maboroshi

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.

Good morning, everybody

Dream #1

I was walking with my sister out onto a parking lot. It was a sunny and clear day, but there was a lot of shade from the canopies of trees overhead. The parking lot was huge and empty. But most of the lot seemed to be shaded by the huge, green trees, which were only on the border of the parking lot.

As we walked into the lot, my sister, who was to my left, and seemed much shorter to me than she is IWL, was telling me about my oldest nephew.

As my sister was talking, I noticed that there was a building, much like the Rose Planetarium structure on the side of the American Museum of Natural History in New York. The building was just a gigantic, glass cube. But I was worried because I didn't see the gigantic, silver sphere, the housing for the actual planetarium theatre, inside the glass cube.

Suddenly it seemed as if the walls of the multi-story glass cube were turning yellowy. It was like the glass was decaying, becoming brittle. It seemed as if the whole thing might crumble at any moment.

My sister told me about my oldest nephew. "He may act fine and seem well-behaved to everybody. But I'm worried about him. He has these obsessions. Sometimes he needs to count certain things. And he'll just get so carried away with the counting that he can't do anything else."

I thought to myself, I haven't treated my nephew kindly enough over the past few years. I've been pretty cold to him, and everybody else, almost all the times I've been home recently. I need to make sure, this time around (apparently I was on a visit), to be much more attentive to my whole family.

My mom had a car parked way out in the center of the parking lot, which was otherwise empty. My sister's children were all playing around the car.

From out of nowhere my oldest nephew came riding by on a bicycle. He could see that my sister and I were talking, so he didn't interrupt us. He just pulled a pop-a-wheelie, which he'd intended me to see. He held his front tire up in the air for a few good seconds as he rode. I figured this would be a great time to tell my nephew I thought he was doing a good job.

But my nephew pulled back too far on his bicycle. He fell to the ground. He seemed to have injured himself. My sister and I ran to my nephew. My mom may have been there as well. But now my nephew was up and walking around.

I was now wearing shorts. I noticed I had a big gash and scrape on the inner side of my left leg, just to the side of my kneecap. I may have had a similar gash on my right leg. The gash was deep and red, but it wasn't bleeding. The scrape was only white, as if I'd only scraped the top layer of skin.

I knew this was what my legs would look like if I'd been in the same bike accident as my nephew had just been in. I asked my nephew, who was up and walking around alright, "How the heck did I get your injuries after you rode the bike?"

I figured to myself that there may have been some kind of empathic connection between us. For some reason, I may have kept getting my nephew confused in my mind with my brother.

I was now standing before my nephew's bike, which was just stood up, while my nephew was running around playing, possibly with my other nephews. My legs may now have been fine.

My nephew's bike had a lot of chrome on it, as if it were now some kind of mix between a bicycle and a motorcycle. There were thick, chrome wheel-guards and a smallish, chrome mechanism like an engine. The engine seemed to be fastened right into the front end of the triangle of the bike's frame.

My nephew ran up to the bike and began looking at the reflections in the chrome. He said that he could see his own reflecion in the chrome, but he couldn't see mine.

I said that maybe he was standing in the wrong place. My nephew was looking mainly at the reflections on the engine's chrome. I suggested he look at the reflections on the wheel-guard's chrome. My nephew may have done this. But I still don't think he saw me.

Dream #2

There was a concert with some guy, singing some famous song that I can't remember. It was a really emotional kind of ballad. The guy was on a dark stage, apparently just a sound-stage for a TV studio. He was surrounded by either thin walls or tilting or triangular towers of TV screens. One light shone down on him, and a high-angled TV camera was taping him.

There was some really famous part in the song that apparently everybody knew because it was so melodic and emotional. Everybody also knew when the famous part came in, because the buildup to that part in the song was so pronounced.

But when the really famous part of the song came on, the camera view switched from being on the main singer to being on a kind of TV camera view of a TV screen. The image on the screen was a little grainy, not very stable, and monochrome, with a blue-green kind of tint. There may have been little time-code letters and numbers running across the top of the screen.

Robert Plant's head and shoulders were in the view of the screen. Plant looked very young, like he looked in the 1970s. He was wearing some shirt that exposed a lot of his chest.

Plant was supposed to be singing harmony on the really famous part of the song that the main singer was singing. But now the time for the harmony part had come in.

Plant almost missed his cue to start singing -- in fact, he started about half a beat late, and he fumbled even then. He was tilting his head and looking off to his left.

It became very apparent to me that Plant was reading the words of the song off a teleprompter. But this didn't help him much. He was hardly getting the rhythm of the song, and he'd sometimes slur or mumble the words, or say them at a much slower pace than the main singer.

I was really surprised. Robert Plant was supposed to be a pro, one of the best. But he wasn't even doing the karaoke version of this song -- a song apparently everybody in the world knew -- correctly!

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was on a dark stage with a group of guys. The guys were something like rock stars or performers. I'm not sure whether the stage was in a large or a small venue. Sometimes the atmosphere seemed very small, almost like a coffee shop or a bar. Other times, it seemed like the five guys were addressing a huge crowd, almost like at a political convention.

The stage itself seemed sometimes to be more like a small coffee shop or bar, or even a living room. I could see rugs, tables, and lamps. I might even once have seen a small hallway leading back to another room.

The five guys were going away. This might have been their last performance ever. So, partly for the crowd's sake, but partly for my own sake, the five guys gave some kind of inspirational speech. They each took a turn speaking. As the person would speak, a spotlight would shine on him.

The five speeches were somehow connected. They began in some kind of historical context. They had to do with something like fighting for liberty. Then they moved on to how people shouldn't lose hope, and what kinds of things they could do to keep fighting for liberty.

All the time, while each person was talking, I was touching the speaking person's face. I could see each person just fine. But the way I was touching the people's faces was like I couldn't see the people's faces, and like I was trying to understand what they were like.

The final person, while I was touching his face, began to laugh a little. I got the impression that he thought I was doing this because I wasn't taking his speech seriously. So I tried to touch his face more seriously. I began tapping his forehead and his chin with a fist like a cat-paw, not closed all the way, but kind of flat.

I may have been a little kid at this point, or maybe all through the dream.

Dream #2

I was at a service counter at a FedEx. A pretty woman with olive skin, black hair, and black eyes told me something about whatever I was here to do. She said something like things would be ready for me in a while, so I should come back.

I thanked the woman and walked away from the counter. I was now in a department store. I was walking around some display areas with really nice dark grey or black slacks. The area all around was also nice, kind of dimly lit, with dark green or blue carpeting. All the display stands also seemed to be made of a nice kind of wood.

A few other guys came up around me. There were some tall, white guys and at least one Asian guy. They were all dressed nice, probably in dark blue blazers, pale blue shirts, and khaki slacks. They were all talking with each other, possibly about some kind of business meeting they'd all been to. But they were all hanging around and looking at the pants near me, I could tell, because they assumed, for some reason, that I had good taste in pants (???).

I was back in some line, which, as I faced it, looked like a checkout line for this department or clothing store. The cashier counters looked very nice, all made out of heavy wood. They almost looked like bank counters. I was near the front of the line.

One of the Asian guys was in front of me, talking to some of the other business guys, who were behind me. This guy wasn't as well dressed as the others. He wore a maroon polo shirt and khaki slacks.

They were all talking about something having to do with the military. It was like they had just been to some convention for military scientific projects. There may have been certain aspects of the technology that they either hadn't understood or had been bored by. But there had been a woman there who had really absorbed and processed all the information.

The Asian man was now kind of giggling a little, like you would after seeing some kind of daring feat. He then said, almost looking at me, as if he felt I had been listening to and understanding the conversation, "Well, I guess that she is a HLA." (He pronounced "HLA" as "hullay.") I assmed that "HLA" meant "High-Level Analyst."

I was now up at the Fedex counter, coming to take care of whatever I had been told to take care of. The woman I had come to was the same woman as before. She had been pretty friendly before. But now she was really rude.

She had an envelope, which I knew was for me. But she was kind of angry that this envelope could be for me. She didn't want it to be mine. She didn't want to give it to me. She told me to give her my ID. I did. She seemed to be going through every number on my ID. Then she was going through every number, every digit, on the envelope.

She began tapping her fingernails on the counter, trying to find some kind of numerical reason not to give me my package. She was getting mad that she couldn't. I had a feeling she didn't even want to give me my ID back.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was out walking on a sidewalk in a residential area. The road I was on went down a steep slope and up another steep slope, making a kind of U- or V-shape. I was near the bottom, heading up the "left" side of the U. The houses on the street were all nice, and the curbs seemed to be pretty well lined with tall, leafy trees. There were a lot of cars parked out along the curbs. There also seemed to be a decent amount of car traffic.

I may have stopped as I was going up the slope. I may have turned around. I may have felt some kind of despair, as if I didn't know where to go.

Suddenly a greyish Mercedes-like car passed me going down the slope. I suddenly had a note on a piece of paper in my hand. It said something like, "MY and LJ are coming for you. You are going to live with us now." (MY and LJ are two people I talk with on another website.)

I knew that the Mercedes had come from MY and LJ. I continued walking down the slope, hoping to get a glimpse of the car again. I heard a voice call my name from across the street. I looked over to see the grey Mercedes now parked. A few people were standing outside the car.

The person who had called my name waved at me. I recognized her as L, MY's mom. She was kind of tall, a tiny bit overweight, and had kind of pale skin and long, black hair. She wore a kind of loose-fitting tank top of a crepe-like material, colored with vivid blue, green, red, and possibly purple and white blotches against a black background. She also may have worn white pants.

I crossed the street to L. I knew that if I was going to live with MY, that L would be my mom, too. There was probably another woman, who I probably thought of as LJ's mom. LJ might have been there, too, possibly as an adult man or woman. There was also a tall, thin man with tough, tan skin, a big, grey beard, and kind of balding head of long, grey, wiry hair. The man wore a dirty, grey tank top and light grey slacks.

I was wondering when I would finally get to meet MY. L lifted up a car seat, which was just sitting by the car on the road. In the seat was an infant girl, dressed in a white onesie with pink trim and a pink bib. I held the car seat, with the baby inside it. I didn't know who this baby was. I knew there was another baby nearby, wearing the same outfit, except blue.

The car seat seemed to be sinking down in my arms, toward the ground, as if I were losing my ability to hold it. L may have also said she thought it was time for me to put down the baby, or I may have thought it would be a good time for me to put down the baby.

But just as I was sitting the baby down, she began sucking at one of my nipples, through my shirt. She wasn't trying to nurse from me (I don't know what she would have gotten out of a guy's nipple). She was doing something more like telling me she wanted me to keep holding her.

Dream #2

I was in "my apartment." I walked out of the apartment, into the hallway. There was a tall, young, white man in the hallway. He may have walked into my apartment. I don't know if he walked back out. I went back into my apartment, into the kitchen, which was just off from the front door.

Dream #3

I was in a cafe that kind of looked like a bar. It was big, as big as a restaurant, and it was made with lots of dark wood. I sat in a small, two-person booth at the front of the restaurant, right across an aisle from the front end of the service counter. In front of me, beyond my booth, was a big set of shelves stacked with free newspapers. Just beyond that was a huge front window-wall, as big as one that might be seen at the front of a grocery store.

The place may have felt and sounded busy. At one point, a customer seemed to be arguing with or yelling at the guy behind the service counter.

An Asian woman, maybe in her late 30s or early 40s sat down across from me at my booth, without asking, and even kind of forcibly and abruptly. I was a little offended, but I just decided to act like she hadn't done anything unusual.

I looked at her face and realized she was a famous author. (I may have thought of her as the famous -- male -- physicist Michio Kaku.) I was kind of surprised that someone so famous would want to sit with anybody. I figured she'd be so hounded by fans that she'd treasure any moment she could get alone.

The woman had slammed her coffee down at sat down. But now she jostled up, kind of impatiently, out of her seat. She grabbed some sugar from a stand near the newspaper shelves and came back. She irritably stirred her sugar, slopping her coffee out of the cup. It suddenly seemed like there was a mess of coffee stirrers, sugar wrappers, napkins, sugar, and coffee everywhere.

For a moment, things seemed to be silent. I thought perhaps I should talk to the author. Maybe she'd sat with me because she'd wanted to talk with me. And I apparently was a fan of her work. So I thought I'd have something to ask her. But I was afraid to talk to her, thinking she would just think of me as another big fan.

Now another customer was yelling at a guy, probably a different guy, behind the service counter. This time it definitely sounded like the customer was upset because the food he had ordered was in such bad condition that the man couldn't have it. All of this kind of food had been wrecked for the day. The customer was really upset. He left.

For some reason this all sounded really interesting to me. I stood up to ask the worker what was going on. The author, thinking she should follow my "good actions," as if I had been acting out of concern, quickly stood up and came with me to the counter.

I asked the worker what had happened. The worker was tall, white, kind of skinny, with shaggy, brown hair and pale eyes. He wore a dark baseball cap and probably a dark polo shirt with thin, green stripes.

The worker just responded, "Well, he just got annoyed. You know how ----- (another worker) always has that saying of his? 'If you gotcha, then mmm... gotcha!'"

I now saw a torn piece of notebook paper with this saying written sloppily on it in black ink. The quote was upside down to my view. I understood that the worker had repeated this quote often enough that he was really starting to tick all the customers off.

I now went up into some upstairs area in the cafe. I opened a door and found myself at the back of a performance space. It was just a kind of long, narrow featureless room. It was all dark, except at the front area, which served as a stage, and was lit with normal, incandescent stage lights. The audience didnt't seem to have any chairs. There were a lot of people, but they all seemed to be sitting on things like big cushions or wooden cubes.

The performers were a small rock band, led by a female singer. The song began. It was very distinctive. It had a really nice, sad sound and some interesting harmonies. The song made me look closer at the woman. She was kind of short and thin. She wore a bright turquoise sundress. She had lightly copper-tan skin and blonde-brown hair in a semi-beehive. She wore big, wide, wrap-around sunglasses.

I thought I'd recognized this singer. So I walked up toward the front of the audience, to a group of my friends. They were all young, Indian or southeast Asian guys and girls, with darkish skin. They were dressed in jeans and t-shirts. I asked them, "Isn't that Atilia?" (Atilia Haron, a Malaysian pop singer I like.)

One guy said, "No. This girl sings this song. It's called Pelita. It's for this movie. There's a flyer up front." (Pelita is a song by another Malaysian group called A.P.I.)

The concert seemed to be over. My friends and other people in the audience were leaving. I walked up to the front, kind of in a hurried, crouching fashion, as if the concert were still going on and I didn't want to get in people's view, as well as wanting to get back to my friends quickly.

There was a painted bench up front. There were two stacks of flyers on it. Both flyers were the size of regular pieces of paper. One flyer had a background like a deep blue, starry sky. The flyer was advertising something about the cosmos. The word "Cosmos" may have been in the title. The event was either a lecture or a film.

The second flyer advertised the band. It was white, with some kind of yellow framing fading in and out of the background. There was a kind of art-nouveau design of a bird like a phoenix, done in heavy, black lines, with bright colors in the spaces between the black lines.

The woman's name was at the top of the page. The first name was something like Nfemini or Nefmini. The second name was something like Salmani or Salyami. I got the impression that the woman was either Egyptian or Israeli.

Dream #4

I was in a cafe. I was sitting in a front area. But then I got a phone call. So I decided to walk to a back area to talk.

The back area seemed to be behind a partition like a backless bookshelf full of books. The back area was dark, lit as if from a single incandescent bulb on the floor somewhere. There were some tables in the room and a leather bench with tables along the right wall. There were a lot of people around.

I sat in the bench. I sat right next to some bookbag or backpack without thinking of it. I started talking with the person who'd called me. But just as I was starting to talk, a young man walked toward me. I realized that the backpack was the man's. I had inadvertently sat in his seat.

So I got up and sat at one of the tables in the room, continuing to talk with the person on my phone. I had the thought that it had been good, after all, that I'd moved to one of the tables. A phone conversation at the bench would distract too many people, including the young man.

Dream #5

I woke up in "my bedroom." I was on a tall bed, under a whole bunch of blankets. The room seemed to be nice but small and really cluttered. A lamp was on on a small dresser near the head of my bed. It made a bright, kind of yellowy light.

I rolled out of bed and walked through the cluttered room. To the left of the door was a random box, on top of which was a huge, plastic package of diapers. Diapers may have been spilling out of the container. There may actually have been diapers scattered all over the room.

I don't think I was "myself." I seemed to be a tall, kind of thin, but muscular, white man, kind of easygoing, walking and thinking with a bit of a swagger that I definitely don't have in waking life.

I went into the bathroom. I got out of the shower (apparently I had taken a shower). I was drying off. I realized I needed to go to the bathroom. I thought, for some reason, that maybe I should just put on a diaper and pee in that, instead. That thought really turned me on, for some reason. But I didn't really think it was a good idea to just go walking around in a diaper.

Suddenly I was either putting a diaper on or taking it off. It seemed completely shredded, for some reason, and there seemed to be all kind of layers to the diaper. One layer seemed like thin, clear plastic-wrap. Another layer was a kind of porous material, like the tops of tennis shoes.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a big theatre. The theatre was kind of crowded. The lights were on, but a show was playing. It was apparently the Ed Sullivan show where the Beatles played.

I was surprised by the songs. The first song sounded a little bit like a Beatles song, but it also sounded modern. It may also have sounded like the "Boss Boss" song, by RC Succession.

The second song sounded even more modern. I could also hear it very vividly. I was really surprised by this song. I was surprised I hadn't heard it before, and that the Beatles had chosen it for the Ed Sullivan show. But I really liked it.

I was now getting up on stage. I was taking part in some kind of performance show, like a karaoke show or something like that. I felt like there was a band somewhere, but I didn't see a band: only a couple of guys leading me up on stage. The stage was empty and seemed to be made up of two or three tiers of some kind of beige-colored, polished material.

I knew I was supposed to sing the Beatles song I had just heard. But I didn't know the song. I thought that maybe all I was supposed to do was lip-sync with the song. I figured that if I paid enough attention to the words I could do that on the spur of the moment.

I now faced the crowd. The song was playing. The song was full, so the singer's voice (don't know which Beatle it was: didn't sound like any) could be heard. But I was actually supposed to sing out loud with the song.

I actually got through the first verse pretty well by sticking to the sounds as I heard them sung. I ended the chorus of the first verse pretty loud, with a lot of enthusiasm. I had a feeling that sooner or later the singer's voice would be withdrawn, and that I'd have to sing all by myself.

The second verse was starting up. I was really afraid I didn't know the lyrics. But I figured that if I heard the first words from the singer, I'd probably recall the rest of the song.

At some point I may have been back down in the crowd, or I may have had the view of a camera looking into the crowd. I may have realized that the crowd was really a group of my peers and that I didn't have to worry so much, even if I did a bad job.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

An old version of Judy Garland and an older man were in a hotel room. The hotel room was lit a little dimly, and the light had a slightly orange tinge to it. Garland sat in a nice, big chair, and the old man sat in a similar chair about a meter and a half away.

The old man was apparently interviewing Garland. I kept seeing Garland's face in close up, as if my view were the camera's view. Garland had her hair done in pigtails, kind of like she had it as Dorothy in Wizard of Oz, but a little scraggly and awry. Garland's face was skinny and kind of wrinkled. But overall she carried herself with a lot of dignity.

Garland started saying that she needed or that she wanted to do a couple of things. The old man interrupted the interview either to get something for Garland or to let her do whatever she needed to do.

It struck me that the old man acted kind of effeminate, but also kind of classy. He was obviously Garland's friend, but her kind of acted like her servant as well. He might have taken the task of being Garland's friend a little too seriously.

Dream #2

Some kind of documentary. There were a lot of shots at night of groups of decent-looking, transvestites. They were all kind of skinny and dressed in evening wear. Some even wore tiaras. They were all kind of acting rowdy, like rebels or like punks.

The documentary explained that these transvestites had joined together into a rock band as part of some plan to invade the rock world. They got into some big rock event, possibly a punk rock event, that had been full of kind of conventional acts, and they caused some sort of a scene.

But apparently, over time, the transvestite rock band got really famous. There were scenes, all night scenes, again, of girls chasing the rock band's cars around.

There was one particular guy in the group that was very popular. But he was also really depressive. There was one scene of him, probably in a dressing room, when he was all done up like a woman. He looked nice enough, but he was just so terribly depressed that it was messing up his act.

In another scene, the guy was out in a car at night, in the backseat with another person, being driven along some huge driveway in front of a large building like a mansion or a museum or a state building. The guy was only halfway done up like a girl. His hair was only halfway set in some kind of 80s style, so it looked like he'd just woken up. His face had make-up on, but his face still looked, not just masculine, but completely exhausted.

As he was being driven away, there was a pack of girls chasing the car, trying to get into the car. The guy just kept screaming, "Leave me alone! Can't you leave me alone?"

At some point there was a really aggressive girl who kept pounding on the window. It seemed less like she was infatuated with the guy and more like she actually wanted to hurt him, or at least intimidate him, let him know she hated him.

Dream #3

I was in some busy part of town, with a lot of people on the sidewalk. A lot of the stores seemed to be open to the street, like booths, but they were the size of regular small shops.

I walked past one shop which was a tattoo parlor. There were two guys or two girls who looked kind of like guys working there. They wore black jeans and black t-shirts, and their arms were covered in tattoos.

I thought out what I would tell my friend H, who loves tattoos. I would tell her, "See? There's a tattoo shop with pretty interesting people right here. And you never even looked for it. You were too afraid. But look! It's even right next to the Japanese restaurant you like to go to!"

I passed the Japanese restaurant that H and I have gone to a couple times.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in some kind of a small performance space. There were folding chairs all arranged before a small stage. There may have been 50 or 75 chairs. The floors were wood. The area with the chairs was dim. I stood at the back of this area.

The space behind the chairs was empty and lit, possibly with a combination of incandescent and fluorescent lights, as if the overhead light were incandescent, but a light from some other room were shining into the space as well. An adult woman was teaching a little girl how to do some kind of traditional dance. The girl may have been dressed in a dark pink leotard and some kind of sash that gave her a traditional look.

I stood there for a moment watching the little girl dance. The woman then told me that the girl wasn't ready to perform yet. The woman would give her a bit more rehearsal and then let me watch her. So it would be best if I didn't watch her right now. I assented and walked away. The woman may then have started training another girl or a couple of boys and girls.

I sat in the seats at the very front. I was the only person in the audience. I sat there in the dark, looking at the stage. There was some kind of set on the stage, maybe colored blue and gold-orange. At some point a black woman and her son sat down in the row behind me and to my left.

Somehow the idea of food came up. The boy wanted some kind of sweet food, maybet sorbet, from a makeshift concession stand which had been right where I was standing while I had been watching the girl dance. The boy told his mom, "It sure is good we waited, isn't it? Now the sorbet is ready, and we get it for free!"

I realized that we had been given tickets for free food from the snack bar. The tickets were like red, carbdoard circus tickets. But we'd had to wait until a certain time before the food was given out for free.

I stood up to get some food. For some reason I felt like I needed to beat the son to the makeshift concession stand, which may just have been a big, red cooler and some cheapish folding screen, with the dance instructor lady pulling food out of the cooler.

But I now heard an announcement on an overhead speaker. A woman's voice said, "The food being handed out right now is only rotten food." I understood that the timing of the good food being handed out was messed up. So I headed back to my seat to wait for the good food to start being offered.

But before I got to my seat, I started seeing things as if I were a camera. My view floated to a few different adults. At each person, the view would freeze and some little screen-title would pop up, saying who the person was. The people were all kind of young, edgy, and cool. They posed as a rock band. But they were really a group of spies. There were one woman and two or three men.

One man I remember sat in some booth like a shop. He sat behind a turntable, as if he were a DJ. He was white, with red-blonde hair and chunky, black-rimmed eyeglasses. He wore a striped shirt.

Behind the man were all kinds of circular objects, like plates or records. They were all colored differently, and each had some variation of a wave-like pattern running through it. One circle was yellow. Another was grey, with a dark grey squiggle-wave humping up in the center. Another was blue, with some kind of white, shell-like cloud pattern in the center.

Another member of the band was either a black man or an Asian woman who sat in the front row and far left side of the folding chairs. I think at first he was a really nice looking black man. Then my view went through the other members again. Then when I got back to him, he was a really cute Asian girl.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in some kind of big building like a museum. The building seemed to have a couple of floors, the upper floor and lower floor visible to each other. The lower floor was far down from the upper floor and was connected to it by a bunch of ramps. The walls were fronted by brown wood panels, which were set aslant from the real walls. Mild lights beamed down from the high ceiling.

I was on the upper floor, but I was talking to an old lady who stood in front of some painting down on the lower floor. The old lady had grey hair in a big perm. She may have also been wearing a blue, polyester suit, like from the 1970s.

I was apparently either a Nazi or Jewish. Somebody, not in the museum, had said something degrading about me because of what I was. The person who insulted me may have been something like a Nazi.

I was complaining to the lady. The old lady told me something like I should go right now to confront the person who had insulted me before. She told me something very specific to tell him. It may have involved dropping her name.

I may then have imagined a view of me walking outside, into the black night, in some kind of suburban area. I then imagined, without sound, being in some kind of public setting and standing before a black man, as if I were in the process of telling him to stop degrading my Nazi or Jewish character.

Dream #2

Some man had died. Something about this had caused a ghost or demon to occupy the man's place. So now there was some kind of exorcism being performed.

It was black night. A black man was chasing the ghost, who looked like Debbie Harry. The black man was dressed in some kind of outfit with a straw-woven chest plate made out of long, white beads and a tall headress that looked something like a fountain made out of straw and grass. The man kept hitting Debbie Harry on the head with what looked like drumsticks with padded tops.

The man was chasing the ghost along a weird structure that was like a maze of ramps made out of wooden planks, like a bunch of wooden bridge-like ramps. There were flat areas as well, also made out of the wooden bridge-like structures. The ramps and flat areas were all lit up by light bulbs like the light bulbs on amusement park rides.

The wooden structure was as big as a mansion or an apartment building. It seemed to be on the shore of a beach, at the edge of some kind of dense jungle.

The ghost may finally have run into some high up, central area of the structure. The central area was really lit up with a bunch of lights. It was either something like an altar or a throne.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was somehow talking with a private detective or remembering a past discussion with a private detective. It was like I was seeing either real life or a video of "my family's house," with possible clips of the detective in the house, while also hearing the conversation between myself and the detective.

The detective had been sent to my family's house. Some other member of my extended family had accused either my mother or my sister of doing something bad. This may have included abusing children or stealing money from an extended family member.

I didn't feel like my mom or my sister had actually done anything wrong. So I didn't want the detective to do whatever kind of investigation he was doing on them. But the detective was actually mad at me. He told me that I wasn't helping him enough. He needed to get into the house. But I was keeping everything closed. He told me that the least I could do for him would be to keep a window open.

At some point I saw the detective in the living room. The room, like all the others, was cluttered with all kinds of papers, though it also appeared to be cluttered with other things, such as flannel blankets. The detective was shuffling through a stack of white papers that looked like some kind of government documents.

Dream #2

I was in a living room The room was kind of nice. I stood in front of a big entertainment center. I was remembering a conversation with my mother. At some point in the conversation, my mother asked me how much money I was making. I told her my salary. She said, "Good. Now it's time to go out there and make even more."

I had the feeling that this living room was my mom's living room. I had been living here, but now I was getting ready to move out. It was part of the next step in my life.

I stood looking at the entertainment center. There was a TV inside the entertainment center, but it was sat on some kind of coffee table which sat on the floor. In fact, the entertainment center didn't seem to have any shelves or drawers in it. It just seemed to be some kind of six-foot-tall shell made of fake wood. But I still thought it was pretty cool. It may have had some potted plants hanging down from its roof.

I wondered if I was going to be able to take the entertainment center with me. I couldn't remember if it was mine or my mom's. But now I was having trouble remembering whether my mom was coming with me.

I walked through the entertainment center. The right side of it had a little doorway-like structure. I thought to myself that the entertainment center added a lot to the feeling of space in the house. I thought that good taste in interior decoration must mean something like being able to fill your house with all these things that seem to add to the feeling of space in the house.

Dream #3

I was in some wide, short space with concrete floors and cinder block walls. The place may have been like some part of a school building. The floors were waxed and shiny. The only light was from windows at the far end of the room. I may have seen myself in the middle of the room, as if I were separate from myself. I may have looked like a junior high or early high school student.

I was running around in a bit of a panic. For some reason, for a really long time I had been trying to remember a L'arc en Ciel song. But I kept remembering the wrong song. I finally slowly began to remember the lyrics to the song I had been trying to remember.

I also began to "remember" that this song had been taken by some group of people to make some statement on women's menstrual cycles. It was then being used to make girls feel bad about themselves and about having sex.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a long line, probably all of young men, in a cafeteria or gymnasium that had been set up like a cafeteria. The cafeteria was crowded and busy. Everything had a bluish tinge to it. The line kind of snaked around in a square. It was moving slowly but steadily.

As I was working my way through the line, around one corner, I could see a group of girls sitting at the end of a long table. The girls looked like the girls from Girls Generation. They were also famous singers. I could see them only a little bit through the spaces between the people in front of me.

The girls started singing a little song/chant involving my name. It seemed like they were half-teasing me and half-flirting with me through the song. I knew that the girls were my friends. In fact, I had been sitting with them before I'd gotten in line.

I was now moving forward to where the girls could see me plainly. The line was still moving. I thought that as I passed the girls I would wave or do something like that to acknowledge them quickly without stopping and blocking up the line.

But when I was in full view of the girls, one of them told me to stop right where I was and stand still so she could take pictures of me. I stopped. But I was afraid of the guys behind me. They were tall and they seemed really mean. And it seemed like the instant I'd stopped walking, the guys had started to get impatient with me.

I was trying to think up a couple quick poses to give for the camera. But I could only think up feminine poses. I also felt shaky, because I was afraid of the guys behind me, who were getting very impatient. But I was trying to act unconcerned, innocently oblivious to the guys' anger. This somehow seemed feminine to me as well.

Good morning, everybody. I've had zero dream recall recently. But I remember this dream from last night.

Dream #1

I was in a cafeteria in the basement of a building. I had gotten food from a salad bar. I had a lot of food on my plate.

Now I was at the salad bar again, as if the whole scene were starting over. I had a plate. I was walking along the "salad bar," which was more like an open-faced refrigerator section for displaying drinks at a deli.

I heaped some lettuce and mushrooms onto my plate. I put some other kind of vegetable onto my plate. I lay a couple of long ears of baby corn by the lettuce. I also had some other kind of food by the baby corn.

Feeling the plate, I thought I had gotten too much food. The cafeteria would charge by the pound. This plate was heavy. It would cost me a lot of money. So I decided to put back the baby corn.

At this point I may have had a double-vision, as if my consciousness were in two places at once. I was still in the cafeteria, getting my food, or walking to the register to pay for my food. But I was also sat down in some long, glass-ceilinged corridor eating my food.

(The cafeteria itself had an eating area, I'm pretty sure, just past the registers. But the area I ate at seemed like it was in a different place altogether.)

I hunched over my food at the edge of a long, communal table that looked kind of like a big picnic table. A lot of people passed by me. I may have been in the hallway of a mall. The sunlight was pretty strong coming in through the glass ceiling. To my right, maybe 10 meters away, was a red cinder block walled elevator bank.

The speakers were playing "a U2 song," which may have sounded like "Vertigo." The lyrics said something about how everybody always said bad things about the Internet, but how Bono thought it was great, because it was like the Mona Lisa of porn.

Good morning, everybody. I remember two dreams from last night. The second dream occurred in a 15-minute space between my waking up to check the time and my actually getting out of bed.

Dream #1

I was in a forest or a park. It was a clear, autumn day. I stood with a small group of people who were probably around my age. We were hiding or just standing behind a tall tree like a poplar but with really ropy bark.

In a leaf-strewn clearing just beyond the tree, a woman was interviewing "the famous artist" Dylan Reed. He was either a poet or a punk rock singer. But he was generally known as a kind of rebel genius.

The interviewer started asking the man a series of questions based on something I had told her about a friend of mine who was also known as kind of a wild guy. The friend may have been among the group of people standing with me behind the tree.

I felt embarrassed that the interviewer was posing all these questions in such a way that they were obviously about my friend and they were obviously made to guve the impression that I thought badly about my friend. And, worst of all, they were posed directly to "the famous artist" Dylan Reed, of whom I thought so much!

The scene of the interview seemed to change from being in the forest or park to being in some kind of department store, possibly near the perfume section. The interview was now over, and the woman had walked away.

One or two friends and I were now trying to meet Dylan Reed, who was still milling around, all by himself. He seemed to be a tall, good-looking, white man, somewhat well dressed, with hair about down to his jawline. The perfume area was now something like an area displaying things like small luggage and bookbags.

Dylan Reed and my wild friend were something like the same person. My friends and I got a chance to speak with him. While my friends, in particular a pretty female friend, were speaking with Dylan Reed, I was thinking to myself how to make him understand that I didn't think about him in such a critical way as the interviewer had made it sound.
I may have been staring at a very nice, navy blue book bag up on a glass shelf. I may have seen it from a low angle, a child's point of view.

Dream #2

I walked through a very nice lobby like in a museum or a very big library. There were stone columns and walls, marble floors, and wide, curving staircases. A dim light flowed in from high windows. Some walls or portions of walls may also have been wooden.

I was particularly interested in a set of columns that looked "Egyptian," with very ornate, almost wood-like, carvings of fruit and tree-textures.

I was either walking with or meeting up with a woman about my age, possibly my old friend P. She told me, "I've been around this place since the mid-70s. So I've seen it really develop and change through the whole remodeling process." I was pretty impressed.