Blue_Opossum

Morning of April 28, 2014. Monday.



There are three dreams in which there are no seriously more unusual or bizarre aspects as is sometimes the case. Still, they all take place in “wrong” locations relative to now as well as where people had actually been in the past in some cases.

In one, my wife and I are living back at Clayfield in our first apartment. There are a few mixed stacks of mostly plastic-coated place mats, photographs, and maps (I think more place mats than anything else). There are so many, I put some under the bed to go through later. My wife has a stack of smaller “screens” (tapestry canvases) for craft work of some kind. I do not want to get everything mixed up, but technically, it already is. The photographs, mostly black and white, seem to show scenes of people standing around in urban areas; mostly city sidewalks, from possibly New York in the 1930s. The place mats have a slightly different image on each one, but which appears to be the deck of a pirate ship in most cases with not that many features other than a row of small cannons on some. My wife goes out into the hallway from the kitchen and I start calling her because I am concerned about the strange people in the other apartments. I yell fairly loud but am not sure if she hears me.

Another dream involves some sort of video conference with my brother in the USA (Dennis). At the same time as the video conference, which seems related to some sort of party or holiday celebration, he is sending questions that seem of a forum thread in structure, but answering them himself (instead of allowing the others to) with various rude comments. Instead of computer print, however, it seems to appear more like handwriting. People in my wife’s family and their spouses are the ones at the actual location. We are at Clayfield again. The main scene involves a couple girls standing around talking (Bonnie and Kathy, I think). They have stringed wooden beads hanging all about their hair and when they nod or turn their head, there is a loud clacking noise.

In the final dream, my wife and I are living on Loomis Street (in my sister’s old house) though she has never been to the USA. We are having a nice evening, but then all the lights suddenly go off, which seems a bit ominous (rather than just being like a common power outage). I get the idea that it may be because someone cut off our power so that they could then rob us (assuming that there was a burglar alarm, as well as the dark disorienting us - but realistically, we would know our way around in our own house far more than a burglar, especially in the dark). I check outside and someone with an axe appears near the front door. Somehow, I manage to get the axe and keep swinging at “him” (I assume). However, I use the blunt back of the axe so that I do not accidentally chop his head off. Most of the time I miss his head, but he still just stands there. Eventually, uninjured, he seemingly goes to rob the house next door and seems to have the axe back again somehow.

A little later (I think there is some sort of distorted or incongruous “reset” at this point), I look south to the house next door and see someone walking around in the small front yard, which I believe is the same person. The person comes back over to our house and I feel there may be more trouble. My wife is calling the police at this point. It seems to be a younger slightly chubby male with short reddish hair and freckles. However, the person eventually seems to be Karen S (but thirty years or more younger, possibly only from about fifteen to eighteen or so, I am not sure) with rather short hair, who supposedly lives there with her parents (and I assume, her younger brother). In reality, she had never been to Wisconsin let alone lived in that house. The lights are on next door in every room (but I am not sure anyone had been home due to Karen needing to break into the place), so I know our power is off either on purpose or by a blown fuse. It seems strange because the person originally seemed taller than me and slightly muscular, but Karen is actually much shorter than average. She had been carrying a large axe, but does not seem threatening for the most part.

I find out (from her claims) that Karen had been supposedly trying to get into her house through some odd means that is not that clear or does not make much sense, as she said she had lost her keys; something about turning off an alarm and then getting in by breaking a window, but I am not quite sure why our electricity was cut off. Also, she was mostly just standing around or pacing about in the front yard and not seeming to attempt to actually get in that house in any way (being mostly only in the area between the sidewalk and house and never near the front door itself). She is seated on her knees on the floor near our front door and I tell my wife to tell the police that they do not have to come to the house (and somehow I hear the officer talking loudly and clearly over the telephone and seeming annoyed), but for some reason, Karen wants to be arrested, which makes no sense. She is talking about “losing her graffiti” and cries a bit about the wrong things she has done and how no one ever cared about her as she was growing up and going to school, which seems an excuse to be (or pointlessly act like) a juvenile delinquent. (None of this relates to anything real in any way, including any event in the past.) I try to make her less worried, but she insists on being “difficult” - and she says that she deserves all the trouble because of losing her keys and more to do with graffiti. (I get the impression that she is a graffiti artist, which almost seems like a high school class or college course at that point.) Time passes, and the police never show up. I look out into the streets a few times. Everything is dark and quiet.