Batch

07-17-2013 -- Short but fun. I seem to be kind of hanging out at Robbie's house as a late teen, while there are a lot of wild little kids running around yelling and screaming, and somehow doing weird science stuff. One of them has somehow created a creature that is half-chicken and half-rabbit. It is really cute, but almost instantly reproduces, so there are more and more of the critters running around by the second.

Robbie's younger sister (he doesn't have a younger sister AFAIK, but it wasn't Tina, his older sister) is keeping an eye on them. She is a sweet young woman, and kind of attractive. She is dressed in very loose shorts and a tank top and has her legs spread as she sits on the car hood in the garage, and I suddenly realise I can see her bush and her pussy lips. Nice view. But she's had enough of the craziness, so somehow vanishes all the chickens before she stalks off.

There's now an older woman wandering through, trying to calm down the kids, and I find myself petting Black Lightning, my cat, even though she died almost a decade ago. I am thinking of leaving when I find a bee and a wasp flying around me, and before I can get away, each one stings me in one of my feet. Don't have to worry about it on the wasp, but I am trying to get a grip on the bee stinger to try and remove it.

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07-16-2013 -- I am standing on the corner of La Palma and Stanton when BM drives by in her new mobile home. Unfortunately she is not paying enough attention and lets somebody run into her, crunching part of her vehicle. Meanwhile, I have stopped by to see her, but she doesn't want to see me, and tells me she doesn't need me to do balloons anymore. There is a bit of a stuck up punk here that is challenging her to a contest to blow up a Mickey Mouse balloon, and when she pops it while trying to squeeze air into one of the ears he laughs at her, even though he did the same thing at the same point.

After that, he tells her he has a balloon gig for her in an hour, if she is sure she can be ready on time, and she agrees, even though she has to go home, put on hr clown face and costume, and make it to the location of the gig in such a short time. So she is off at high speed, and more accidents are happening as she drives off, though I manage to avoid being in any of them.

07-16-2013 -- I find myself driving around in Cambridge, England (at first) though slowly it morphs to London, England. I have no map, I just seem to know the general layouts of the streets from all my past dreams here. While I am still in Cambridge, I find myself thinking I might go visit Diane Farrow for a bit (the person who provided a room for me while I spent a sememster studying in England). I think she is just a couple blocks away, but as I am traversing those couple blocks, the shift to London occurs.

I am soon driving up a hill in a little yellow car, but end up having to stop because there is a lorry sprawled across the roadway unloading Subway sandwiches for the large church we are driving past, but doing so very slowly. I am considering trying to back up out of the area, but a huge tractor trailer has pulled up behind me, and he is already trying to back up, and pulverising a couple of parked cars in the process, so I think I'd just better wait a bit. Soon the Bobbies have arrived, and are threatening the unloaders to get a move-on, so things finally start to clear up.

As I head further up the hill and prepare to make a right turn from the right lane I am in to the right lane of the street I am turning on, I am mentally congratulating myself for remembering to drive on the left. [I'm not, I'm driving on the right but calling it the left. But so is everybody else in the dream, so eh ....] Soon I have parked the car (in London? Now I know I am dreaming) and am walking along on foot, considering inexpensive things like walking tours, since I have somehow made this trip to England with almost no money. Dale has found a church where they will let us sleep in the pews at night, but right now it is the middle of the day, and they are about to provide a meal.

There are some odd theme park-like queue lines that involve climbing up and around scenery, and somehow Dale has gotten several places ahead in line, and I am trying to catch up. Oddly, somebody behind me in the line starts to cut my hair, trimming out the oddly dyed pink bits that I somehow know I got in another dream, even if I can't remember such a dream.

I'm now around the back side of the church, wandering around two or three large buildings, and the queues have dispersed and Dale is not in sight, so I am trying to figure out where to go. The building directly ahead of me somehow looks a bit too fancy to be where destitute tourists would eat, so I keep walking, and soon find myself right behind a guard who seems to be preparing for a visit from the queen, and is really starting to question my presence here. He eventually sics a large German Shepherd on me, and I end up wrestling with the dog, but he doesn't really try to hurt me, just chews on my hand a little bit, and is a friendly sort ... to me.

Soon I find I have circled the entire building, and am back near the posh entrance that I doubted was the right one. This time I continue up to the entrance and find myself in a sort of buffet line, being offered all kinds of meat that might be somewhat common in England, but it much less so in America, such as venison, lamb and the like. But I never do catch up with Dale.

07-16-2013 -- This one starts off with mom somehow driving me to church at the Buena Park Church of the Nazarene, though I have no idea what she drove me in. We park in the parking lot, and head inside for services. The church is very crowded and there isn't a lot of room in the pews. I head up near the choir loft, but I have no voice, so I know I can't sing with them. For some reason I don't feel much like a full, organized church service today anyway, so I take one of the hallways to the back of the building and up the stairs to where we used to meet as teens.

I figure I'll find an empty room and just kind of hide out and read my Bible, but they've converted the entire upper floor into a single huge room without even a corridor, and I know I don't belong there. They are (politely) throwing out another adult who doesn't belong, but I turn around and head back down the stairs without needing to be asked to leave. I walk out the back door and just stand there for a minute or two, looking at the freeway and wondering if I want to walk home from here, remembering some of the trouble I have run into doing so in past dreams.

While I am thinking about this, a huge bus pulls on to the median and stops, across the way on the freeway, and Brazilian tourists come flooding off. For some reason they are pulling down the fence separating the freeway from the road, and soon they are storming across the road to where I am standing. It must be the Christmas season, because both of the rear doors have strings of lights around them, and three huge colored light bulbs, as well, and for some reason the Brazilians decide they are going to steal our Christmas decorations.

I try to stop them, but there are too many. I threaten to call 911, but they laugh at me and say they'll be gone long before the police can get here, and start back to their bus, our decorations in hand. They seem to have trouble with the bus, though, and can't leave as quickly as they want to, and I rush across the street to try and see the license plate of the bus before it drives off, but it moves too quickly for me, causing another accident.

Almost instantly after that, the police arrive, trying to find out what they can about the accidents, and the bus that just drove by. I try to tell them about the tourists and the perloined Christmas decorations, but they don't want to listen, feeling the accident is much more important to investigate. I try to explain it was the same bus, and give them my information, but they refuse to hear me and I finally stalk off in disgust, and walk back to the church to talk to the assistant pastor, Terry. I apologize for 'losing' the decorations, and he admits it is not that important, and decides perhaps they needed them more than we did.