maboroshi

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was walking out on a sidewalk, near the top of a hill. It was daytime, and the sun was bright. I was walking past the stone gates of some kind of professional center. The gates had an arched entranceway.

One of my old friends, PD, walked out from the gates. PD was apparently dressed as a business professional. But she looked kind of horrible. She wore a grey skirt and a green blazer, with a white blouse that had some kind of old-style bow-tie on the front of it. Everything looked like it was from the 1970s.

PD's hair was also weird. It didn't look quite real. It was curly or crimpy. It looked wet, like after a shower, when a person's hair looks damp and a bit disarranged. But it also looked dry and dead, like the stringy hair of an animal that had been laying on the road for a while.

PD's face looked about the same, except that she may have had a tan, and that her face may have been a bit worn with age.

I called out to PD, kind of gently, since we were so close, and I was so awe-stricken at seeing her. PD said, "What makes you think you can just come up and talk to me after all this time? I don't want to see you anymore."

PD either got onto a bus or got into a white SUV, driven by some rich guy who had been waiting for her. I respected PD's desire not to speak to me.

I walked down the hill and found myself under a bridge, like a bridge for a highway overpass. The sunlight curved down under the shade of the bridge, making a warm little quarter-circle of light in a small space.

Some kids may have been skateboarding in that space of light. One of the kids may have had a red and white skateboard, with a design almost like the Coca-Cola logo.

Dream #2

I was watching an old film. The main thing about this film was actually the music. Some great composer from the early twentieth century had made this music. The film may have been a documented performance to accompany the music.

But what the film was was living footage of an actual event. The footage was from one of the World Wars, possibly WWII. The scene was some torn out space of land. The upper right area looked like a trench or a foxhole. But the whole area before the foxhole was a blasted out cavity in the ground.

Two or three men sat slumped on the ledge of the trench and the blown out space. Behind the men was a bright light. Some thick cloud of gas spewed out from behind the men and into the blown out space.

The way the men were slumped against the trench and each other, it was obvious they were dead. I assumed that the gas clouds I was seeing were poison gas, and that the men had been killed by it. I assumed their deaths had been very painful.

At some point the music built up to an ominous crescendo. I was trying to figure out why the composer of this music wanted us to watch the actual deaths of soldiers on the battlefield while we listened to his music.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

There was a girl who hung out with some extremely fashionable people, possibly Andy Warhol's entourage. She had either darkly tanned or copper-brown skin. Her body was lovely. But her head was very strange.

From her forehead back, her head was like a flat disk, like a plate. It was hairless and a little bit mottled. On either side of this disk, almost at the sides of the woman's cheeks, were eyes. The eyes were quite wide, pale, with very tiny pupils.

I saw the woman in two scenes. In the first scene, which I can't remember very well, the woman was indoors, in some place like a fashionable club. In the second scene, the woman was walking on some brick path beside a house, drinking some can of juice or soda. In this second scene, the girl was wearing a long, stylish, but very summery, green dress.

I noticed that the girl's mouth and chin were both very small. Her mouth was almost all the way down to her chin. I thought the girl must have had some kind of disease that had deformed her face.

I now heard the woman talk, as if in narration. She had been an orphan, but it had been very hard for her to find a home, due to her deformity.

Another female narrator now explained that her situation had been similar with that of a boy. I now saw the boy laying in the back of a car. He was little, maybe eight years old. He had shaggy, brown hair, and he wore a white t-shirt and khaki shorts. He told the camera (?), "I've been to a number of different homes. But nobody's wanted me -- because of my problem."

I wondered what the boy's problem was. He didn't look deformed. But I suddenly saw his chest, for just an instant. The boy had a healed-over puncture wound, very deep, in his chest, just up and to the right of his colar plexus. The wound looked just like somebody had stabbed a sign-post into the boy's chest. I took this wound to mean that the boy had heart problems.

The boy continued, "I went to the libraries to do research on my disease. But they didn't have much about it. But I studied whatever I could find."

I had a view of the boy in the library, typing at a computer. It looked like he was on some kind of black and white, text-only page on the internet. But it was just the library catalog. I thought to myself, It's a real sign of the times that, whenever this documentary was made, all you could do on a computer at a library was look up what books they had at that specific library. But nowadays, if you have the right keywords, you can do tons of research on just about anything.

The woman narrator now spoke about how she went to the library the boy had gone to, so she could see for herself how little information the library had regarding the boy's disease.

I was now far out in a big town, which I may have thought of as Brooklyn. I was way out at the end of town, but I needed to get back home. It was daytime, and the streets were really packed. I was looking for a subway station. I kept zig-zagging through various crowded streets, hearing people's conversations. I kept finding subway stations, but they were never the right ones.

One subway station was elevated maybe five or six meters above ground. It was set into a concrete stairway which had shrub-filled planters all along it. This appeared to be a station for one of the green trains (4, 5, or 6 line in New York). But it also seemed like the station was closed, even taped off with yellow police tape.

I wandered down a straight road filled with people and cars and tall buildings. There was noise and rushing everywhere. I may have done more zig-zagging through the streets, looking for a police station.

I was now in a quiet, suburban neighborhood, walking up to a driveway on the right side of a house, coming from the front of the house. As I did, a 12- or 13-year-old girl came walking up beside me. She was only wearing a pair of yellow briefs-style panties. She had pale skin and brown hair down to just above her shoulders.

I was in some bathroom. I had a huge mustache, and maybe a huge goatee. I was trimming my hair. I realized that the more I cut off, the better I looked. I wondered what would happen if I just cut the whole thing off.

I was back out in front of the house. In my memory, I heard a black man telling me how it would be bad if I kept thinking about the little girl whom I'd seen topless. He said that something like that was bound to get me in trouble.

I was now walking back over to the driveway. At the curb, the driveway had something over it, like a gate of garlands, through which a new bride might walk on her way up the aisle at an outdoor wedding.

Just coming through the gate was what appeared to be some kind of creepy guy. It looked like the guy was trying to catch up to me and elbow in front of me for some reason. So I sped up my walking to get to the house's side door before the creepy guy could get to me.

But then the person called out to me, not by name, just something like, "Hey!" I looked at the person and realized it was just the girl again. She was naked, again, except for her yellow briefs. The girl held a white, terry-cloth summer dress in her hands. But she didn't look like she was going to put it on.

The girl's body was a little weird to me. She was pretty thin, but her bottom was a little bigger than would seem to be proportional with her torso. The girl also had two "breasts," which were more like two little nubs of flesh with nipples on top, very close to each other at the center of her chest.

The girl seemed to be pretty interested in me. She said, "Yeah, I'm studying -----." (I forgot what she was studying.) We got in the house. We were in a hallway. At the far end of the hallway I saw a room off to the left, with orange walls, where my mom was sleeping on a low mattress or couch.

The girl and I walked into a room near the front of the hallway and off to the right. The room was small and plain, with just a mattress on the floor and a white sheet draped against the back wall. There may also have been a loose door or a long wood board leaning against the wall near or under the sheet.

The girl was continuing to talk about her study project. Apparently it was all a real pain in the neck. Now she needed to use a computer for some research. So she'd come back here, apparently to use my mom's desktop.

But we were apparently in this room because the little girl wanted me to have sex with her here. I was thinking it probably wasn't a good idea, because I didn't want my mom to wake up and discover us. But I also felt like if I wouldn't get in trouble, I should probably just have sex with the little girl. She seemed to be really curious. I thought I should help satisfy her curiosity.

Dream #2

(I had fallen asleep while "rehearsing" the memories of my first dream.)

I stood in a dark room of a museum with a woman and possibly another person, maybe a man. The woman was very business-like, professional looking. The walls of the museum were either black or not lit at all.

The woman and I stood before a painting of some dramatic scene, like a Redcoat soldier on a hill during the Revolutionary War. But it was done in a very realistic style, like that of Millet (?), except more watery. The sky was a slushy blue, and the hill was like washy waves of green, dotted with white flowers. The Redcoat seemed to be collapsing. He may already have been down on one knee.

The style struck me as very dramatic and beautiful. But suddenly I realized the painting was a pointillist painting -- a style of painting I generally don't like very much.

I told the woman that this might be one of the very few pointillist paintings I actually like. I gave a description of the painting. As I did, I suddenly thought, Wait a minute! This isn't a memory from one of my dreams! What the heck am I doing here?

The painting seemed to start changing, a black, comic-book style painting "burning" out from underneath it, from the middle outwards.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was down on a subway platform. There were no lights on the platform. It was like the power had gone out. The only light was from a stairwell leading directly up to the ground. That light was enough to keep things nearby visible, though still very dim. But farther along the platform it was pitch black. There were a few other people on the platform.

I was waiting for a B-train. But somehow I heard the train was going to be delayed. I figured I'd wait around a bit. To occupy myself, apparently, I jumped up a meter or so in the air and kicked one of the metal column-beams with both my feet.

I think I came to understand that the train was going to be very delayed. I wondered if I might catch another orange train: maybe the D-train. But I thought that would also be pointless. I thought I might as well get out of here and go to another station. But, for some reason, I still decided to wait for the B-train.

There was now a little girl and her father. The little girl was maybe two or three years old. She had short, brown hair and was wearing lavender-colored shirt and pants.

The little girl was showing off to socialize with me. She was doing some weird kind of hopping thing, hopping up and down, as if she couldn't control herself because she was so nervous.

I liked the attention, so I didn't notice that the girl was getting carried away. She hopped a little too far and fell onto the tracks. She landed on her feet and didn't seem afraid or anything, but I knew it was a bad situation for her to be on the tracks, and I kept worrying that she would touch the third rail and get electrocuted.

Before I could really process anything completely, a big, muscular, blonde man like a soldier rushed up from behind me. He quckly (and softly!) jumped down onto the tracks, picked up the girl, and hopped back up onto the platform. He set the girl down, standing, a couple meters away from her father. He then sat down next to the father. The father was now apparently sitting cross-legged on the platform concrete.

The girl may now have been sitting on the concrete amid a bunch of blankets. I crouched or crawled around in front of the girl, to play with her. Apparently she liked me because I had a good imagination and I could play kids' games as if they were real.

Somehow I knew the girl was already pretending I was some kind of creature. I asked her what kind of creature I was. I figured that I'd then act out being the creature in somekind of wacky way.

The girl told me I was a bug. I tried really hard to think of a bug, but none came to my mind. Eventually, I crawled on my knees and held my arms behind my back, rubbing them together. Apparently my arms were supposed to be wings, and I was rubbing them together to clean them. This may somehow have reminded me of being a fly.

I was now in some kind of foresty area, talking with Matte (from DV). He looked a little too skinny, and his face was stubbly and haggard. I worried about him and told him he needed to eat more and keep up his weight.

I was now in a kitchen. At first there were a young man and a young woman. But the young woman, probably having fixed her meal, left the kitchen. The young man may have been shirtless. He always had his back to me. He was either cooking on a stove or waiting for something in a microwave.

Matte had been taking a shower, but now he came into the kitchen to cook some food. The kitchen counter was L-shaped, and, as the young man stood at the back part of the counter, Matte stood at the right part. Matte was also cooking at a stove. So the counter may have had two separate stoves.

Matte was cooking using a wide, flat, square kind of pan with a non-stick, black interior. He was cooking a few pieces of fish, some pieces of bare chicken, and some french fries. He was cooking them all in a ton of grease.

I thought to myself that it was good that Matte was cooking and eating this much protein. He really needed it. But I knew that that kind of diet would tie my weak stomach in knots. So I'd have to think of some diet of my own.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was possibly in a classroom. All the desks were arranged in a circle. The room was lit with kind of dull, greenish, fluorescent light. The class or meeting had ended, and everybody was headed out of the room. The room was empty as I left it.

There was a boy somewhere behind me. He was blonde, well-groomed, with a kind of effeminate bearing and voice. He had said something in class, and now he asked me, "Was I rude when I said that?"

I wanted to say yes, but I thought that would be wrong. So I said, "Well, you work so hard that nobody would think you were just plain rude. But people might think you were defensive."

Dream #2

I was walking along a sidewalk in a residential part of town. It was a sunny day, but there was snow on the ground. The snow had been cleared from the sidewalks and streets, but it was still piled up around the curbs and the grassy areas between the sidewalks and curbs. The snow piles were all wet and slushy from the sun.

I was apparently heading to a dance class (?). But, as I crossed a street and then walked past a glass-walled bus stop, I felt a bad headache and decided not to go to class. The headache was like a hard, concrete-like feeling in the back of my head. My eyes also felt sunken in, and I had a real drop in energy.

But I also felt like if I didn't go to dance class I would teach my teachers and classmates a lesson, as if they had done something to insult me and now I was paying them back.

I was apparently walking a few blocks, up a mild slope, to a train stop, possibly for one of the red trains, maybe the 2-train. I walked past either a college campus with red brick buikdings or a block of very nice, red-brick houses. There were tall trees shading the sidewalks.

A couple of tall, young, beautiful people were walking close behind me. The neighborhood may actually have been moderately busy with people overall. The people were joking about something they had done to a friend or colleague of theirs. They had taken something of his. When he got upset about it, they wondered why he could be so sensitive.

I passed another (or the same?) glass-walled bus stop. I now had in my left hand two bags from fast food restaurants. The first bag was from Dunkin' Donuts. It was a coffee. The second bag was from somewhere else. It was food, maybe even a donut.

I was getting close to the subway station. But suddenly I was in a vehicle like a big minivan. I was in the van with a few other people who acted or looked like subway passengers. The van was driving down concrete ramps that looked somewhat like ramps connecting different platforms in a subway station.

We kept going down. The area we were driving through looked like a mix between a subway station and a mall. There were stores like department stores and drug stores all through the corridors.

A big, muscular, kind of pale, white man who looked like a soldier sat somewhere across from me. But he also seemed, at times, to be driving this vehicle.

He told me and a couple other passengers, "When I'm driving a train, and they tell me we have to be delayed, I let everybody know exactly what's going on. I tell them, we'll be here for 28 minutes, and I countdown, and so on. That way people know.

"Some people like to keep passengers in the dark about what's going on. I think dispatch does, too! But I don't. When people don't know what's going on, they feel like the train will never start running again."

The man stopped the vehicle. We were really deep down by now. I saw the subway train off to the left. The front of it had a side door, like for a semi truck, which was swung open. I understood that the man was going to conduct the train.

I jumped out the left side of the van, but I landed outside on the right side of the van. For some reason I was worried about whether I had jumped out fast enough. I thought if I was too slow, the soldier would be impatient with me.

The area down here was also like a mall, and there were a lot of people lounging around like they would in a mall. I saw two big drugstore-like stores, one of which may possibly have been a bookstore. I thought that I might need to go to the store before I got on the train.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was leaving "my mother's house." It may have been a grey day, and there may have been snow on the ground. I stood right outside the front door. My mom stood just inside.

I told my mom I loved her. I gave her a hug. My mom seemed really short. When I hugged her, it felt like I was breaking her spine, or like I had hugged her in such a way as to feel a part of her spine that had already been broken.

I walked to the car. As I did, I thought about a small cup of ice cream I had in the back seat of the car. It was like I still had the taste of the ice cream, or even some actual ice cream, in my mouth.

In my mind's eye, I saw the ice cream sitting in the back seat. The ice cream was kind of melted and creamy, and it had some kind of big, marshmallow-shaped, but colorful and jelly-like, things in it. The spoon in the cup seemed to be coated with the melted ice cream.

Apparently my grandmother was driving me to the airport. But the car we were taking was more like one my mom would drive. It was a small hatchback, kind of old looking. It was messy on the inside and the outside. The outside was kind of grimy and greasy. The inside was full of old garbage and fast food containers and stuff.

I was kind of disgusted that I'd kept my ice cream in the messy back seat. I thought it might not be a good idea for me to eat the ice cream.

I walked up to the driver's side of the car. My grandma was still standing outside the car, with the door wide open. As I walked up to my grandma I either thought to myself or asked out loud if I'd showed my mom well enough that I cared about her.

I was in the car, on the passenger side, riding through a kind of busy part of a suburban town, with either my grandma or some man driving the car. It was now black night.

The driver told me, "You showed your mom you cared about her. And the fact that you're worried about it shows that you care a lot more than a lot of people do nowadays."

We got stuck in traffic on some kind of quaint-looking, Main Street type area that was all decked out in lights, as if for Christmas. We kind of inched through the traffic and then ended up turning right on a side street and up a hill into something like a residential area.

As we were doing this, the driver, now most likely a man, continued, "That reminds me of a project I was reading about. People were making Christmas cards to send to the soldiers. But a lot of the people making the cards thought it would be good to send cards with anti-war messages on them.

"And that's what I mean about care. The people over there don't need to hear somebody telling them 'NO WAR.' They need us to tell them, 'We're thinking about you, and we hope you're doing well.'"

We had gotten up to the top of the hill and were now sitting on the right end of a long conference table. We were apparently inside a room. The room had fluorescent lighting. There was also a wall-sized bookshelf that I was looking straight at.

But it was also somehow like we were in a cafe with a big window, or as if we were actually floating out over the top of the hill, looking down to the Main Street area. It was like, even as I was looking straight at the bookshelf, I also saw the town below.

The man had gotten onto the topic of two books. Both books were about economics. One book was written by someone I didn't know. The other was written by Warren Buffett. The man seemed to be talking more about the book by the other guy. He then ended up talking about something extremely interesting and insightful (which, of course, I forgot).

As the man spoke about the really interesting stuff, I realized how nice he looked. He was white, with well-groomed, white hair. He wore a nice suit with a tan jacket, a subdued blue shirt, and a somewhat colorful (peach? pink?) tie. His skin was deeply tanned. His face was kind of thin and angular. But his complexion mesmerized me. It was perfect!

I then asked the man, "Who did you say made that comment? Did you say it was Warren Buffett or the other guy?"

The man said, "No. That was from Warren Buffett's new book."

I thought to myself that I needed to get Buffett's new book. I seemed to keep getting Buffett somehow confused with Alan Greenspan. But I could see the cover of Buffett's new book. It kind of looked like a modern cover of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man.

The book wasn't an autobiography. It was actually a book on economic theory. I thought, "This is exactly what I've been looking for!" The man and I spoke back and forth for a bit on how odd it was that everybody didn't know about this book. It apparently wasn't selling much at all.

I looked down and to my left. I could see the conference table. But, again, I could "see through" the table and the room, outside and down the hill, to the lit-up Main Street area.

As I looked at the table, I was kind of hunched down and over some sheet (or pad?) of notebook paper. I scrawled on the piece of paper, in a very sloppy version of cursive, either the word "Feed" or the word "Feel."

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I had a huge beard. It just went along my jawline, so that the rest of my face was bare, except that I may also have had a mustache. The beard was maybe three inches long, made up of bushy, wiry hairs. It was pale, reddish brown. But it also seemed to be coated with some white, frosty stuff, like powdered sugar. The white stuff may actually have been the whiteness of the hairs. I may have thought about trimming my beard. I was surprised I had actually let it get this long.

Dream #2

I was talking with an older man. I needed to move out of my apartment, possibly because of violenced in the neighborhood as well as in the buidling itself. The man was telling me about some sort of hotel that also served as apartments for a lot of people.

I saw outside the apartments on a sunny day. The apartment buildings were smallish, maybe three or four stories tall, and made of red brick. Somewhere was the name of the hotel, something like French Hotels. The place looked okay, but it also seemed a little dumpy.

The older man and I were now inside one of the apartments. I wondered if this place would have bed bugs. As the man continued to talk to me about something, I considered checking under the mattress for bed bugs.

I was now by myself in some other apartment. It was a pretty big apartment, and it felt pretty lonely. I began to think about my current apartment and all the noise I had to deal with there. I thought to one place I'd lived in only recently, but for a few years, where I'd had no troubles with my neighbors, no noise. But, then, I remembered, that place had been a separate house, not an apartment.

I thought over what I'd just thought. It didn't make sense. I had been living in the apartment I was living in right now for a number of years. How could I have recently been living in a house for a number of years as well?

Dream #3

There was an outdoor camp. There were a lot of tents closely packed together outside. Bordering the left side of the tents was a big, concrete wall. Some soldiers stood on the wall or at some kind of watchtower that reached just over the wall.

A soldier was telling a woman, possibly an older, Asian woman, to be very careful in the camp. He may have told her not to leave her tent often and to keep an eye on her children. The soldier said that wild animals were still able to get into the camp.

The soldier said, "I don't mean that a dingo is going to eat your baby or anything."