• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. driving with mitt romney

      by , 02-13-2012 at 01:13 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in the back seat, passenger side of a car, riding through a town with Mitt Romney. Romney was in the front seat, on the passenger side. I didn't see who the driver was. The day had a strongly yellow light to it. The area we drove through seemed to be a downtown area, with lots of tall buildings.

      Romney and I were talking back and forth. But suddenly I saw something in between the two seats. It was like a little stand-up paper display that are place on tables in restaurants to advertise specials or desserts. This one had three sides. It was colored a dull, brownish copper.

      Instead of advertising food, though, this thing seemed to be a political pamphlet. I couldn't see all the sides. The side near me was trying to convince people to hold back a bill that was going through Congress at the moment.

      The pamphlet argued that the bill would cut much-needed funds out of community budgets. The pamphlet used the figure of $800,000 as an example. It said this cut money could have been used for things like extra members of the police force.

      The pamphlet then tried to argue that the bill was part of a larger conspiracy, and that Romney was a part of this conspiracy.

      The main goal of this bill, the pamphlet said, was to get police off the street. That way, people would act irresponsibly and violently. The government would wait for a crisis, then come in and take even tighter control of everything.

      I didn't believe in the conspiracy theory, but I was affected by the message and tone of the pamphlet. Romney could see this, and for a moment, thinking I had been won away from him by the alarmists, he stopped talking to me.

      But somehow he got started talking again. He was talking about the comedy shows that used him as a subject. There was one show, kind of like Saturday Night Live, that used him as a subject in a lot of their sketches. Romney imitated the actor that imitated Romney, imitating Romney.

      I reflected on what a bad job of imitation the actor really did. But Romney was catching a lot of the actor's mannerisms. I told Romney he imitated the actor better than the actor imitated Romney.

      The car had stopped. We were now walking outside, in a kind of plaza area with a concrete or stone ground and a big, stone fountain in the center. Romney rushed off ahead of me. He had to head to some meeting. I wasn't sure I'd see him again. But I felt like he was no longer suspicious of me and angry at me.

      As I was walking in Romney's direction, a dissheveled-looking guy in old, brown, tattered pants, shirt, and overcoat walked up to me in something of a hurry. He stopped me with the force of his agitation. He began speaking to me about the conspiracy theory I'd seen on the pamphlet in the car.
    2. leaving mall; psychiatrists at mall/airport; kissing kissing girls

      by , 01-02-2012 at 02:56 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Dream #2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Dream #3

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

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

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

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

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

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

      I was trying to get my tongue in there in the least intrusive way that I could. I was really turned on by the girls' lesbian kissing. I didn't want it to turn into straight kissing. I just wanted to get a little bit of the lesbian erotic energy on my own tongue.
    3. voluntary abduction; honey bread; death game; female cop; bath talk; daughter copies mother

      by , 12-29-2011 at 03:21 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Dream #2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Dream #3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Dream #4

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

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

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

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

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

      Dream #5

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Dream #6

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      The little girl, standing in the hallway in only underwear and a tank-top, was watching the mother through a crack in the door. With a baby-like mentality, the little girl thought she'd copy the mother, in front of the mother.
    4. heavy guitar and dancing; can't run at the zoo

      by , 10-03-2011 at 12:46 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in some place that looked like a living room. But there were a lot of people there. The living room was lit with natural light, which came in through a big window off to my left. I sat along a wall with a lot of other people. In front of the window may have been some boxes or cases, like guitar cases.

      A tall, white man with shoulder-length, brown hair walked up to one of the guitar cases and picked it up. (Or he may have brought a guitar case to the window and sat it down.) It looked like the man was struggling a bit with the guitar and case. So I got up to help the man.

      I found that I was really of no help at all. I tried to grab one end of the case and just dropped it. The case was really heavy! Somehow the man managed to arrange the case or pick it up or something.

      I knew the guitar was the man's guitar. I knew the man was in a band, so that he was out playing this guitar all the time. I asked the man, "No offense, don't take this the wrong way. But -- how can you play a guitar like that for a whole show?" By this time the man had the guitar out and was tuning it. I continued, "I can barely lift the thing. How can you carry it for a whole show?"

      The man may have made some comment to me about how I shouldn't be so lazy, and how it wasn't so hard to carry the guitar.

      I got a closer look at the guitar. It was made up of a lot of gagues and meters, like for some kind of electrical reading apparatus. The strings and tuning knobs themselves looked more like high-tech machine parts than guitar parts.

      The man had started playing something. An old woman came up to me, as if to dance with me to the music. The old woman was just a bit shorter than I, with a big, round hairstyle of dyed-bright-red hair. She was slightly tan, with slightly wrinkled skin. She wore black sunglasses and some kind of white, soft, leather jacket.

      I spun the old woman around a few times. But I started to wonder if everybody around me would think I was in love with this old woman, since I was dancing with her.

      I sat in the room, in the dark. A light shone on the wall across from me. It was like a round spotlight. It shone on two or three spots of a map. The spots may have moved around. The map showed countries, possibly like in Europe. The colors of the countries were probably pink, purple, and orange.

      I was standing up again, in the daylight again, and possibly dancing with another person, possibly my brother or sister.

      Dream #2

      I was in a place like a zoo or some kind of national park. It was daytime. The light was slightly pale, the sky may have been partly cloudy, and the air cool and a little breezy. I had just walked away from some group of people, possibly my family, or maybe a group of friends. I think I went away from them so I could go get my shoes.

      I was walking on a wide, stone-tile path. There were big groups of people all over the place. Off to my left was an asphalt path that went back through a moderately wooded area, up a small hill, possibly to some mansion at the top of the hill. I kept going forward.

      I walked past long stretches of benches that ran along the curves of the wide stone-tile path. There were crowds of people standing and lounging around, and crowds of people sitting on the benches.

      Toward the end of one of the stretches of benches I saw an old friend from high school, Michelle, who I hadn't thought about in years. She looked a lot different. She had short hair, buzzed all around the sides, with just a flip of dyed-blue hair for a kind of bangs-effect. She wore a blue hoodie and blue jeans. She may have been sitting with a girl, who may have been her girlfriend.

      I was happy to see Michelle again, and I called to her. I may actually have thought she was one of my cousins. I had to keep on going -- I had to find my shoes -- but I yelled out to Michelle, as I passed her, that I'd stop to talk to her when I got back.

      This path had apparently run along the edge of a cliff or steep slope, which was off to my right. The path went down a gentle slope just past where I saw Michelle. I must have gotten down to the bottom of the slope.

      In my mind's eye I saw my shoes: they were old, worn out, brown leather shoes, almost like something in a Van Gogh painting.

      I don't know if I ever found my shoes. But I was now running back up the hill. I had to get back to the people I left, so we could leave the "zoo" for the day. And I had to get back to them on time. But before I went back to the people I'd left, I wanted to see if I could talk to my friend/cousin one last time.

      But as I was running, I got jammed up. It was like some person in the park was trying to be a jerk and had gotten in my way. Somehow I'd gotten tangled up with this person, who I couldn't see -- I think they were behind me. I kept struggling and struggling until I was free. I then kicked the person.

      When I turned around to the person -- I'd expected to see some tall, white guy who was being a jerk -- I saw a kind of short, really fat, black woman in a police officer's uniform. The woman started yelling at me, "You think it's cool to hit a police officer? You're gonna pay for that!"

      I was trying to figure out what I needed to do to make up to the police officer. But she now started giving me a kind of mild lecture on how there was no running in the zoo, how it was too dangerous. She may have said, "Especially when you're not wearing shoes."

      I suddenly realized I knew this woman. She "had been" a "ranger" at one of the New York City Parks I'd worked at in the past. (IWL she had been a different kind of worker than a ranger.) She was now a bit taller than me, in much better shape, with a bit lighter skin-tone, and wearing a ranger's uniform.

      The woman started talking to me about what had been going on in the parks since I had left. I thought this woman was taking up all the time I'd wanted to spend talking to my cousin/friend. I thought she could even make me too late to re-join my group and go home. But I thought I should sit here and listen to her anyway. I was still trying to make up for having, technically, assaulted her.

      The woman's main focus was some woman who had gotten kicked out of the Parks Service. The kicked-out woman had done some apparently scandalous things. But they didn't sound very scandalous: mostly just spending too much time talking to park-goers and not enough time doing her actual job.

      As my old co-worker spoke, it became night. My old co-worker became a kind of tall, overweight man wearing glasses. The man was black, with a light skin-tone and freckles. We stood in the blue night, at the edge of an asphalt path, near a stand of some tall pine trees.

      The man kept telling the story of the kicked-out woman. Apparently on the day the woman had been confronted, she'd been having a really bad day. She'd actually gotten violent with some people. But now that she'd been confronted, she'd gotten even more violent.

      The man backed himself deep into the stand of trees, almost to the edge of some cliff or steep slope. I had to walk into the trees to see the man, who stood under a clear sky hung with a huge, clear, white moon.

      The man began acting out all the violent motions the woman had made when she had been confronted. The man was tossing his limbs all over the place and shouting. He looked crazy. I was a little afraid, as if I thought the man would attack me.
    5. skateboarder falls off cliff

      by , 07-24-2011 at 01:02 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      It was night. I walked out (from where) onto the peak of a big hill or mountain. The peak of the mountain was kind of thin and knobby. It seemed to be made of a pink stone like sandstone. There were little stretches of green vegetation like moss or short grass. Below the peak, the mountain seemed to wind around in spires and caverns. There were even a few waterfalls. The air was very calm and cool.

      There were a few groups of people on the mountain, doing different things. There was a group of policemen sitting near the peak of the mountain. I sat near them. I looked down the mountain and saw a group of skateboarders skating down a sandstone ramp.

      The police may have been talking about some job they were on. They may have been looking for some woman for some reason or another.

      The skateboarders had all gone to the bottom of the ramp, possibly together. Now they all came back up together. I was kind of wondering if it was okay to be skating out in a natural area like this. But the kids were getting ready to skate again. So I figured I'd watch.

      A black boy, kind of tall, maybe in his late teens, skated down part of the ramp. But he ended up going down a side ramp off to his right. The ramp sloped upward, over the edge of the moutain. The boy lifted up into the air and then disappeared off the cliff. There was no sound of his crashing, although the boy may have made a little sound of surprise as he went off the cliff.

      I kind of waited for a second. It seemed like everybody, including the cops, had seen the young man flying off the cliff. But the police didn't seem to care. They just kept talking about this job of looking for a woman.

      Finally I told the police that they probably should look for this boy. He obviously just fell off a cliff, and he was in danger. I even bent over, while still sitting, to get a view down the mountain through some kind of hole made in the sandstone. I saw the boy below, lying face down on a ledge of sandstone.

      It was pretty obvious the boy was dead, and I told the police so. They grunted a bit and stood up reluctantly, saying they'd go check things out. In the meantime, however, I was apparently charged with the task of finding the woman.

      I walked down one of the sandstone slopes. But then I was suddenly in a house. I was in an area like a living room. It was really wide, but it also felt short somehow. There were a lot of windows and sliding glass doors. It was night, and the house felt lit, but not completely.

      I had to search along all the walls, even feeling along the walls and down at the corners where the walls met the floors. The woman was apparently in a small space like this. All this time I was either having a conversation with myself in my head or hearing or remembering hearing the police talking, probably about the woman.
    6. crook to agent; back to job

      by , 07-16-2011 at 01:27 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      It was night. Two male cops stood in the threshold of a back door in some alley. In the alley stood two other men. One man was like a Chief of Police or an even higher up law enforcement or civil defense officer. The other man had been a police officer.

      All the men had a 1950s kind of look. They were all white and overweight. The police were in their usual blue uniforms. The Chief was in a similar uniform. But the former cop was wearing something like a white t-shirt and a cap that looked somehow plasticky and boyish, almost like a mix between a milkman's hat and a propeller cap. The former cop was also a bit fatter than the other men.

      The two cops had caught the former cop in some kind of really terrible act. It wasn't just criminal: it was disgusting. The two cops thought the former cop would be taken out of the force or thrown in jail. But the Chief announced that the man had been hired into some even higher security position. The clothes the man wore indicated this position to the men.

      The two cops seemed to have asked, in a kind of veiled way, why the man had been promoted into an elite security force rather than arrested or fired altogether. The Chief said something like, "Well, I guess the higher ups just thought he was good at something."

      The Chief walked the man away from the door and through the dark alley to something like a big van.

      I was now walking with the man through a dark hallway and into a big, dark bedroom. There was just enough light for me to see what was going on in the bedroom. But I don't know where the light was coming from. It was like a dim flashlight.

      Before our walk down the hallway, the man had been poisoned somehow. He was uncomfortable at first. But now he collapsed.

      The man lay face down on the floor with his head and shoulders under the mattress of what may have been a bunk bed with a pretty thick, but kind of plain, wood frame. The man was completely naked.

      For some reason I had to start massaging the man's back. It may have had something to do with getting the poison out. I massaged by making my hands into a fist and then pounding on the man's back with the underside of my fist.

      I wondered if this was really necessary, or if the man weren't somehow tricking me into giving him a massage because it turned him on to have "younger" men give him a massage. I felt kind of violated by that thought, but I thought it couldn't be true.

      But then, for some reason, I imagined being his "maid," but still as myself, as a man. I wore some kind of short, pink, iridescent dress with a fluttery skirt. I thought that eventually, after I massaged the man, the man would want to have sex with me. In my kneeling position, I moved up and down as if to practice the sexual motions I'd use while straddling the man.

      I figured that it wasn't worth it to massage the man, and that he really didn't need me to massage him to get the poison out. I stood up and walked out of the room.

      As I left the room, the man turned a little onto his side, so that his rear end was still facing me. He called to me, saying my name quite audibly. I turned to look down to him. He showed me the index finger of his right (?) hand.

      Apparently the man had either crapped himself or just had a lot of crap in his colon. He had stuck his finger up or near his butt and got a load of crap heaped onto the finger. He was showing me this, as if to turn me on somehow.

      I walked out of the room and through the hallway. The hallway was even darker than the room. Two Latina girls came walking from some pitch black room at the end of the hallway. They both looked kind of the same: very skinny, maybe in their early teens, with long, wavy hair, and wearing dark, v-necked, sleeveless or almost sleeveless t-shirts.

      The Latina girls passed me. I thought that the girls must be going to have sex with the man. I wondered if there weren't two girls because one of them was originally meant for having sex with me.

      But, I possibly thought, it didn't seem like having sex with the man so I could have sex with one of the girls would be much of a trade-off. And, given the way the man acted, I didn't think the sex with the girls would be untainted by whatever kind of nasty acts the man wanted to pull.

      Dream #2

      I was at my office, which was dark, as if it were night and less than half the lights in the office were on. There were a few other people in the office with me. Among them was my co-worker JM, and probably some of the people in his department, none of whom I recognized.

      We stood in some area that seemed like a mix between a reception area and a conference room. The place seemed kind of open, with a bit of an L shape, but with both parts of equal size.

      There seemed to be a reception desk as well as an executive desk in the "top" part of the L, while the "bottom" part had a kind of conference table. Off to the right side of the L, there was the wall of a cubicle, as if a long row of cubicles (with no lights on over them) started there.

      There was also a weird decoration somewhere between the executive desk and the conference table. It looked like a wagon wheel. But it seemed to be made completely out of black iron. The spokes of the wheel also had a twirled look, and they may also have had knobby, node-like ornamentation along them.

      There was some small discussion among some of us. Some people, including my boss, may then have left the room. JM remained. I had quit my job, but for some reason I was talking to JM about future tasks I'd be taking care of, as if I hadn't really quit my job.

      But JM knew I'd quit my job. He didn't confront me directly about it. Instead, he started talking about all the people around him who had a lot of work to do and who would have really benefitted by having someone like me around.

      There was a smaller office desk right next to the conference table. I either sat down at that desk or looked at it (it may have had a smaller, wooden "wagon-wheel" ornament on top of it). I said to JM that maybe I didn't need to quit after all. I thought that if all those people would like me to be around, and if I could do work that they'd appreciate, I could probably stay.
    7. girl in wheelbarrow

      by , 04-26-2011 at 11:46 AM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      A girl was riding a long motorcycle (which may also somehow have been a horse) along a beach-like area which bordered a jungle and which may have had something like a concrete path running along it. The girl looked like my friend FA, except that she was possibly a little girl. The motorcycle was long, much bigger than usual, and it was hot pink.

      The girl did a pop-a-wheelie on the bike/horse. The bike/horse reared too far back and tumbled backwards. The girl fell off the bike. She was severely injured. Two men with dark, coppery skin and black hair ran up to the girl to see if she was okay. She seemed to be in terrible shape and she had a broken leg.

      A third man ran out of the jungle. He had a cell phone in his hands. I thought he was going to call the police. But instead he just kind of conferred with the other men. He figured he'd load up the girl in a wheelbarrow and push her to the hospital.

      I was kind of frustrated by all this. I thought the men should be calling 911. I was now in the scene. The girl was in the wheelbarrow. She was wrapped up in a lot of old-looking grey blankets. She was so wrapped up that she couldn't be seen at all. I began pushing the woman to the hospital.

      I was pushing the wheelbarrow along a concrete path on a university campus. The campus had a lot of lawn between the buildings, and the lawn was all shaded over by the thick canopies of tall trees. I saw a big, red brick building with a white facade and columns in the distance. I thought that was the hospital.

      At an intersection on walkways, I stopped. A huge, red fire tuck was coming from my right. As I saw it approaching, I actually pushed the woman out into the intersection. I figured the truck would see us and stop. But it didn't care about us and wasn't going to stop. So I pulled the wheelbarrow back, let the truck pass, then went on.

      I now realized the big building wasn't a hospital. It was a police station. I had pushed the woman inside the police station. It looked like a garage, but it was lit beautifully, like for a Broadway play. There was one man hunched over a small box on the floor, working away.

      I tried to get the man to look at the woman. But I didn't want to be too pushy and get in trouble with the cops. But after a moment, a female cop came up to us. The cop was tall, heavy set, with feathered, blonde hair, tan skin, and a really red face. She asked me what was wrong with the woman. She then gave me some advice about what to tell them at the hospital, once I got there. It was something about making sure they did the job right and didn't rip me off.

      I was now with a group of friends in some small room. The room was some other place I'd come to for help. The people there were co-workers of mine. The room was like a kind of dumpy office room in a community center or church. There was a potted palm somewhere.

      One of the friends with me started answering questions that one of my co-workers, CB, was asking. CB was asking a lot of questions, not out of concern, but mostly because he was trying to reassure himself that the injured woman's experience wasn't more intense than his own personal experiences.

      Eventually we were told to go somewhere else, like a hospital. As we were leaving, the place became like a cafeteria. I figured I should buy the woman some food, since she was probably hungry. I was in some small, crowded hallway part of the cafeteria. One of my friends, a short female, stood right in front of me, as if waiting for instruction.

      Somehow I had bought two apples. We were now outside, on a concrete walkway on a college campus. The campus was rather active with students. My friends and I were pushing the woman to the hospital. But I decided I should stop to feed the woman.

      I managed to pull the woman out of the wheelbarrow. She was still wrapped up in all the blankets. I unwrapped a blanket near the woman's face and held out an apple.The woman didn't seem to be responding. I was a little worried.

      Another female friend knelt down in front of me and told me that the woman may have died. I couldn't believe it was so. I looked at the apple I was holding. It was rotten on one side. Eventually I heard bites being taken out of the other side. Then the apple was eaten all the way through, to the side I was holding. So the girl was alive!

      The girl was completely unwrapped. I was holding her in my arms. But she was completely invisible.
    8. murderer cop; doomed ballerina

      by , 12-20-2010 at 12:45 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was "at home" with my mom and possibly a couple other family members. The house had two floors and probably a basement. The stairway up to the second floor was near the back of the house.

      There was a policeman in the house. He was tall, white, with reddish-tan skin, blue-green eyes, a balding head of red-blonde hair, and a mustache. I saw him in my mind's eye, but I'm not sure if I ever saw him physically.

      The cop hurried out the backdoor of the house at some point. He may have had some kind of goodbye scene with some of my family members.

      I then realized that the cop was on the run. He had murdered another cop (who may have looked exactly like him, except pale white). The other cop's body, I knew (seeing it in my mind's eye) lay sprawled on the final few steps and the floor of the basement.

      I felt like my family should have done something not to let the cop get away. I also felt like I should go after the cop or help the other cops find him. But I was too afraid to do so. I thought the cop would probably kill me.

      At some point I realized that I had also murdered somebody, so that if I informed on the cop, I would only be letting the cops know where I was, so they'd come after me, too.

      Dream #2

      Some woman dressed as a ballerina with a tan, fluffy skirt and a black leotard-top was trying to get away from a killer. But at some point she had fallen from some height and broken her legs.

      She was panicked. She now pretty much knew she was going to die. The killer, who may have been some kind of ghost-hag woman, would catch up to her and toture her to death.
    9. Old west bowling alley, police visit

      by , 10-31-2010 at 04:54 PM
      Good morning everybody. I remember two dreams from last night. I wrote them down late, so my day memory might be clouding them up a little.

      Two side notes: the bowling alley in the first dream comes from an msn.com photo article I read about huge mansions. Almost every mansion had a movie theatre and a bowling alley.

      Also, the cops coming to my house is from my waking life. My upstairs neighbors always slam and slam on the floor. I feel like it's done to hurt me, like they don't want me around. It's been going on for a long time. I've finally called the police, because it's gotten so constant, loud, and violent that I'm afraid to come home. I feel terrible for calling, because I've never wanted to be the kind of person who calls the police on people. But I also have a fear of the police.

      Dream #1

      I was in a car with my old friends D and Y, riding through the parking lot of a bowling alley. It was probably night time. D was probably driving the car.

      We let Y out, probably to run in and get a lane. For some reason, the car now seemed to be gone. D and I were walking away from the bowling alley, as if we had finished the game and were walking to the car.

      I really wasn't happy to have to hang around with D, and I think I was making that known to him. At some point it became dark, like at night. D was wearing a shiny, black leather jacket. I asked him how his life was. He broke down and started crying about how his mother had died.

      It was daytime again. I felt really bad for D, and I tried to comfort him. He kind of brushed me off and told me it was fine. Apparently his mother had had a terminal disease which acted very quickly on her. D told me something his mother had told him before she died, which made him feel better about the whole thing. It made me think of toothpaste for some reason.

      We had been wandering through the first few rows of the parking lot, more like we were waiting for Y to arrive with the car again, although it was also like we were trying to find the car. But now we were walking back toward the bowling alley.

      The parking lot had been asphalt. But now it was dirt. The dust was floating up into the blue sky, as if there were a lot of traffic or wind in the parking lot, even though I couldn't see any activity.

      Some old friends of ours came up to me and D. They started saying a lot of teasing things to D. But I got really angry and threatening with them, telling them to leave D alone, he'd had to deal with enough already. Everybody said sorry and left D alone.

      We were all walking back toward the bowling alley. We were close to the building, but the actual entrance now felt so far away. I somehow got separated from the rest of the group. I walked all by myself, in a stretch of dirt road between the building-front's sidewalk and a long strip of concrete island.

      The ruts in the ground looked like horse carriages ran through it. I thought to myself, Of course they do. That's how things worked in the Old West. And that's where I am.

      I wondered where the heck the car was. I couldn't remember if I was going into the bowling alley or going home. But if I was going home, I wanted to get in the car and go. And if I was going into the bowling alley, I wanted to take the car to get there quicker.

      But I thought to myself, No car is ever going to come pick you up, dummy. This is the Old West. We didn't have cars back then.

      Dream #2

      I had called the police because the people upstairs from me were slamming and slamming on the floor again. It was morning, and the light in my bedroom was grey and slightly dim. The police knocked on my door.

      I opened the door. There was just one officer: a short, slightly overweight, black woman in her late 40s or early 50s. She told me that I had called the police so many times that I was now under investigation myself. She would have to search my house.

      I said fine. I let her in. I just let her go wherever she wanted in my house. I went back to my bed and lay down. I figured that I wouldn't follow the officer around. That would look suspicious, like I had something to hide, which I didn't.

      But I slowly realized that my apartment was actually very large (which it is definitely not in waking life). I realized I had a lot of rooms, and that as soon as the officer saw how many rooms I had, she'd get jealous of me and try to find some reason to arrest me.

      So I started running through the house, trying to find the officer. I figured that I'd explain how much room I had in this house by telling the officer that my mother also lived here with me.

      I was actually surprised by how many rooms I had in the house. I hadn't realized this place was so big. But a lot of the rooms were done up in such a hyper-girly way, with pink and purple colors, stuffed animals, and fluffy, lacy bed covers, that I felt like someone other than I had to have been living here. I gradually became convinced that my mother was in fact living here with me.

      Now, confident that my story was the truth, I felt like I could confront the officer with my story, preventing her from getting jealous and throwing me in jail for some made up reason.

      I found the officer in a hyper-girly room, sitting on the bed. She started talking to me about something, but I can't remember what. All I remember is that she seemed to be very sad.