maboroshi

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was watching TV. The Jacksons had all gotten together for a concert. Michael Jackson was being driven across the stage with one of his brothers, I think, in something like a parade float that had the shape of a high-heel shoe. The stage was empty otherwise. The shoe and the background of the stage were empty.

It took me a moment to realize that Michael actually looked a little strange. He was wearing a suit, like in Moonwalker, except that he wasn't wearing a jacket or hat. The slacks were khaki, and the shirt was white with red pinstripes. Michael also looked like an old man -- with kind of sunken, worn-out flesh.



Then I finally noticed that Michael was bald, except for on the sides and the back of his head. But the hair he had was dyed blonde and done in a ragged, almost standing-up kind of style.

I knew that rumors had been going around about Michael Jackson being bald. But he'd always denied the rumors. Now in this show he was coming out as being bald.

I was apparently in some basement watching the TV. I ran up the stairs. My friend H was upstairs, possibly watching TV in the ground-floor living room. I told H that Michael Jackson had finally come out as being bald. But H wasn't surprised at all. I went back downstairs, somewhat disappointed. I thought I was going to give H some new information. But I didn't.

I may have been watching the TV again. I could see old pictures of Michael with long hair. The top views of his head showed obviously thinning hair. Eventually, I knew, these images had become too obvious, and Michael just had to admit he was going bald.

But, I thought, this whole thing could be just another one of Michael's characteristic, weird disguises. He could just have done himself up as an aging, balding man for this show. I knew that Michael had disguised himself in weirder ways in the past. So I wouldn't put it past him to disguise himself in this way.

I now got the feeling that I'd actually met Michael Jackson. I thought that this was possible. When he was disguised, Michael Jackson could walk around anywhere and introduce himself to anyone without them knowing who he was.

I got the feeling that when I'd met him, he'd been disguise as a really old person or a person in really bad shape. He'd looked frightening and gross. But you could see that his eyes were really his eyes, and something about that had made things even worse.

But I may then have thought that I actually hadn't ever met him. I thought that if had really met someone like that I would have been so frightened that I wouldn't even have been able to control myself. I even hoped that I would never have to meet someone like that in my life.

Dream #2

I was in a bedroom with my second oldest nephew. There were two women in the room with us. Both women were really attractive brunettes.

The room was dim, with walls, or at least the edges of the walls, in heavy, dark wood. The walls themselves may actually have been Asian-style, paper-thin. I could feel a narrow, dim hallway outside.

The two women were apparently our teachers. One teacher was going to take me to do some task. The other was going to take my nephew.

But for some reason, when my teacher walked out of the room, I didn't follow her. My nephew's teacher was talking to my nephew. She may then have said something to me, like she was here to teach my nephew, not me.

I may have said something like, "Oh, yeah, I see." I may then have decided I needed to find my own teacher.

I think my nephew's teacher then walked out of the room. My nephew and I were standing in the room, talking with each other for a bit. My nephew must have been telling me a joke. I remember him laughing as he spoke.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was with a big group of people. We were in an area that looked like the large reading room of the New York Public Library. But it was also something like a high school gymnasium. The group I was with was probably a church group, though it may have been part of a church-school.

I was up on a balcony level, crouched down or sitting down near the floor. There were a few other people up here with me, including a teacher, who sat behind me.

We looked down on the main area, where a lot of other people were. That area may have been floored with brownish gym mats. There may have been an occasional school desk. There were a decent amount of students down there. Everything felt kind of cluttered.

We had all been given a lesson by somebody who was probably speaking into a microphone from some pulpit at the other end of the room from those of us on the balcony. It was some lesson about Christian history.

We now had to do an in-class exercise based on the lesson. The exercise was some kind of role-playing game. I think we all had to imagine ourselves as some saint, who had been the subject of the lesson. We then had to imagine ourselves into the environment of the saint.

A classmate of mine, a boy maybe eleven or twelve years old, wanted me to come with him on the role-playing game. I was probably going to go along with him.

But my teacher, a pretty, blonde woman, yanked me back from the boy. She told me the boy was distracting me. The teacher told me I was going to come with her.

I looked behind the teacher to the area I knew we were going to: some kind of stage-like area on the left wall of the room, where there were other kids sat out on the floor with papers, studying or doing their lesson exercise.

I was now in some kind of hallway-like space with my teacher. The hallway was like an old, narrow, seldom-visited corridor in a natural history museum.

We sat on the floor -- actually, I think my teacher was laying on her stomach. My teacher had a book, some kind of history of poetry. She may have read some of it to me. She may then have asked me either to read some to her, or to give her a reaction to what she'd read. She handed me the book.

I could see that the text was about the seventeenth century British poet Abraham Cowley. But the pages looked like they were from some kind of illustrated Bible for kids. There was a drawing, almost coloring-book-style, of biblical mountains running across the top half of one set of pages.

I told my teacher a little bit of my own thoughts about Abraham Cowley. I liked him, and I thought it was unfair that he'd fallen into obscurity.

I then read the bottom lines of the left-hand page of the book. It mentioned how somebody in the eighteenth century had "single-handedly" rescued Cowley from oblivion. It took me a long time to read this. But I finally got the idea that the person referenced was Samuel Johnson.

My teacher was now slightly around the corner from me, and up on a very small platform, elevated about 20cm above the floor. I lay on my stomach and stared at a beautiful, Gothic-style, wood wall as I gave my teacher some of my own thoughts on Cowley.

It was hard for me to speak -- my brain was really groggy. But I said, "Well, you know, now that Cowley's rescued from oblivion, everybody thinks he's just great. But I don't think he's free from faults. I love his Mistress poem cycle. But his Odes are kind of flat, in my opinion."

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a living room with my little brother. There was probably a sharp, but pale incandescent lamp on somewhere. A TV was blaring on a small TV stand. And the living room was littered here and there with things like blankets and clothes.

My brother was being really annoying in some way or another. At one point he was really annoying me by doing some weird kind of walk away from me and then back to me really fast, as if he were going to crash into me.

Eventually I just tried to ignore my brother altogether, and I started trying to pay more attention to the TV. But then I felt bad for treating my brother so coldly. So I figured that if he started acting nice to me, I'd be nice to him, too.

My brother now came up to me and asked me if he could take a look at my phone. He was just curious to see what it had on it. Having told myself I'd be nice to my brother, I handed my phone to my brother.

My brother walked over to the couch and sat down with my phone. A little while later my brother was standing up and walking around the room, doing some other stuff.

I was wondering where my phone was. My brother may have told me he'd left it by the couch. I saw it on a desk that stood before the couch. I grabbed it.

I saw that I had either an email message or a text message from somebody (or a few people?). I was about to look at the messages. But my brother, looking at his own phone, at the other end of the living room, said, "Oh, did I just get a message from ----? Saying -----?"

This was the person I'd just gotten a message from, and the subject of the message the person had sent me. My brother said something else to make me understand that while he had been "looking" at my phone, he set it so that any texts or emails I received would be automatically forwarded to his phone.

I was really mad. I didn't want my brother in all of my business. I felt like it was stupid to give my brother my phone in the first place -- even if I had thought I should have been nicer to him. But I was mostly concerned with how to stop my phone from forwarded all my info to my brother.

Dream #2

I was on an indoor basketball court with a group of boys. But I'm not sure whether we were playing a game, or just waiting around for some other people to lead us in some kind of event. I'm pretty sure we were all milling around. I was just milling around by myself.

I saw the basketball hoop and wondered if I could jump and touch the rim. I'd never been able to do it before. But I felt like maybe I could now.

The rim seemed a bit higher than normal, and it was a really bright orange. The net was also torn to shreds, so that now only a couple ratty inches hung below the rim.

As I was getting ready to jump, a bunch of the boys all gathered around me. It was like they had all suddenly decided to start playing a game.

I felt a bit self-conscious now that all these other boys were around me. I had thought that maybe I could jump and touch the rim. But now I knew I probably couldn't.

But I also having a hard time even jumping, because I was getting all tangled up in all the other boys who were trying to play a game. But, at the same time, I was already in the air, and so absurdly high in the air -- yet nowhere near the rim -- that all the boys were already beneath my feet.

One of the boys said something like, "Oh, he's trying to touch the rim! Let's see if we can do it! Or let's see if we can do a slam dunk!"

Apparently now the other boys were now already doing slam dunks and touching the basketball hoop's rim, while I was apparently still floating my way on up toward it! (But strangely enough, I don't think, all throughout this dream, that I actually ever saw one of these boys.)

Finally I reached the tattered net of the hoop. I grabbed onto it and pulled myself up to the rim.

The other boys were now saying things like, "Oh, look! He's holding onto the rim! Is he going to try to do a slam dunk?"

I didn't really know what I was going to do. I didn't know where to go from here. I didn't know how to get down. I felt like I was up way too high.

But now I thought I should climb down. First I did this by inching my hands down the couple inches of tattered net.

Then I saw a pole in front of me. It was like a brass coat rack, or some kind of lightpost. It had one central pole. And off from the pole, on either side, set one below the other, like rungs on a ladder, were little loops of brass. But every once in a while the brass of this structure was black, like it was coated in a think layer of tar or plastic.

I started climbing down this pole. As I did, I noticed that on the other side of the pole was something like a shopping mall. Apparently this indoor basketball court was right in the middle of a shopping mall.

About twenty meters away, there was also a long folding table, at which sat three or four older adults, nicely dressed and very serious looking. I could tell these were the judges. Whatever event the boys and I were at, we were going to be judged on our performance.

All this time, the boys were saying, "Oh, look! Now he's going to climb down!" I climbed down to about two or three meters above the ground. There were no more rungs on the pole. So I either had to jump down or slide down. I think I chose to slide down, even though I may have thought that I was still climbing down.

When I got down, one of the boys (whom I'm pretty sure I didn't see) warned me, "We aren't supposed to be climbing on the pole. You're gonna get in trouble when the judges come!"

I was kind of shocked. I looked up at the pole, which now seemed extremely thin and weak, as if my weight should probably have snapped it off at its base.

I wondered when the judges would come, and what kind of trouble I'd get into. But I also wondered what the heck I was supposed to do, anyway. How was I supposed to have gotten down from the rim, if I wasn't allowed to climb down the pole?

Dream #3

I was in a movie theatre, I think, watching a movie. I already had some idea of the plot of the movie. I knew it was about two girls, probably sixteen or seventeen years old, who, after some kind of accident, were now able to see into a different world.

This world was either a different dimension or the dream world. But the girls would see the dream world or different dimension in waking life, while they were going about their normal lives.

It was like the different dimension or the dream world was overlaid on our world, but invisible to most people. According to what I knew of the plot, the two girls now had to fight some battle in the middle of the two worlds to save our world.

I was now watching the beginning of the movie, which was kind of showing the origin of the two girls' powers.

The girls were out driving on a highway at night. The streetlamps over the highway were different-colored, like lights on a stage at a rock concert.

One of the girls was a troublemaker. I think this was the girl driving. She looked kind of like the avatar Mayatara has on the Dream Views site, of the girl with the white flash coming from her third eye -- except, of course, without the white flash.

I think the other girl was a troublemaker, too, but not as much as the first girl.

But now another car drove up, first really closely tailgating the girls' car, then finally driving up right beside the driver's side of the girls' car. This car was like a 1970s style car, green, but with a big, white racing side across each side.

The drivers of this car also appeared to be girls, about the age of the main character girls. But the audience was supposed to get the feeling that the girls in the green car were demons from the other world, sent to make the two girls angry, so they'd do something stupid that would lead to their own destruction. Apparently the demons of the other world already knew that the two girls were going to work to save the two worlds.

So the girls in the green car began really agitating the two girls. Eventually the girl driving just told the girls in the green car to screw off. The girl stepped really hard on the gas, speeding way up ahead of the green car.

But now one of the girls in the green car pulled out a gun and began shooting at the main girls' car! But when she shot her gun, a whole bunch of stuff came out with the bullet. The bullet, actually, didn't get very far. But the other stuff did, breaking through the back window of the main girls' car.

There was something like a centerless coin, or a washer, among all this stuff. The camera closed in really tightly on the washer and followed it in slow motion. The washer hit the left temple of the girl in the passenger seat. It hit with the same speed of a bullet, but the impact didn't do more than just knocking the girl out.

The girl in the driver's seat saw that her friend (maybe they were more than friends?) had just been injured. Now she was really ticked off!

The green car pulled up beside the girls' car. The girls in the green car were now wild -- bashing and pounding against their own car windows, almost like caged wolves trying to attack a person outside.

But the girl was so angry she just wanted to kill the girls in the green car. The highway was now driving on an overpass that went high over a wide, black river. The girl figured she'd just smash the green car right off the highway and into the river.

The girl began slamming and slamming against the green car. Eventually she drove the car right off the highway. But somehow the demons had a hand in this, too. And the girl's car went off the highway, too.

I watched as both cars plunged into the river. I thought to myself, It doesn't make sense that this is happening. How can these two girls go on fighting with their powers if they're dead? But they must be going to die. There's no way they could survive something like this.

The camera view was now of the girls in their car. The second girl was probably still knocked out. The first girl was possibly trying to find a way to save her friend and herself.

But the girls' car was probably right up on the side of the demons' car, so that the driver's side window of the girls' car was right next to the passenger side window of the demons' car.

The demon-girl on the passenger side of the car now bashed on her window to get the girl's attention. The girl looked over. The demon-girl now let something go from herself, an aura-esque, holographic kind of expansion of herself, which may also have morphed into a demonic shape.

I think I now got the idea that this was what had given the two girls their power. The demons may actually not have been against the girls. But the only way the demon girls could have given the girls their powers was by putting them into a situation like this.

I was now sitting outside, in a hallway between movie theatres. I sat on a couch-like bench. Just to my left was a doorway to another movie theatre. And just to the left of that, I think, was a small concession stand.

The hallway was well-lit, with peach-orange walls. And, far down to my left, at the end of the hallway, was a smallish window letting in a lot of light from the grey day outside.

A guy, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, stood to my left. He was white, with his head shaved, but some black stubble now growing back onto it. He also had a shadow of stubble on his cheecks, even though he may have had a pretty full mustache and some pretty full hair below his bottom lip.

The guy wore a green t-shirt with white lettering on it. He wore a long-sleeved shirt under that. He wore slightly baggy, black jeans. The guy, I somehow knew, was a popular movie critic. He may have had some blog that everybody paid attention to, when it came to movies, even though I hadn't ever read it before.

The guy seemed lost in some way or another. Since he seemed lost, and since he was famous, I figured that maybe I would see if I couldn't help him. If I helped him, maybe he'd be able to help me get a job.

But the guy was only concerned because his friends still hadn't arrived for the movie yet. There seemed now to be a whole bunch of people standing around the guy, as if they were all standing in line to get into a movie.

I told the guy not to worry. The movie didn't start until 2:53. So he still had plenty of time to wait here for his friends. But somebody near us was saying, in a kind of tone of urgency, that he and whoever he was with had to get to the theatre. The movie had started at 2:35. So they were already late. And the guy didn't want to miss any more than he'd already missed.

I got kind of panicked, too. I'd been excited to see this movie, too! But I thought it started at 2:53, not 2:35! I looked at my watch (? - don't wear one). It was 2:53 right now! That meant I'd already missed a lot of the movie!

I ran down almost to the end of the hallway, to get to my movie theatre. As I ran in, I saw that the movie had already started. I was coming in after the whole origins scene had come and gone.

Now I'd never know how the girls had gotten their powers! This had been my biggest question!

The theatre itself was kind of disordered, as if there were a lot of parents their with their little kids. So each family, or maybe small group of families, was in their own little space, making clumps of noisy areas, and whole sections of empty seats.

But a lot of the audience didn't even seem to be focused on the movie. The atmosphere was like a big picnic inside of a movie theatre.

I went up toward the front of the movie theatre and sat near a blonde business woman wearing a white blouse and khaki-colored skirt or trousers. The woman's hair was really thick and flowing. The woman may have been in her early forties. She may somehow have acknowledged me and then gone back to watching the movie.

The scene was now a daytime scene. A man and a woman, maybe in their late thirties or early forties, were out on some promenade on the side of the same river that the girls had crashed into.

The man and the woman were both teachers at the high school the two girls went to. The man had a kind of Joe Piscopo look about him: curly, brown-red hair, kind of tan face, but a little reddish, too. But he looked a little more worn out by life, and he had slimmer, paler eyes.

The man was telling the woman that she needed to stop messing around with the two girls. Apparently the woman had been in the car with the two girls during the crash into the river.

The man was telling the woman that things the woman had lately been involved with with the two girls -- some kind of weird adventures that the man vaguely knew about, but which generally appeared to the world like nothing but close scrapes with trouble -- were hurting the woman.

The adventures the woman was involved in, the man said, were distracting the woman from teaching her students. And if she got too distracted from her role as a teacher, there were people in the administration department of the school who would be more than happy to fire her.

The woman listened to the man and sympathized with him. But she couldn't really do anything about it. It was fate. She was meant to have the adventures she was having.

I knew that the woman had been sitting in the backseat when the car had gone into the river. She had received only a part of the power that the two girls had received. But she'd received enough to see what kind of trouble the two worlds were in.

And she had a part in saving the two worlds. So she didn't have a choice. Regardless of what happened to her, she had to have her adventures. She wished that she could tell the man about all of this. But the man could only know so much. And so he'd just have to be worried for the woman.

I could see that, off to the right, the main girl was walking toward the promenade from a stone bridge that crossed the river. I could tell that the girl was already seeing a new batch of holographic demons. I could tell that a new fight was already about to begin, and that the woman would be involved.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I walked up something like a wooden ramp or a wooden deck that was in front of some kind of run-down beach house or shack made of wood. I may have been in a line with people.

I was now in a classroom. The desks in the classroom seemed all crammed together. We were all preparing for some kind of test like the SATs. I looked up from my study material and saw JW, my old friend from high school, studying for the test.

I made some kind of weird comment in a weird voice that I thought would remind him of our high school days. JW recognized me, but he only ackowledged me briefly and reluctantly. I was a little hurt.

Some voice called from behind me. I turned around. Another friend of mine, who I didn't recognize, was trying to get my attention. This guy was from some more recent time in my life. He may have been overweight, with tan skin, black hair in a ponytail, a goatee, and glasses. I was kind of put out that JW wouldn't talk to me, while this guy would.

Now the test was about to begin. The teacher was doing something. I made some kind of immature joke. The class' and teacher's attention were drawn to me. The teacher may have asked me something. I may have responded with a dumb answer that was a smart alecky way of saying I didn't know anything.

The teacher said, "What a disappointment. I thought you were one of the bright ones. I was looking for someone to give a presentation on how to take this test. I thought it was going to be you. But I guess not, now."

Apparently, we all had to go somewhere else to take the test. We were all walking through some area.

Later, I think I had decided not to take the test after all. I was somewhere that was half outside and half inside. I stood on some barren soil. A pit as long as my body and a few feet deep was dug into the soil. I sat down into the pit. I began pulling the dirt down onto myself.

I buried my legs pretty quickly. I started to wonder if I would suffocate if I managed to pull dirt all over my body, which was, I think, my objective. I may have gotten afraid. I may have pulled myself up out of the pit. As I looked down at the soil, the soil may have seemed disgusting to me, like it was feces.

Dream #2

I was in a high school, walking down the steps of a stairwell. A white kid kind of dressed like a gangster came up the steps and punched me in the face. I dropped my books. The kid kept attacking me, but I tried to ignore him. I picked up my books and walked the rest of the way down the stairs.

I got around a corner, into some place like a classroom. For some reason I looked back out around the corner, into the stairwell. The kid punched me in the face again!

Dream #3

I was in my bedroom. A strange, white animal was crawling across the floor. It was moving somewhat quickly. I thought it might be a mouse. But it had such a strange look, like a slug.

I was interested in the animal, but I didn't want it in my house. It seemed to be heading out the door of its own accord. I watched it as it approached the door. But just before it got to the door it turned back around.

I now got on the floor and tried to scare the animal away. But I only seemed to make it curious about me. It came closer, so I figured I might as well try to learn what kind of animal it was. It turned out to be very much like a white mouse with grey ears. But something about it still looked not quite right. I wondered if I actually wasn't looking at a baby rat.

Good morning, everybody. I slept 11 hours last night. I think I'm finally over my freaking cold. And ready for a new one to get me, I guess. Ugh...

Dream #1

I was in "my bedroom," which was a lot like my waking-life bedroom, except that it had, I think, green walls and really dusty floors. The light in the room was dim, as if some faint light were coming from some other room.

I saw a very skinny roach, about 5cm long, crawl across my floor. It looked all shrivelled up and dry, blackish-grey, not like a "healthy" (eww...) roach at all.

I began to aim for the roach, to kill it. But it darted away. I looked for it and found it again, in an extremely dusty spot between some boxes and a wall. But it got away again.

I had some toilet paper in my hand now. Apparently I was going to smash the roach with toilet paper. I found the roach again. This time it was climbing up a wall.

But I wasn't exactly sure that I was seeing it. I kept squinting and slowly walking closer and closer, to make sure that what I was seeing was actually the roach.

Dream #2

I was sitting in a desk near the front of a classroom. The classroom was lit with a dim, grey light. I sat near the right wall, facing the left wall. Most of the rest of the class was facing the front wall. The room was packed with students.

Everybody was quiet and listening to the teacher. The teacher was a tall, thin, white man, slightly balding, with grey-white hair, and squarish eyeglasses.

The teacher was giving some sort of lecture which may have been on film or some kind of performing art. But I wasn't paying attention. I had a big, fat book in front of me. I was huddled over it, elbows on my desktop, "taking notes" (I.e. scribbling) in the margins.

The teacher lifted the book off my desk and presented it to the rest of the class. I saw that the title of the book was "An Essay on Art and Love," and that it was by Karl Marx. The cover of the book was like a deep blue sky full of stars, with some kind of drawing in a circle in the center of the cover.

The teacher said, "Now, you see, (he said my name) is actually reading a book! Which shows he's paying attention in class! Everybody else needs to pay attention, too."

(I obviously, however, had not been paying attention in class. I don't even remember what the teacher was talking about.)

The teacher had now stopped his lecture and was apparently walking around, checking on how the students were doing. I went back to doing my own thing, a little embarrassed and upset that undue "good attention" to me had been paraded before the class.

The teacher now addressed a young, white man with fair skin and long, brown hair. The boy wore a black, wool cap and a baggy, black t-shirt with some kind of punky, black-and-white photo-print on it. The kid was slouched in his desk as the teacher addressed him.

The teacher said, "(The kid's name, which was the same as my name), I really hope you can learn, sooner or later, to stop making smart aleck comments in class whenever I say something you disagree with. It makes the whole class laugh at me and take your side."

I thought that was an odd argument for the teacher to make against the young man. I actually thought the kid was pretty funny, even though he was kind of distracting.

(Note: I seriously don't think Marx wrote anything about Art and Love. That would seriously cramp Marx' style.

I think this book is a mish-mash of my own thoughts. I've lately been reading the porn-philosophy book Juilette by the Marquis de Sade. A lot of people say the book is just porn and justification for doing all kinds of wacky things.

Reading the book, I kind of disagree, and I've lately thought to myself that the book could be read side-by-side with Karl Marx' Capital and Leo Tolstoy's The Kingdom of God Is within You. They all three address something about the bipolarity of society.

So my dream life decided, apparently, to take that mish-mash and run with it. And now Marx is a romantic artist somehow... Okay...)