on the phone, either the apartment's phone or her own cell phone (which may have been an old, silvery, flip-open style phone). The girl was talking to her friend, complaining about all my excuses for not having sex with her. These excuses were mostly about the apartment itself.

      "But," the girl said, "if this place were a loft apartment, where we were the only ones who could get into the entire floor, there'd be no worry about anybody seeing us coming into the apartment."

      (This had, I guess, been one of my worries.)

      The girl now said, "But, wait! Isn't this a loft? This is! This is a loft apartment! We have the whole floor to ourselves!"

      I realized the girl was right. Maybe we could have sex, after all. But suddenly my mind began filling up with a million other reasons why the girl and I couldn't have sex.

      I was now kneeling on the floor, near the corner of a coffee table that stood before the couch. The girl was back to complaining to her friend on the floor about all the excuses I kept giving for not having sex.

      All the time I listened to the girl, and thought of ways to get past all my silly excuses, so that I could have sex, I was staring at a sculpture of a woman's torso.

      The sculpture was nicely shaped. But it seemed to be brittle and plastery. And the skin was a little too orange to look human. The torso was made to look like it wore a black bra and a skinny pair of black panties. I may have been turned on by the panties.

      Dream #6

      I was out in some area, kind of like a parking lot that was being used for a summer festival or fair. There were a decent amount of people milling about.

      A little girl was milling around with her mom and dad, maybe five meters away from me. The mom and dad were standing at a distance, maybe eating some food. The dad was tall and thin, bald, wearing a white polo shirt. The mom was shorter, maybe a little overweight, blonde, with a kind of saggy face.

      The girl was maybe nine years old, blonde, with tan skiny. She wore a summer dress with thick straps and a plaid pattern with a dark pink background and lighter pink criss-crosses. The girl stood in front of some sort of belt-rope barrier.

      The girl began doing dance moves or gymnastics moves, possibly while she was eating an ice cream cone. She lifted her right leg out to her side, then bent over to touch her right arm to her right leg. She then "bounced" off her leg and twirled her torso and arms over to the left. She moved into something like a somersault, then stood and began the move again.

      As the girl did all of this, her limbs formed trails, like in a multiple exposure photograph or film, so that it looked like the girl, as she moved, was forming phantom arms and legs. It was really beautiful.
    5. psychiatrist and asian bands; boy in green

      by , 12-07-2011 at 02:42 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I walked into "my psychiatrist's office," which was actually a house in a suburban neighborhood. I may have walked in through a side door.

      I was in something like a side room or a spare room, not a bedroom, but more like a room with random stuff in it. The room was brown, with cheap plywood-panelling on the walls and a scruffy brown and tan carpet.

      At first I thought I was all alone in the house. I suddenly became aware that I didn't actually have an appointment with my psychiatrist today. I thought that maybe I'd come into her house while she and everybody else in her family was gone.

      But now I heard my psychiatrist talking with a woman. I imagined a woman in maybe her late fifties or early sixties. My psychiatrist was saying goodbye to her.

      I now realized that I hadn't had an appointment with my psychiatrist: I'd cancelled it a while back. Now I was just showing up. My psychiatrist would think I was some kind of crazy stalker.

      But I was here, and I'd only look worse if my psychiatrist saw me while I was attempting to leave. So I went into the office-room of the house.

      The room was in quite a bit of disarray. I might not even have seen my psychiatrist at first. There was a couch running diagonally through the middle of the room, as if it had been pushed away from the wall. There were shelves in various states of dissaray, and piles of stuff on the floor and in an open closet.

      Now I saw my psychiatrist. She was pulling some stuff off a set of shelves. I knew that my psychiatrist had decided that since I'd cancelled my appointment for this day, she'd work on cleaning out her office during this period. She was kind of annoyed to see me here, now that she'd set herself to another task. I was afraid she'd even charge me for a session.

      But my psychiatrist asked my opinion. She had to think of a Christmas present for some young male in her family. The man was maybe a nephew of hers who was in his mid-twenties.

      My psychiatrist had been cleaning out her record collection. To my left there was a wall-width stereo center with shelves filled with records. But my psychiatrist walked to the closet, off to my right. There were even more records in there.

      My psychiatrist pointed to a few records. They were in huge plastic security-cases, like compact discs might be in in a store, before you buy them. The record sleeves had yellow backs, like the Deutsche Grammophone CDs of classical music (? - I think). My psychiatrist asked me if I thought her nephew might like those records.

      I walked over to the records. My psychiatrist told me that if I liked them I could have them. She said they were by some Asian group (possibly a Vietnamese group). She may have told me how she'd gotten them, and that she wasn't sure whether the music was any good. I may have told her that the group was really good.

      I was now watching a music video by the Malaysian pop group A.P.I. I thought I was familiar with the video and the song.

      The video was of three members of the band before a white background. But something like a red curtain would often fall down through the middle of the scene. Sometimes it would fill up the whole scene. The curtain had a fabricky look, and it acted like fabric. But it was transparent, like a piece of thin plastic.

      At one point, one of the band members, fully engulfed in the orange-red light of the curtain, slid into a close-up shot, either as if he were on some moving platform, or as if the camera, on a dolly, slid toward him. Then he gave a smile to the screen and turned away. The view slid back into a far shot of him.

      Dream #2

      I was sitting out on the steps of some building, possibly a school. I was with a few other people, "friends" who I don't recognize now. The steps were shallow, maybe only four or five steps up to the top. They were made of an aging, cheap concrete.

      I sat on one of the lower steps. An older girl or younger woman sat on a short, curb-like edge to my right. Some more people sat up near the top of the steps. Those people may mostly have been young women or older girls.

      Now a little boy ran out the doors at the top of the steps. He saw me and ran to sit by me.

      The boy was maybe nine or ten years old. He was really skinny. He had very fair skin, freckles, and pale green or blue eyes. He had hair in a bowl-like, 1970s-style cut, about down to his shoulders. He wore a big, green sweater and dark, slightly loose blue jeans.

      The boy seemed to like me a lot. He even seemed to be attracted to me. I may have been attracted to him as well. The boy may have tried to cuddle with me. But I may have been reluctant about letting him cuddle with me. I didn't want to get too aroused by the feeling of his body.
    6. hugging sisters and boys in cafe

      by , 11-20-2011 at 03:08 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was standing in a corridor that looked like it had a wheelchair ramp built into it. The wall I faced was a window wall, extending all the way down the corridor. There may have been a hairpin turn along the wall to get to a tiny, glass-walled space before the exit door.

      I probably stood right at the door, inside the building. Outside stood a family. They were all telling me goodbye. The family was white, kind of well-off-looking. There were an older dad, probably a mom, and a bunch of other people.

      There were two little girls in the family, and I may have been attracted to the littler one. She may have been five or six years old.

      I took some chance to hug the little girl. I had a feeling that if I hugged her, we could both share our feelings of attraction for one another in some secret way. I was sure she was attracted to me, too. But I didn't want to get in trouble for showing my feelings.

      Later on I may have been in some cafe. I may have been sitting at a table with a white boy. The table we sat at was against a wall. I sat on one end of the table so that the wall was to my right. The boy sat at the adjacent end, so that he faced the wall.

      He was probably gay. He was tall, kind of pretty. He had his hair shaved really close on the sides and then kind of flowing on top. He wore a grey jacket, and he may have had the collar of the jacket turned up.

      The boy was kind of stuck-up, it seemed to me. I was pretty sure he hated me. I didn't want to bother him. But I was also kind of angry that he acted so stuck-up. I felt threatened, and I wanted to prove somehow that I wasn't threatened.

      I was now back with the family at the door. The older sister was now talking to me. The older sister was maybe ten or eleven years old. She had blonde-brown hair and tan skin. She wore a white skirt and a turquoise tank-top.

      The older sister told me that the little sister had gotten sick or something, so she couldn't hug anybody. So the older sister would have to hug me instead.

      I knew that the older sister was attracted to me. I knew that she thought if she could just get a chance to hug me, she'd make me attracted to her instead of to her little sister.

      I hugged the girl. She wasn't skinny, but her body, around her waist, felt strong. I did feel like I was attracted to her. But I didn't want her family to know. I didn't want to get in trouble.

      I walked out the door with the family. I either held hands with the older sister or managed to do something with her like lift her up onto my shoulders, so she was riding on my shoulders.

      Everybody in the family seemed pretty happy. For some reason, I asked the girl something either like, "If you knew this was the last day of your life, what would you do?" or, "If this were the last day of your life, could you truly say you've died happy?"

      I was now back in the cafe with the tall, white boy. I had apparently asked him some question as well. He was writing something in a notebook. His handwriting was mostly capital letters, very blocky, in something like black, felt-tip pen. But he was also answering me. I had a feeling that he was finally coming around to liking me.

      Then another boy sat across the table from me. He had olive skin and black hair, with his bangs kind of spiked down a bit over his forehead. He wore a brownish sweatshirt. He also seemed to be gay.

      The first boy had at some point gone to open the door of the cafe so that some cool air could flow in. But the second boy sat next to the thermostat. He turned up the heat.

      The first boy asked the second boy if he'd turned up the heat. The second boy said he had. It wasn't clear whether he'd done it because the open door was making him cold or because he wanted to keep the heat at a level that was sure to annoy the first boy.

      The first boy stood up to go close the cafe door, assuming that if he did that, the second boy would turn down the thermostat. But as he stood up, the first boy said to the second boy, "You know, I'm really beginning to despise you."
    7. killer boy on brooklyn bridge; spheres and rainbows in afterlife; fried chicken tranny fashion show

      by , 11-18-2011 at 03:42 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was on the Brooklyn Bridge with my mom and possibly some other members of my family. It was like we were looking down onto the walkway of the bridge, like we were floating over it. The bridge itself looked like it was in bad shape, even like it had been charred in places.

      There was a young, white boy sitting on the footpath, in some weird contraption that seemed actually to have been made out of the footpath.

      The contraption looked like a pipe organ. But there were no pipes. Instead there was some kind of grid of square holes, where the pipes would have been. The holes were all charred, and they may have had broken-off fragments of pipes in them. The rest of the contraption seemed to be made out of wood and metal suspension wires.

      The boy started talking about how he'd taken his wife to the Brooklyn Bridge and murdered her. He'd done something really cruel to her, then he'd cut her throat.

      The boy may have said something about how he thought the Brooklyn Bridge was such a great spot for doing evil things. He may also have said he was planning to do something even more evil on the Bridge.

      I was pretty amazed. I "knew" this boy was only twelve years old. But he'd already been married and murdered his wife. I wondered what the next evil thing was that he could be planning to do.

      I may have wondered whether, since my mom and I were on the bridge, we'd have to do something evil, too. I visualized the suspension cables on the bridge snapping here and there. I may have imagined the bridge collapsing.

      Dream #2

      I was riding in a big vehicle like a van with a big group of people, possibly my family, out onto a bridge. It was like we had just come up out of a tunnel and onto the bridge. We were high over a river like the Hudson River.

      We drove on an outer lane, so I could see the river well. I looked back, to the large city we were driving away from. There were huge, curling billows of smoke, piling higher and higher. The smoke didn't look like clouds: it looked like chains of grey lava, just piling up.

      I felt like this was the smoke from a nuclear bomb. I figured that the smoke buildup was just a precursor to the great flash of light. I wondered why there was no mushroom cloud. But it suddenly occurred to me that the lava-like clouds were building themselves up into a mushroom cloud. Once the cloud was fully formed, the light would flash.

      The cloud formed a stalagmite-like pillar, and then suddenly there was a bright, white flash. It must have had some force to it. I remember hanging halfway out the window, my arm flapping in the air, in bright, white light, and unable to pull myself back into the van.

      The flash dissipated. I was back inside the van. We were still driving. We'd continued driving all this time.

      I was surprised that I didn't feel burnt. The bomb had been blindingly bright, but not hot at all. I figured we must have been too far away to feel the heat. I was afraid that if another bomb dropped, I'd really feel the heat.

      Another bomb must have gone off. There was another huge, bright flash, this time without any smoke. As the bomb's light dissipated, there was a storm of little black spheres, like marbles made out of smoky quartz, and tiny, little, cartoony rainbows. These things flickered in and out, like on a video game.

      These vanished, and we kept driving on. I'd been looking backward all this time. But now I looked forward. I knew another bomb would strike soon. But I was afraid -- more for the heat of the blast than anything else.

      This time the bomb exploded really close to us. There was a huge flash of light, again with no smoke. And again there was a huge flurry of black spheres and tiny rainbows. But the flash of white light didn't dissipate very much at all.

      I felt like everything else had vanished around me. I was pulled up out of the van -- if it still existed -- and was made to fly higher and higher up into the air. As I did, I soared through swarms and swarms of the black spheres and rainbows.

      Eventually the flash dissipated -- but not fully. For a moment I may have seen the river and city below. But then I saw only blue sky and white clouds, like I was flying upward through some sort of cloud level in a video game.

      I began to be able to control my flight through the crowds of black spheres and rainbows, but not really well. I would fly quickly at the spheres and rainbows, hitting them, as if I were "collecting" them.

      At some point I realized that this must be the afterlife. I'd become a spirit, and now I was operating on some kind of spirit level.

      This struck my "reasonable" side (if you can't tell, even IWL, I don't have much of a "reasonable" side) as odd. I remembered a dream I'd had, as a kid, about dying in a nuclear bomb blast. In that dream, my spirit had drifted up through a tunnel darkness and clouds, up to a big, full moon.

      I thought that had been the correct version of the afterlife. So, I thought, this version would probably change into that version at some point.

      I told myelf to remain calm and stable and keep flying around in the black spheres and rainbows. Eventually, I figured, this vision would fade into a vision of me drifting up into the moon.

      Dream #3

      I was in some kind of room with a few other people. I may have known a few of them, and one of them may have been my mother. It felt like there were a lot of us. But the room was pretty big, and we all had our own space.

      The room looked kind of like a bedroom. There was a huge line of bunk beds, maybe enough beds for eight or so people. Then there was a concrete floor. Off to the right of the beds, there was a space with a cluttered grouping of plastic chairs.

      Across the floor from the beds was a big piece of furniture, like a huge dresser. It was about waist-high, and there was a TV on top. Behind the TV there was a little ledge, and then some more space, like a little cubby hole with more bed-like mattresses.

      People sat on the beds and in the chairs. It was almost like we were all watching TV. But we were really hanging out, waiting for some people to get us for some reason or another.

      Some of us may have been eating fried chicken. Others may have been eating wraps, like the hot wraps at Pret-a-Manger. I may have been eating a wrap that had fried chicken inside of it.

      For some reason I put on a pair of white, satiny panties, and a white, satiny or lacy bra. I started walking around like this in front of everybody. I was partly ashamed of myself for doing this, being a guy and walking around in lingerie. But I also felt like I was part of some fashion show.

      I went back to my space on the bunk beds, the mattresses of which were folded up, like futons, to appear like couches. I was looking for my regular clothes. I may have found them. I was really eager to change back into them.

      But now it really like there was a fashion show. Some other guy walked around in front of everybody in lingerie. I just watched. I don't think I changed out of the lingerie I was wearing.

      A little boy was supposed to go next. The boy was maybe five years old. He ran away from his dad, who may have been trying to get the boy ready for the fashion show. The boy stood at the other end of the room, eating a hot wrap. He may have only been wearing Underoos underwear.

      I realized the dad had been trying to put the boy into lingerie. But the boy didn't want to wear women's lingerie. He wanted to be a boy, not a girl.

      I didn't think it was fair for the boy to have to wear lingerie if he didn't want to. But I realized that it was kind of my fault. I'd started this whole weird "fashion show" thing by walking around in lingerie. Now it was even affecting the little boys.

      Updated 11-18-2011 at 03:50 PM by 37466 (changed "clouds and clouds" to "swarms and swarms")

    8. girl is trouble; diapers; victoria's secret; old man; grandpa and grandmas; canal city; helping rudy

      by , 11-17-2011 at 03:29 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I stood out on some covered concrete area, like between the entrances to two buildings that were a part of the same apartment complex. It was a grey day.

      I stood out with a young girl who IWL lives in my apartment complex. We may have just come out from a set of sliding glass doors. Now the girl stood with her back against a concrete pillar.

      The girl told me she wasn't really allowed to talk to adults anymore. She'd gotten involved with some adult woman who worked as something like an undercover agent for the FBI But the woman had fallen in love with the girl and gotten herself in trouble through distraction.

      I saw in my mind's eye that the FBI woman was Latina, a bit overweight, wearing black jeans and a black and red jacket.

      So now the girl's dad told the girl that she was no longer allowed to talk to adults. But I figured I could probably talk to the girl anyway. I wasn't planning on falling in love with her.

      Dream #2

      I was in a living room with a man, probably my brother-in-law, and two of my nephews, who were both babies. My brother-in-law had one of his kids slung up onto his shoulders, and he was saying something like, "Time for a diaper change!"

      My brother-in-law walked out with that nephew of mine. The other nephew was still there. I now noticed that he was wearing only a diaper, which was really soggy. I thought my nephew looked a little too old to be wearing diapers.

      My nephew jumped off the couch and cried, "Diapers are fun!" He then started crawling around in a skinny space between the coffee table and the TV.

      Dream #3

      I was at Victoria's Secret, for some reason, getting rung up for something. The items may have been lingerie, or they may have been the black slacks and jackets the Victoria's Secret workers wear.

      Dream #4

      I was at the end of some area that looked like a huge tunnel. The tunnel was lit up well and had peach-colored walls. It seemed like the area was used for something like a shopping plaza.

      I was crouched down at the mouth of the tunnel, possibly with my back to some wooden barricades or police tape. Somebody may have come up behind me and annoyed me. I may have told him to get lost. Another person may have asked me for help with something. I may have given him directions.

      Another man now approached me. He was an older, black man. He'd asked me if I'd given the other man advice about how to set up a shop in this area. I said I had. The man seemed to be mad at me. I knew people didn't like it when other people started working here. But the man didn't act too mad.

      The man and I may then have stood near his own shop, which was something like a soup shop, set up in a little, wooden shack.

      I was walking away. But I was now out on some plaza-like area like between buildings on a college campus. The blue moonlight shone down on the plaza.

      The man now came up behind me. He was fatter than he'd been before, and he was wearing a nice, orange shirt and tweed jacket But he was now, apparently, a homeless person with no money. He asked me if I could give him some money. So I gave him some change.

      Suddenly there were a whole bunch of old, fat guys pressing up against me, asking me for change. But I didn't have any more change. In fact, I didn't have any more money! I tried to tell the guys this. But they were all mad at me. They told me they'd get me soon.

      I was now in some weird space like a house with a huge window looking out over a backyard area. But the backyard area, as the dim, grey morning light revealed it, was actually a huge area of rolling, grassy hills, small, brambly, tangled trees, and shallow, muddy ponds. Up to the right was a tall hill that towered over everything else.

      I may have been out earlier in this area. I may have thrown the man over my shoulder and into one of the shallow, muddy ponds. While I had been standing over the pond, I'd heard my old friend R suggest that I just go ahead and kill the man.

      I thought there was no way I could kill another person. I wouldn't like to do it, and I could never get away with it. But R told me that I should murder the man. He even had a place where I could bury the body.

      I was now crouched down before a different hill, but in the same kind of landscape. I heard Camille Paglia and my friend R talking about how all people are at all different stages of mental development.

      Paglia said that people who like a certain poet (or listen to a certain style of music?) are of an "older stage" of mental development, like from Edmund Spenser's time. They aren't as developed, Paglia said, as people with modern minds.

      I now either saw or stood near the top of the hill. There was one large spot, maybe ten meters across, where the ground was extremely soft and slimy under the grass, compared to the rest of the rather firm, muddy soil. I knew this without touching or stepping into the spot.

      Dream #4

      I sat on my knees before a coffee table in a living room. I was all by myself. But suddenly my grandpa and my step-grandma walked in the front door.

      I was surprised to see my grandpa: he'd passed away a few years back. But I figured that my step-grandma had done something to make it so my grandpa could come back for a while.

      I was also surprised by my grandpa's hair, which was tight and curly. He also had thick sideburns, like lamb's wool.

      My step-grandma and grandpa sat down on a couch behind me. I continued to sit facing the coffee table, with my back to the couch. My great grandma may also have come in at some point, sitting in a chair to the left side of the couch.

      My step-grandma told me to remain calm about everything, and just to perceive my grandpa being here, without any questions or worries. Getting too worked up would make my grandpa disappear.

      I turned my head slowly back and tried to look at my grandpa. But now he looked really weird. I thought at the time that he was back to looking like he did before he died of cancer. But he actually looked a lot different. His eyes were huge, almost popping out of his head. And something about his face was almost plasticky.

      I looked away. I thought, If my imagination made my grandpa look like that, then I can imagine him a different way. I'll imagine him when he was young and healthy.

      But I was now in a room with my grandma, my grandpa's first wife. My grandma was talking to me about me and my little cousin A, and how the two of us are so special to her.

      As my grandma spoke to me, she was playing with two or three cylndrical, but rough, pieces of wood, each about 20cm long and 5cm in diameter. My vision was really focused on these pieces of wood.

      One or two of the pieces formed a man's body. The third had a smaller tab at its base, which was supposed to fit into a notch at the mid-point of the man. I thought that my grandma was trying to fit this third piece of wood onto the man as if it were his phallus.

      Dream #6

      It was early morning, with a clear, blue sky. I was drifting in, along a river, in toward a city, on a small, wooden boat. The river was big, but I was calling it a canal. I knew the city I was drifting in toward was something like a canal city, like Venice. But I may have also thought of it as a university town, like Oxford.

      I now drifted up toward the buildings at the edge of the river. The buildings were all massive, beautiful, and made of red brick. The rising sun was just hitting the tops of the buildings, setting them in gold light, against the blue-grey shade.

      I knew that a young man would be by soon to come pick me up. He was going to take me to a library, where I would spend some time studying. But I knew the young man was kind of resentful of me, and that he was reluctant even to come pick me up.

      I passed toward or under some tallish, stone arch. I thought that it was still early in the morning. So maybe before I went to the library I could pick up a cup of coffee. I was sure there would be a Starbucks somewhere. I may have been thinking of this place as like the Financial District in New York!

      I was now with the man in the library. We were in some kind of central spot. The place was massive, with heavy, wood walls. There was a wide balcony formed in a sqaure, looking down to the floors below. There was a staircase just ahead.

      I knew the next level down was a quiet area. I may have heard a thin, grey-haired woman with glasses telling me, as if I were already down there, that there was no activity allowed in that area except for quiet study. It sounded perfect to me.

      Dream #7

      I was walking in the parking lot of a huge shopping center. It was a grey day. I walked past a McDonald's, with the lane for the drive-thru to my left.

      Two white girls and a really short black boy came walking up toward me. The boy purposely got in my way, cornering me against the little curb separating the drive-thru lane from the rest of the parking lot.

      I twisted my body so I wouldn't hit the little boy. I'd had to move fast -- it seemed like the boy was almost lunging at me. I lost my balance and stumbled into the drive-thru lane.

      I looked back at the boy. It seemed like he was pretty amused at himself for what he'd done. People of all ages had done that to me before, and given the same amused look. But I decided this time I wasn't going to let the person get away with it.

      So I walked all the way around the McDonald's building, so I could wind up behind the boy and girls. I snuck up on them and pulled the little boy toward me by the back of his shirt.

      I thought I was really going to tell the boy off! But I said, "Hey, man, any time you need any help, any time you need me to do anything for you, just let me know, okay?"

      Updated 11-17-2011 at 03:36 PM by 37466

    9. giving friend murder weapons; diaper girls in bed

      by , 11-06-2011 at 03:42 PM
      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.
    10. shaw's last lecture; porn boyfriend break-in; cousin memories; museum membership

      by , 10-26-2011 at 02:26 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was out on a stage, just a little bit to the right (my right) of the stage. Back and to my left, the playwright George Bernard Shaw lay in a hospital bed. He was really sick, but he was giving a lecture. I was here either to introduce him or kind of interview him. His voice was really faint and weak.

      Now I was leaving the theatre through some backstage area and a backstage door. I was walking through some kind of brick-walled alley. It was daytime.

      Suddenly I realized or heard that Shaw was about to die. He knew he was going to die. He had announced that his next lecture would be his last. But that lecture would be today. In fact, it was starting right now! And I had left the theatre!

      I had to see Shaw's last lecture. He was my favorite playwright. And I had the feeling Shaw would die immediately or soon after he got off stage. So I had to be there.

      I ran back in the door, through the backstage area, and through a small door that led directly onto the stage. The show had just started. A woman had introduced Shaw. Shaw now sat in a nice chair on a green rug. A nice table with a lamp may have stood near the chair. Shaw had just started giving a little speech.

      I at first wanted to sit near Shaw on the stage. But since I came in late I didn't feel I deserved to. So I sat off to the right of the stage. In the shadows were some bleachers, which were pretty well filled with people. I sat on the floor on the bleachers, where I thought I would be in view of Shaw, so he'd at least know I'd attended.

      The woman asked Shaw some question about religion. Shaw responded a little ramblingly. He then said, "And, yes, I've been in a coven. I've headed a coven."

      A little, black boy in a black hooded sweatshirt with thin, widely-spaced, white stripes and sitting in a wooden chair a couple meters to the right of and behind the woman raised his hand.

      Shaw pointed to the boy, as if to take his question. He said, "Yes, you. And what's your name, little boy?"

      The boy stood up. His face couldn't be seen. He may have been turned around, or he may have had his hoodie on backwards, with the hood pulled up over his face. He said, "Some people call me Lazarus. But you can think of me as Nicodemus."

      The boy may have started knocking himself on the top of his head with his right fist.

      Dream #2

      I was in some room like a school cafeteria. The floors and walls were all white, and there may have been a set of white folding chairs all arranged in a grid, like for a meeting.

      But whatever had been going on here was finished, and everybody was leaving. Apparently we'd had a meeting regarding the production of some movie. It wasn't certain the movie was going to be made. But people were feeling a lot more confident that it would.

      The leaders of the effort all stood up front, near some long folding tables. There were a few long, plastic coolers. The leaders were kind of clowning around with each other while they packed up their supplies for the day. The leaders all looked South Asian. One of the leaders looked like the Malaysian singer MonoLoQue.

      The leaders may actually have been making up some wacky, funny song based on the song they thought would be the theme song for the movie. I tried to join in, but I don't think I was very funny. The leaders were patient with me. But I got the feeling they thought I was being too much of a groupie. So I decided to leave.

      I walked down a stairwell in the center of the floor. But as I got halfway down I realized I'd forgotten something upstairs. I ran back up to get it. But I didn't really know what I was doing upstairs and I didn't want the leaders to see me again. So I went back down the stairwell.

      About halfway down the stairwell, I realized I had to go back to my apartment before I went anywhere. But my apartment was right near the stairwell. In fact, just in front of the stairwell, right where I stood, was a window to my room. (Off to my left may have been some area like a department store.)

      So I swung myself up and bashed through a wooden panel blocking the window to my bedroom. Right before I'd done this I'd seen a tallish, kind of overweight, white man in a red t-shirt and blue jeans walking along some balcony between flights of steps behind me, as if I were now in some kind of apartment building's stairwell.

      I broke through my window and rolled onto my bed, then onto the floor. The window seemed to have been open. But I noticed that I'd broken the board, a white-painted board about 33cm high and 1 meter wide, in half.

      As I landed on the floor, I heard a woman in the living room go get the door. Oh, I thought to myself, that woman must be my new roommate.

      The woman opened the door to the man I'd seen in the stairwell. (I don't know how I knew this, since I didn't see it.) As soon as the woman let the man into the apartment, she yelled, "No! I'm not doing it! I told you I didn't want to be a part of it anymore and I didn't want to see you anymore!"

      I thought I should go out into the living room and defend my new roommate. But I was afraid. So I just sat and listened.

      The man had apparently been trying to get the woman to be in a movie for a production house he'd just started up. But already the production house was having trouble with censors. The man said, "And this is a movie that, just because you got a few people saying certain cuss words, people wanna make it rated X!"

      But the woman had left the man just because he had kept putting her in porn movies. She was yelling at him that she could tell he was getting started going down the same old path, and that she didn't want to be a part of it again. She seemed either to be walking the man to the door or heading out with him.

      I sat on my bed and looked at the broken board in my hands. It sounded quiet. Maybe the man was gone, I thought, and I could go introduce myself to the woman. But I was wondering what kind of first impression I'd make with her, suddenly having appeared in my bedroom, and having broken the board on my window. The woman might think I was crazy!

      Dream #3

      I was sitting in a car with a woman who looked exactly like my mom but was something more like an interviewer or psychiatrist. I sat on the passenger side, and the woman sat on the driver's side. It was daytime. We were parked at the far end of a long driveway in front of a house.

      I told the woman, "About the time that my cousin and I were trying to figure out what to do for college --"

      The woman interrupted me. "What do you mean? I thought that before, you'd said that your cousin didn't start college until a couple years after you did. How could he be going to college at the same time as you? It doesn't make sense!"

      I said, "That's not what I mean. What I said just now was --"

      Suddenly something happened, and I knew I had to leave the car and get going somewhere else. My car door had been open all this time. I stood up and walked off to my right. I walked along a stretch of dirt on the shoulder of a road.

      As I approached a fence, an adult woman came walking toward, then past me with a bunch of little girls. It was like a school group. Most of the girls were five years old or younger. They were all wearing diapers: some only diapers, some diapers with dresses over them. I was sexually attracted to these little girls.

      But there was one little girl, an Asian girl who seemed to be maybe seven or eight years old. She had jaw-length, black hair and was wearing a white dress with thin fabric. It appeared that this girl was also wearing a diaper, though I couldn't tell for sure. I was extremely attracted to this girl.

      I passed the fence, and one more adult woman walked along past me, following one last little girl wearing only a diaper. But for some reason, I found myself so sexually attracted to the little Asian girl that I felt like I had to follow her, at least to find out if she really was wearing diapers.

      I turned around and headed for the little girls, none of whom I could see now. I knew if I caught up with them and started trying to get close to the little Asian girl I'd certainly be singled out as a pervert. So I was trying to think up excuses for heading back and being near the girls.

      I thought that the little girls must have been going to the car to see the woman. Now I was in the car with the woman. She started up the car as I started talking to her. We pulled out of the driveway and drove away.

      I told the woman, "You see, my cousin and I were in the same year of school. And we were best friends. So when we got into our Junior year, we both started thinking together about what colleges we'd go to."

      The woman had turned right around a corner and was now driving through an alley going past the backyards of houses.

      I continued. "But my cousin ended up getting sidetracked. So he didn't go to school right away. He had a terrible childhood! I'd go over there all the time to see him."

      The woman now turned right and pulled into the driveway in the backyard of some house like my great grandma's old house.

      I continued, "My cousin would be grounded for, like, six months at a time! And he'd just have to sit in his bedroom in the basement for the whole time. Sometimes he'd even have to write thousands of sentences."

      I had to leave again. I opened the car door. There were some little girls walking around in diapers in the driveway. I was kind of attracted to them.

      As I stood up and turned right, to walk away past the back of the car, I saw that my sister was leaning against the car, almost right in the doorway! She said, "Hey," in a kind of guyish voice.

      I hoped my sister hadn't seen me ogling the little girls. But I looked at my sister. She was skinny, in shape, and she wore a blue-sleeved, white t-shirt that really showed off her boobs. I suddenly realized my sister was really attractive!

      Dream #4

      I walked into a museum with my mom. The lobby was dim and narrow. The ticket counter was some kind of polished, black stone.

      We walked up to the ticket person. I was a member at the museum, and the ticket person knew me. But he might not have seen me. My mom handed the man my membership card and said something like, "He's a member."

      The man said, "Great," and was about to print a ticket for my mom.

      But my mom said, "I'd like three people, and also two children, please."

      The man seemed a bit taken aback by my mom asking for so many tickets. I was taken aback, too! I thought I was coming to the museum with just my mom. Who were all these other people coming with us?

      I said something to the man. He finally noticed me. He said, "Oh! But you're a member *here*. Why are you trying to get in with this card? This is a MoMA card."

      I saw the card in the man's hand and realized he was right. Hoping to avoid him getting suspicious of me -- like he might have thought I was trying to hide the fact that I'd let my membership expire -- I flipped quickly through my wallet, trying to find the right membership card.
    11. wrong trains and father; boy, girl, and power plant; lingerie shop and poem

      by , 08-22-2011 at 01:48 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was at a train station at night. I might have been with one other person. Otherwise, the place was empty. The station was like a short, long, covered platform with fluorescent lights, with another platform, which was uncovered and completely dark. It kind of felt like I was in the middle of nowhere.

      One train came on the tracks at the covered platform. I noticed either that it was the wrong train or that it was going in the wrong direction. It was like these trains were running on subway lines, even though I wasn't familiar with these lines.

      There might have been two different lines at this station. Both the lines had "Queens" as one of their final destinations. One of the lines had a town that sounded like "Cambridgeshire" (???) as the second of its final destinations.

      I was looking for a train heading away from Queens. Another train was arriving, this time at the uncovered tracks. I was pretty sure it was heading away from Queens, so I thought it might be the right train. I walked over to the train.

      The train was very tall, with the actual car maybe one and a half meters off the ground. The inside of the train was totally dark. The train was about to pull away. I got the impression that this was the wrong train. To double check, right before the train pulled away, I jumped up twice into the air, flashing a "sign" (basically, my hands were both lifted up and spread out, as if I were trying to give someone two high-fives) into the train.

      I knew now that this was the wrong train. The train may have started to pull away. I realized some person in control of some kind of rail operations had seen me flash the signs into the train. I wondered if he would think I was trying to cause some trouble, or that I had thrown something dangerous onto the train.

      I walked away from the platform. I may have been hoping to find my friend and stick to him, so that nobody would think I was dangerous.

      I was now with my brother and sister in a kitchen. The kitchen was probably really dim, which may have made it feel really small and crowded. We were gathered around a smallish, round, fake-wood table. One or two of us may have been standing. The other/s was/were standing.

      One of us, possibly my sister, may have mentioned something bad about the way my dad had been treating us. Later, somehow, I saw my dad. He was talking to me or to everybody. But he couldn't remember my name. It was simply like he hadn't had anything to do with me for so long that he couldn't remember my name. He may have apologized for this fact. I may have told him it was okay.

      Later, my dad was changing diapers. He may have been changing my diapers, although I seemed to be at least partly separated from the person changed, and the person being changed probably did seem like a small baby. The diaper was a small diaper, for a really litttle baby. It was full of urine, and it smelled horrible.

      My dad may have been balling up this diaper. He may now actually have been complaining, as if his inability to remember my name were an actual shortcoming of my own.

      Dream #2

      I was out on a sunny balcony. The floor was probably concrete. The barrier and the apartment wall may have been bright white. I may have been sitting at something like a school desk, looking out and across to another huge building.

      There was a black man behind me. He was a schoolteacher. Apparently I had been studying the subject he taught, all on my own. He was very impressed by the amount of independent interest I'd shown in his subject. He gave me some words of encouragement, then said he was going to teach his class now.

      There was apparently a window to my left. I heard it open. I knew that the teacher's classroom was actually the room with the window. I looked in through the screen as the teacher began his lesson. He had erased something off a chalkboard and then written a long, kind of complex equation on the board. Somehow he made it very easy to understand, very simple.

      I realized the teacher had been giving the lecture for me. So I decided to at least go in and listen, to show him I was thankful that he'd thought of me. I walked into the building.
      Before the classroom there was a small alcove. I had left "my backpack" in this alcove. My textbook (as if I were actually in the teacher's class now) was in my backpack. As I went to get it, I passed the doorway into the classroom. I saw that everybody in the classroom was sitting in very small chairs, possibly with no desks.

      The teacher began to criticize everybody for some kind of sloppy aspect of their work. It may have had something to do with not bringing either their work or their textbooks to class. I felt like this criticism was largely directed at me. But I felt like at least today I couldn't be criticized for not bringing my book to class.

      I opened my backpack and pulled my book out. It was jammed into my backpack, amid a whole bunch of loose papers, possibly with equations all over them.

      I was now out on a street in the suburbs. I was trying to get somewhere on time. I had probably left class at an awkward time specifically so I could get to this other place on time. I was walking along a street which may have felt like it was along some kind of ridge, looking down to an expanse of blocks of houses. The sky was dim, smoky grey, almost dirty-coppery.

      I felt drops of rain. I thought I should head back home (?) to get either a raincoat or an umbrella. I actually turned back and walked a few steps "toward home." But I decided that since I was wearing a red, waterproof jacket, I didn't need either a raincoat or umbrella. I turned back in the direction of my destination.

      I now felt a lot of rain. I turned back again, thinking I really should go back home for something. But I turned right back around, toward my destination. I figured if I hurried I could make it without getting extremely wet.

      At the same time I heard a group of young boys, maybe ten or so years old, rough-housing with each other. One of the boys, a kind of shaggy-haired, blonde boy with gold-tan skin and wearing a baggy, green, plaid, flannel shirt and baggy jeans, recognized me. He shouted out to me in his rough-housing voice.

      I kept walking, as if I didn't hear the boy. I knew I had promised before that I would play with him. But I couldn't do it now. I had to get to my destination. If the boy were to think I'd heard him, he'd follow me. And I didn't want him to follow me, either. I thought he'd get bored. I walked faster away.

      But the boy kept following me. He called after me. I was walking fast, almost running, along a grass ridge looking down to the blocks of houses in the valley. Finally I said to the boy, "Fine. You can come along -- if you can follow me!"

      I started running down a street on a slope. But I was running in something like a crawling position. But the crawling was very fast and low, almost like the height and speed of Luke Skywalker's flying car in Star Wars. (Although, on waking, I'd thought that my running position had been something like that of a scorpion.)

      It was raining a lot by now. I "ran" down a steeply sloped street and then down a gently sloped street. I sped through a few more streets, zigzagging around corners. But the boy was still behind me.

      I was now probably approaching my destination. I was in an area that felt like it was indoors, even though it probably was outdoors. The sky (if it was a sky) was dark.

      I ran past a power plant, which was a huge area, full of shiny, silvery metal pipes, all tightly banded together, and weird, beaker-shaped structures maybe three meters tall, also made out of the silvery metal, but with some kind of blue circles on them, possibly on their bases.

      It was like I was "running" on a path or aisle space around this power plant. The power plant was on my left. As I turned a corner to my left, a grocery store chain's warehouse stood on the right side of the path. It was possibly for a Kroger's, King Sooper's, or Safeway chain.

      I ran around another left corner, but I found that the grocery warehouse building was going to merge with the power plant. It did, and as I rounded another corner, I found myself in a culdesac made out of the structures of the power plant and the walls of the grocery warehouse.

      I turned around. The boy hadn't gotten around this last corner, but he wasn't far behind. I ran into him at some kind of stairway or something. We were definitely indoors now.

      I looked to my right and saw, a ways away, a few women beyond a door and in something like a library. The women were all maybe in their mid or late twenties. They were all really pretty, with really nice bodies, and they were all dressed professionally.

      I "remembered" that I had just come from that library. I had had to take a subway home from there, possibly with a group of kids I had volunteered to supervise. We'd taken a cicrcuitous route, and we'd needed to change trains at least once. After all that trouble, I "remembered," we'd only gotten to this place. But this place was a very short walk from where we'd started! I kind of thought that sometimes the train was more trouble than it was worth.

      But as the boy and I walked through a set of swinging doors (like doors going into the back area of a grocery store, like a meat area), I looked back over to the girls in the library. I felt like if I kept looking at them long enough, while they were unaware of me, I'd catch some of them starting to make out with each other. I was pretty sure they were all gay, but that they were just hiding it from me.

      The boy and I were now in a small, foyer-like area. To my left, the area seemed to fade off into something like an outdoor area with a maze of metal staircases. To my right was another set of doors, hard double-doors like the entrance to the school. Before me was a window wall. It was night outside and dark in this foyer-like space.

      The boy was now a girl. She was a freshman in high school, and I was a senior in college. But this girl still liked me. And I probably liked her. There was another girl with us. She was probably my age.

      I left the situation. The older girl told the younger girl that if she liked me she should just go with it. She should tell me she liked me.

      There was now a view of the girl's family. The oldest son of the family was in a coma. The mother was watching over him. The son seemed to be laid out on a bed-like table in a room that kind of looked like a bedroom in a suburban house.

      Now the scene had changed. The woman was still watching over the oldest son. But the mother was now with another woman, or possibly another two women her age. None of the women may have been wearing pants.

      The mother told the other women, "My daughter told me, 'I don't care what you think! I'm just gonna live my life and love who I wanna love!'" The mother was saying this in a bragging tone, as if she were proud of her daughter standing up for herself and going out with an older boy.

      The mother walked away from the group, still talking about some of the things her daughter had said. The mother's panties were loose, and I saw something jutting out from the back of the crotch, like a maxi pad or a diaper.

      I was now standing out on some sidewalk, possibly in a space like out in front of an airport. It was morning. The sun was up, but it wasn't over the buildings, so there were little shafts of gold light and big pools of grey-blue shadow. It may have been cold outside.

      I was out on the sidewalk with a young man who probably looked a lot like Lance Loud from the reality show An American Family. The young man was in something like the situation the girl had been in. Except now the situation was that the young man was gay. He'd told his mother, but she didn't approve. They'd gotten into an argument and hadn't spoken with each other in a while.

      But now the oldest son had woken out of his coma and was coming with his mother to meet the young man. The car pulled up to the curb. The oldest son, who kind of looked like a young Andy Warhol in terrible, sixties-style clothes, got out of the car and greeted the young man.

      The oldest son said, "What's the deal man? I know you need to express yourself. But think of how I did it! Do it with a little more sense and tact."

      The oldest son himself was apparently gay. He had, however, broken the news to his mother with a lot better results.

      The oldest son then asked the young man, "By the way, do you have any cash I might be able to borrow?"

      The oldest son and the young man walked down a few cars, to an old, seventies-style cadillac which had just pulled up. It was a drug dealer's car. The oldest son and the young man were apparently going to shoot up on heroin right there, in front of everybody. The young man even had one of his sleeves rolled up!

      The three of us were now in some trash-strewn area at the base of columns for a bridge. We were all sitting in furniture, like a whole living froom set had been laid out in this trash-strewn area. We were all waiting for some guy, possibly someone like a drug dealer, or someone to gived us money for drugs.

      As we waited, the oldest son turned on a song by Elliott Smith, probably from his album Figure 8. I thought I knew the song. But I was only getting half the words. I wondered to myself if the oldest son liked Elliott Smith because he kind of sounded like Lance Loud. Lance Loud was something of a gay icon. So if Elliott Smith sounded like Lance Loud, maybe gay males sympathized with him. (WTF???)

      The next song to play was a Beatles song. It was to the tune of "This Boy," but it had something to do with the words "Sweet Girl" or "Sweet Angel." I managed to half-sing along with this song as well.

      I began to wonder if the young man was getting jealous of me. I knew all the songs the oldest son was playing. I seemed to be showing off that fact. Would the oldest son think I knew a lot, and would he fall in love with me? Was I taking the oldest son's love away from the young man? I may have stoppedd singing at this point, so it wouldn't look like I was singing to impress the oldest son.

      Dream #3

      I walked into a narrow-looking shop on a narrow, stage-like street of wood-fronted buildings. The store was something like a Victoria's Secret. It was getting close to closing time. There were three girls working at the shop, all talking with each other. None of them seemed too worried about my presence.

      I looked around the shop. There were all kinds of panties for little girls. There was apparently lingerie somewhere as well. For some reason I thought I'd try on some of the lingerie. I thought I'd buy some of the little girl panties and wear them while I tried on the lingerie. I thought I'd ask the women working at the store if they were okay with this. (WTF?)

      But the girls were still talking and joking with each other, apparently getting ready to close the shop for the night. And I still couldn't find the lingerie.

      I climbed up on top of one table and then scaled up a bunch of wall-mounted racks. High up in a rack I found more little girl's panties. One pair was pink, satiny, skinny-looking panties. Another pair was like satiny boy-short panties. They were mostly pink, with some blue on the hips. They also had some design like a weird, almost tribal-looking, but cartoony, butterfly on them.

      I mayy eventually have spoken with one of the girls.