Batch

07-20-2013 -- I'm on a college campus, taking a class. The instructor is assigning classwork and homework, and we're working on it. The overall class seems to be some sort of art class, but it spans a wide variety of artistic forms. The biggest thing is that, at the end of the semester, we are going to New York, where we will be making a red, white and blue balloon dress for the Statue of Liberty for some sort of patriotic celebration. I think during the course of the dream I attend three classes, but all three sort of flow together.

During the first class, several students show up for the class who just don't seem to be very into it, not paying much attention, showing little interest, and leaving early. The classwork is some very interesting reading and questions, and I am really into it and find that I am able to do an excellent job with them, and earn compliments for them. Unfortunately, before the class is over, I am called away to home for a few minutes to do something for my mom. Thankfully it doesn't take long, and I am soon back for the rest of the class. As it ends, I am trying to find all my papers and assignments, and hoping I don't get called away again, as it seems sort of unprofessional.

During the next class, some of the students are talking about others that were here for the previous class, but aren't here today, and they are the same ones who didn't really seem to be into things. One student is telling of one of them who supposedly left because he had to tutor another student in another subject, but the person telling the story insists the supposed tutor doesn't know the subject well enough to tutor a first grader and teach them anything. There is also some discussion about a somewhat cute brunette, probably about 16 or 17, that was here the last time, but isn't here now, but then she shows up with the gray haired professor (who looks kind of like a non-cartoon version of Lisa Simpson's band teacher), arguing almost violently with him about her being late, and her not having the assigned homework done. She seems to be demanding to know why he can't cut her some slack, and he finally loses it and almost screams at her "Because I'm the ogre ... erm ... teacher, that's why!" Then he tells her that she is well on her way to becoming an ogre, and we all start to chuckle. Then he puts her in charge of the whole class while he goes and runs some short errands, and we're suddenly no longer laughing!

The first part of the class is taking place in an almost bowl-shaped seating area just outside of the building the class officially takes place in, and we start by turning in the homework, which is one of those sort of adult coloring sheets, perhaps 11x17 or 12x18, with a black-lined image that one is supposed to color using fine markers or colored pencils. It is a picture of perhaps five generic super heroes in poses outside a building. Our assignment was to color it in, developing the heroes or the building or the scene ... whatever we were interested in. I concentrated on the heroes, designing their costumes and hinting at their powers, as many did, but some worked on the scene or the building. One didn't seem to have much time, and just took two colors and did what he wanted throughout with those colors, and left the rest in black and white.

The professor is handing out the classwork, and it doesn't seem to be nearly as in-depth or involved as the last time, but instead seems to be mostly ads for Universal Studios. Joking, I raise my hand and ask if this is a hint about our next field trip. He says actually they are trying to arrange a visit, but for now we are to compare and contrast the different ads and decide which ones work better, and why. Soon we move into the lecture hall and continue the class.

The teacher seems kind of disappointed with us as a class, because out of the entire class, only me and one other voted to do some extra prep work for this New York visit, and he worries we aren't taking the honor of being the ones tasked with making this massive balloon dress seriously enough.

One of the students in the class is another professor who is taking the course. She is a fairly attractive red head, perhaps about thirty five, with a reasonably nice figure. She is wearing a sort of orangish dress that comes down to just below her knees, kind of muted and professional, but she is doing some minor dance steps that hike it up two or three inches above the knee, before saying oops, she shouldn't show her legs like that or "..." (a student whose name I can't remember) will overheat himself. I don't quite follow the transition, but within minutes, this red headed professor is on her belly on the ground, showing off one of her favorite exercises, which somehow has her undulating like an earthworm. The thing about this is that it has her dress riding up her body and pooling around her waist, showing every inch of her luscious stocking-clad legs. Worse, something about the movements also causes her panties to not hold, and they go falling down her legs, flashing the entire class. Pleasantly shocked, one of the male students turns to glance at me and says "Did I just see ..." "Yes ... yes you did," I reply, while the ladies in the class are horrified, and all the men are trying to find a better viewing position.

Thankfully (or not), we're just about done for the day, so we start gathering up our things as the professor/student straightens out her clothes. She leaves, and goes to her office to gather the rest of her things, done with all classes for the day, and a few of us run into her again, near the parking lot. She still is going on about how much she loves that exercise, and ends up lying in the grass demonstrating it again to the great pleasure of some of us. This time the girls act, however, and are trying to pull her panties back up as she undulates. I'm just grinning as this already reasonably attractive professor becomes more and more so. For the first time in quite a while, I find I'm growing hot for teacher!

Soon the third class rolls around, and we are all back together again, though I am struggling to find my papers and supplies, which for some reason seem to be scattered all over the classroom. I find myself having to go through several stacks of other people's works to find the scattered remains of my own. But I don't really care, as very shortly the red head is doing her exercises again. Somebody comments on her form or something, and she shifts to look at them in such a way that has her plainly visible twat undulating inches from my face, and I can't help but think she has to know what she is showing, and to be doing so like this, she must be desperate for some attention. I might just have to give her some. Meanwhile, the young brunette student is getting tired of this, and seems to decide that she wants some attention, too. She suddenly starts talking about how she likes doing handstands ... while wearing a loose top that gathers around her neck, showing off her small (but still growing) breasts. Unfortunately, she doesn't have anything interesting enough to distract from the red head's salient point. You know, it is really too bad that I awoke at that point!

---

Earlier in the night had a long, involved dream, but of the kind that you can't remember many of the details. I know it involved a lot of super heroes or vampires or that sort of 'ultra-human' beings running around, but soon it kind of switched to less ... talented people, but just tough guys and gals. Not quite wrestler sorts, but tough fighters. One guy tries to grab me by the neck and flip me over his shoulder, but I see him coming and grab him at the same time, so we both flip each other, but as we lay on the ground, I am the one that recovers first, which kind of tells them to be a little wary of messing with me. After a while, when they are trying to determine a sort of ranking, they pair me with a kind of short guy. Not a midget, but like five feet tall or so. Very broad and muscular, though. We grapple for a few moments, and I throw him to the ground on his back kind of gently, so there is less chance of hurting him, but again showing I am not somebody to mess with. Two other small bits involve me somehow coming in with what I, and everybody else in the dream would swear is a jaguar kit, but it truly is as small as a kitten. Also, a lady who was a bit of a tough fighter, earlier in the dream, is now back, but cares nothing for fighting, but is only worried about finding her dogs, before they get lost or hurt. Strange stuff.

01-25-2013 -- [Earliest bits are faded, but much of the later bits I can remember pretty well. This dream came after about four hours of sleep, and actually involves waking up in the middle of it, and falling back asleep and going back into pretty much the same dream.] Earliest bits, I can barely remember hints of BC and Disney shows, probably at Videopolis. Then things shift to a setting of a kind of college campus crossed with the Cathedral-like setting with a huge stadium / lecture hall area in it that I have dreamed of, frequently. Though it also seems to be shifting into almost a warehouse setting.

Anyway, I have some of my stuff in a big semi-trailer sitting at the docks, though the set-up is kind of weird. Where the trailer meets with the tractor, the connection almost looks like a sort of top, with a screwdriver head for a power drill sticking out the bottom, and kind of floating just an inch or two above the tractor, somehow held in place by a self-generated energy field. I'm kind of unloading a couple of bags of my stuff that is on the trailer (kind of think of duffel bags and my old green hiking backpack), while I may be supposed to be keeping an eye on the truck.

Something seems to be going wrong, and at first a tiny bit of smoke seems to be rising from both ends of the trailer, but then it is getting thicker and darker, and it seems almost like a fire is starting to spring up. It seems to be growing and spreading, and I don't know what to do about it, so I start running to one of the nearby buildings to try and get some sort of help. There I find a security guard who asks me if I have run all the way across campus to properly notify the main office, and I'm thinking that with my size and shape, if I did that, the entire thing would have burnt down before I could get over there, and it would be very irresponsible of me. But that's what he thinks I should have done.

On the other hand, he gets some others, and they come back with me to the loading docks to fight the fire. It is getting worse, and we can see smoke and flames coming from the trailer, and the top seems to have stopped spinning, and is now making a sort of grinding sound as the screwdriver head on the bottom snaps out to a 45 degree angle, and the trailer collapses perhaps six inches to be right on the tractor. Those fighting the fire are now hosing water over everything.

Another truck has pulled in, absolutely ignoring us fighting this fire, and have started unloading their truck, and and dropping huge crates of supplies around and even on top of my duffel bags, and I am running around, trying to shift the crates or move them to be able to get my stuff, so the guys unloading the truck are trying to lecture me about how I am not part of the union, and am not allowed to help unloading the truck or something. Idiots.

So we're down in the loading bays, and it is wet, and hot, and sticky, and an utter mess. I glance over, and there is a sort of a square tunnel in the wall (kind of like the one tunnel in the old drainage ditch where it ran under Dale) and I think it leads somewhere where I can get out of the water. I walk through it rather quickly, and that was a mistake, because it turns out it was covered in spider webs, and I find myself covered in webs and dozens of big, dangerous spiders.

Thankfully, I am dressed in a thick, yellow firefighting suit, so the spiders can't reach me, and I am brushing the webs off, and crushing all the spiders against the suit, coating it in a green coating of slime. Once I manage to kill them all, I start to remove the suit, and then I am stupid enough to walk through the tunnel again, and get coated in spiders again. But I no longer have the suit on, and as I start to crush and scrape spiders off of me, they are all biting me.

Within moments, my hands start to swell up with these large blisters of bubbling and swelling flesh that get bigger and bigger before they pop, splattering ooze everywhere. It is very disgusting and halfway painful, and I am rushing to a sink, trying to wash everything off. Thankfully the tunnel leads into the university (or whatever this place is) hospital, and they help dealing with my hands, which are soon lightly wrapped in bandages.

But soon I am back out in the loading dock area, still trying to get my stuff, including managing to lift the trailer up a few inches, long enough to pull one of my bags out from under the collapsed end. [About this time I woke up, but since I was short on sleep, and sleeping poorly, I did not write the dream down, only tried to remember it, then drifted back to sleep, and back into more or less the same dream, though the loading dock was turning into more of a full warehouse than just a loading dock.]

Somehow they are unloading another truck or two, and among the things they are moving around, are a couple of beds, at least full-size, yet made up, and ready to sleep on. They pick them up, shift them, and then repeat. Oddly I see something flying through the air, and I immediately fire with a gun I am holding. Somehow it is a sort of a laser gun, and yet it ejects cartridges as it fires, and what I've shot turns out to be a bed flying through the air that crashes to the ground, by lands on its edge, standing up. Odd.

Somehow we're out in fields, with some low-growing, young plants along the lines of corn or something, and other fields that seem more like the wet rice fields. Some of them are the right kind, some of them are the wrong kind, and we are kind of walking between them, trying to cull the wrong kind and strengthen the right kind. Meanwhile there are two groups of us, and hints of two leaders that are friendly, yet opposed to one another (kind of like Tecumseh and the Prophet from the Alvin Maker tales).

Both groups are in the fields, and they are supposed to agree, but one of the brothers is trying to betray the other. The other calls all the people together, and calms everybody to stop the betrayal, but then he wanders off, because he needs some time to himself.

We are standing at the head of a sort of river, dotted with small islands, and the bad brother is trying to start up the betrayal again, by standing by the river and trying to part the water, like Moses. But he can't do it very well. He doesn't have the power or support, so he can only part a few yards of water.

The other brother isn't there to stand against him, so I step in, hold out another staff, and gesture for the Prophet (who now seems to be a third group) to speak, and he leads both groups to walk along the banks of the river, one on each side, and to be separate, rather than fighting each other, and they go off, kind of embarrassed.

01-06-2013 -- [What fragments I had earlier in the night didn't seem worth remembering, but I know there was something about mom being around, and dad being dead, stuff at the Church of the Nazarene, and something about Anne and I being friendly with each other. I don't get why she is in my dreams so much, recently. I haven't seen her in years, haven't thought about her except in my dreams, and have no desire to have anything to do with her anymore. But the last few nights she keeps popping into my dreams.]

I find myself at college, sitting for finals on two classes that I have never once attended through the year. This is my last chance to do something which might be able to salvage my grades. I think one class is a civics class, and the other may be a math class.

Anyway, for the Civics final, I have to write a paper on what I would consider the perfect form of government, if money were no issue. I know what my beliefs are on government, and I think this ought to be easy, but every time I am about to write something, I think of more things to consider.

I am planning on writing something in favor of a Rand-ist, Objectivism pro-business government and system, which is what I believe in, both in my dreams, and in real life, but I also keep coming back to the issue of big corporations with CEOs who make billions while they try to pay their workers minimum wage (or less), and while the system allows this, it still isn't right.

[This could lead to a big argument on how no government system could ever work, because people quite simply suck! Communism is a good system in theory but can't work in practice because of human nature. Some are going to take charge and abuse the system while making others do all the work. Capitalism is the best system, but still the exact same thing happens. Our current liberal system with all the welfare and things fails for the same reasons, and in the same way as communism. All systems fail, and for the same reasons. Humans suck! So ends the soap box.]

By this time, three fourths of the testing period is over, and I still haven't written anything, and the teacher is trying to talk me into just giving up, taking an F for the class, and leaving. But I am still convinced I can write something good enough to salvage my grade. Meanwhile, time keeps passing, and I think I am now in the middle of the testing period for the second class, still trying to write the paper for the first class.

In some odd was that makes no sense, I soon find myself picking up and throwing down either a bust, or a broken bit of statue, again and again. I am kind of doing weight lifting with it, and must have been doing so for a while, because I have really built up my strength and stamina, and have some pretty serious muscles.

Then I find myself in what seems to be a bar, but I am with the choir, and they are doing a concert. I haven't been around for rehearsals, and am not a part of it, but as they start singing, I find it is all Gaither songs, and I can't help but sing along. We're now several songs in, and one has just finished, and somebody is on a bar stool next to me. I think it is Laura S., and she leans to me and very nastily tells me to either quit singing, or get out! Even though I've been singing great because I know all the Gaither songs perfectly. [Don't think I have ever exchanged a cross word with her, no idea where this dream bit came from.]

Without a word, I bend to pick up my backpack, and start to leave. She calls after me that Carl has things to do, so can't give me a ride home, and something about being ready on time on Sunday if I want a ride to church? She didn't think so! And I really don't have a clue why she is upset with me, but I must not have a car, currently, from all she is saying.

I walk out of the church, and it turns out to be the church in Buena Park, and I start to walk home. It's only a couple of miles, not all that far. I pass through Servant's Heart, where they are talking about one of the people now constantly visiting or living at Rosemary's (the tall guy with curly black hair) and they are saying something about how they gave him some money and he went out and got sloshed on it ... never again money for him.

By this point, I have walked through the flower neighborhood down to Dale, and have reached La Palma, and am preparing to jaywalk across to Food King, but the traffic is really heavy. Right about when I am going to bolt across, a car pulls up. It has nothing to do with me, but since I know the person, I stop and say hi. It is Tracey M (also from choir) who is either picking up or dropping off somebody.

Soon I make it across the street, and soon make it home to the Hickory house, where I head into the house and move to my first bedroom, where I plan to go to sleep. I am remembering just a tiny bit about whatever the earlier bit here at the Hickory house was about, and how at least dad wasn't alive in the dream, so it is catching up with reality. Meanwhile, there is a cat in my room, and I am trying to pet it, but it seems to be a stray, so it is skittish, probably has fleas, and it isn't one I know.

[When my dad died, I kept having weird dreams that he came back to help me with my mom's death. Once mom died too, then either parent might show up in my dreams, dead, alive, as a ghost, as having faked their own death, or back in time, before they died, so none of the above applied. Oddly, by the end of this dream I was a little kid, so they would have both been alive, yet I was glad my dreams were catching up enough to remember dad was dead.]