maboroshi

Good morning, everybody.

For anybody interested in time and dreams, I'm pretty sure that the first dream took place in less than one minute. I woke up to a police siren, fell asleep, had the dream, and woke up to another siren.

Dream #1

I was walking through a museum, along a second floor balcony overlooking a first floor kind of atrium area. It was probably night, and it seemed like more than half the lights in the museum were turned off. I may have been looking down to the first floor, to a few glass-cased displays along one of the walls.

I was now listening to some man, who was supposed to be the father, Bill Loud, from the 1971 reality show An American Family. But the man sounded a bit younger and a bit meaner than Bill Loud. He was complaining to someone about how one of his sons, probably Lance, was too into museums.

The man complained that now the son wanted the man to go to the museums with him. But the man said, "God, what makes him think I'm interested in going off to see a bunch of tropical colored, electrical fish?"

I now sat at a dining table at the back end of the balcony area. This part of the balcony extended, it seemed, into the main part of the second floor. There may have been a number of tables here. The table I sat at was long, able to seat eight or ten people. But the only other person at the table was Lance Loud, who sat directly across from me.

We sat mostly in darkness. The only light seemed to be coming from a kitchen area, behind me and maybe twenty or thirty meters away.

I had looked down to the first floor at some point. It was now like a movie theatre, including a ground level and a balcony. And it was packed. I knew now that the creators of An American Family had come out with a new documentary, possibly further documenting the life of the Loud family.

I thought of the creators of America as Frederick Wiseman, the great documentary filmmaker. But apparently Wiseman was actually twins. There were two Wisemans.

Lance was here for the premiere of the new Wiseman documentary. But it was kind of against his will. He kind of resented the Wisemans. He felt like the An American Family reality show had ruined his family. The Wiseman twins knew that Lance felt that way. And they resented Lance as well.

Lance was busy complaining to me about the Wiseman twins when they walked past us, heading toward a stairway down to the movie theatre.

The Wiseman twins looked nothing like Frederick Wiseman. They looked more like short versions of the psychic researcher Russ Targ. They had puffy, curly, grey hair, though most of their forehead was bald. They were square-faced, though their faces were a bit wrinkly. One of the twins wore a white sweater. The other one wore a black leather jacket.

As the twins passed us, one of them made a kind of rude remark to Lance in a deep, gravelly, but loose and relaxed kind of voice. The twins knew Lance didn't want to be here, and the twins didn't want Lance to be here.

But one of the twins saw that I was sitting with Lance. He had walked to the top of the staircase. But now he turned around and came back to Lance. In a relaxed, but courteous tone he told Lance, "We're having a ----- after the show. You're more than welcome to come."

The twin walked away. Lance said, really loud, so the twin could hear him, but in such a way as to sound like he was talking only to me, "Oh, like I'd actually want to go to something like that!"

The ----- was something like a viewing of behind the scenes clips from the documentary. This was supposed to be of great interest to a lot of the people who had been involved with the film.

Dream #2

There was a man in maybe his forties who was the father of a girl in her early twenties. The father had had the chance on a couple occasions to be around the girl's circle of friends.

The father felt like it was possible that one of the men in this group would want to marry the girl. The father didn't quite feel comfortable about this. The men seemed either like total screw-ups or like people who would kind of treat the girl in a mean way.

But the father decided that he needed to get to know the guys better before he jumped to such conclusions about them.

The father was now standing out on a driveway in the late afternoon. The father was white, with tan, tough skin and a square haircut of grey and white hair. He wore a white polo shirt. He was in shape, if not actually even muscular.

The father thought it was a stroke of luck -- one of the girl's friends, the one, it seemed, the girl was most interested, was standing in the driveway as well. The father could get to know the guy.

The guy was now standing before the garage. The garage door was open. An incandescednt light lit the garage. There was no car in the garage. But at the very front of the garage was a small shelf, on which sat a few doll-like girls' toys.

The guy was standing there, staring at the doll-toys and giggling to himself. I was kind of concerned for the boy. I felt like the father might think the guy was some kind of pervert for being so interested in girls' toys. But the father didn't feel that way. The father just thought the guy was artistic, interested in these toys for an artistic reason.

The father walked up to the guy to talk to him. The guy was a bit shorter than the father. He was pale white, about half bald, with short, disarranged hair on the rest of his head. He was a little chubby, and his flabby cheeks were dotted with stubble. He wore chunky, square eyeglasses and a too-big, blue-green t-shirt.

The guy, sensing the father behind him, turned around, while still giggling at the girls' toys. He found himself face to face with the father.

But the guy didn't feel he needed to acknowledge the father at all. He kept giggling about the toys, then turned off and to his right, walking toward and then into the front door of the house.