maboroshi

Good morning, everybody. I'm not sure if the third and fourth dreams are two dreams or actually just one. But I think they are two.

Dream #1

I was in an office building with one of my old co-workers, CT. The floor we were on was very lonely. Everything was grey and dim, and it felt like it was under construction. And yet, it also had a hazy kind of romantic feeling to it, like in a Hong Kong movie from the 1990s.

I think either our company had just moved into this building or else our company was just starting up. CT and I were the first people to come to work in this building, other than our boss, who had just left. CT and I sat in the same group of cubicles in a little offshoot of the office floor right before the elevator bank. We sat back to back, a little bit caddy-corner, and set apart from each other by about 2 meters.

Work was getting a little bit boring. Suddenly, CT said, "Well, I'm going to cut out early for lunch. And I'm going to be gone for a while. I'm going to take my kid out to do a few things."

I was a little struck by how CT could just up and leave for a few hours so brazenly on our first day. But I figured I'd head to lunch as well. I had a bunch of stuff on top of my desk, including some really beautiful, silver netbook. I began piling all the stuff into one of my desk drawers so I could lock it up. I figured that since there was nobody on the floor to watch my stuff while I was gone, it would be a good idea to lock it up.

CT may have waited for a second while I was locking stuff up. She didn't lock any of her stuff up. She may have gotten impatient with me for locking my stuff up. I may possibly have decided not to lock up my stuff after all, just because I felt like I was slowing CT down. CT and I may have gone to the elevator bank together.

CT was now gone. I was either down in or imagining some mall-like area on the ground floor or basement of this building. It was a long, white corridor with a clear roof letting in cold, grey light from outside. The roof may have been gridded with a wood frame. It felt quiet and lonely, even though there were people around. At some point there may have been a ramp downward that now reminds me of some of the sloping floors and corridors in Grand Central Station.

Dream #2

There was a princess who looked like a mix between Tilda Swinton in Orlando and Geoffrey Rush (???). I think that sometimes she looked really pretty and then other times the Geoffrey Rush face took over, and then other times it was really a mix of both. The Princess had rich, red hair. She wore a big, red dress with gold designs on it.

The princess was by herself in a small chamber. The chamber had medieval furnishings, like in a painting of a scholar's chamber. The princess stood before a red curtain with gold designs on it. The atmosphere was silent. The princess suddenly froze and listened. I couldn't hear anything, but apparently the princess heard a lot.

There was some sort of plot against the princess, probably against her life altogether. She was listening closely to people talking a few rooms away about this plot.

Now the princess was in a room with a young man. The young man wore green pants, a flowing, white shirt, and some kind of tan, leather vest. He had jaw-length, curly hair, a broad, tan face, and a goatee. He sat at a table while the princess spoke to him either about some situation in her kingdom or about the danger she personally was in.

Suddenly the princess stopped talking and bent her ear to another curtain (again red and gold) to listen to sounds that were completely inaudible to me. The man couldn't hear anything, either, but he seemed to understand that the woman was in danger, or at least serious about her feelings of being in danger.

Dream #3

I was walking through some kind of clean, suburban neighborhood, even though I was apparently in New York City. It was a bright, sunny day.

I was walking toward some park at which I would be running a volunteer event. I was walking into a neighborhood with which I wasn't familiar, and even though the neighborhood looked really clean and nice, I was still afraid of being caught here alone. I walked up a long, swelling hill with a wide road and sidewalk. I went under the cool, blue shade of some trees.

For a little while, I looked down at my shadow. I was thinking to myself about the event I was heading to. It was at a park I was unfamiliar with. But, at the same time, this unfamiliar park was a park I always hosted volunteer events in.

I had been planning not to do this event, as I was pretty sure I'd never be able to find the park. But then I "remembered" a conversation with the woman headed park events at my regular park. It was like the "memory" was happening in the present, as if she were speaking to my via a "memory phone." She told me that the park was where it always had been, so I shouldn't have any trouble finding it.

Realizing that the woman from the old park would be at the new park, I figured I would do the event after all. One of the few things, I thought, that had kept me from doing this particular event had been the fact that this woman would not be there. But now she would be there, so I would do the event.

(At this point I may have woken up. I lay in bed and began reasoning with myself that the woman being at the event wouldn't be a reason for me to stay on a project in waking life. I like the woman, but I often feel kind of thrown to the side by her.)

Dream #4

Somewhere in a city at night, there was a small group of vampires. Everything was colored a deep red-orange. One vampire was a really sexy, punky looking girl with short, blonde hair in a square style. She wore a black leather jacket and a tight shirt with thin, horizontal stripes. She began talking about fighting.

I was now on a subway train, going above ground. It was still a dim, red-orange night. Pulling into a station, the train paused in front of what looked like some kind of rooftop basketball court for a high school. I saw it through a chainlink fence.

There was another group of vampires. These vampires were all dressed like ultra-moe girls, in extremely colorful and cartoony lolita dresses. One vampire girl in particular wore a vivid, pink dress with a wide, sapphire-blue ribbon at the waist. Under her skirt was a petticoat (? is that what they're called?) with tons of pale-pink lace. She wore a broad-brimmed, pink had with a bow on it, and she had her blonde hair in chunky ringlets.

I think one moe vampire girl (not the girl who stood out to me) was going to have to fight all the other girls by herself. I couldn't tell whether this was training for the girl from her friends, or whether the girl was actually fighting all the other vampires as enemies.

The girl had a gigantic length of rebar in her arms. I kind of identified with her at this point. The girls charged at her. She may have taken some kind of fighting posture.

Suddenly I was in a bright, fluorescent-lit room that was full of people. The room was kind of big. It was in some kind of school or recreation center. The room was right next to a huge cafeteria, which was also full of people.

All around me were black, teenage boys. One boy to my left tapped my shoulder to get my attention, as if I had been in some kind of really deep reverie. I looked at the boy. He looked a little older than his age. His face was kind of stubbly. He wore a grey and black sweater. He looked lonely, sad, and kind of dull.

I now kind of had the memory of the woman from the park (from the previous dream) talking to me in the cafeteria and telling me that the volunteer event wasn't scheduled to start for a while, so I should feel free to wander around, and then walking away from me.

The boys all around me asked me if I was okay. I told them I was. Most of them headed away. But two guys stuck near me. One was definitely a boy. But the other was so tall and worn-out and old looking that I thought he must have been the other boy's father. This guy asked me what I was doing here.

I told him that I was here with a volunteer group, and that we were going to do some kind of art project with all the kids here. The other volunteers had apparently not arrived yet. The two guys seemed to think I was cool. They lost interest in me and walked away, maybe waving at me as they left.

I was now in some room that seemed to be getting set up for an art exhibition. The place seemed to be in complete dissaray, with packing materials everywhere. Some moving guys were putting paintings up on walls.

One painting was already up on the wall to my right. It looked a bit like Jackson Pollock's "Stenographic Figures," (?) except that it was humongous, maybe 4 meters tall and 1.5 meters wide.

The painter, a tall, young, white man with a head of really frizzy, brown hair, stood before the painting. A camera crew was filming the young man for a kind of Reading Rainboy-esque educational TV show. The painter had some kind of miniature model of his painting near him somewhere, and he was using it as a sort of queue.

The young man said something like, "I work on my paintings a lot by instinct. And now-- I have the instinct to put one last touch on my painting. Right... here."

The painter squiggled a yellow line in the lower left quadrant of the picture. It was near a place in the painting that somehow looked like white stairsteps. The yellow looked like upside-down stairsteps, in a way. The painter filled in the yellow a bit more, but left some of the space with just the line.

The painter now pointed out how the squiggly yellow line echoed a part of the painting really close to the bottom left corner of the painting, and that that was why he had put it there. That made sense to me. But something about it also seemed artificial and hypocritical. The man was performing for the TV, but he was also rehearsing for when the kids and volunteers came by. I thought, How much thought does this guy give his work, if he can just paint over it at whim whenever he's standing with a group in front of what's supposedly a finished product?

Nevertheless, I thought it was really cool to have seen this young man in person. He was pretty well known in some circles of the art world. For some reason I thought I would contact my brother and let him known I'd seen this guy.

I was now walking back into the cafeteria, which was just swarming with people. As I walked into the room, two women on roller skates passed me. One was a younger woman, maybe a schoolgirl. The other was probably older, maybe close to being old enough to be the girl's mom.

Both girls wore very small, moe-maid-style dresses. Passing me, the older woman bent over a lot, revealing her rear end to me. I was pretty sure that I saw that she was wearing diapers. She also seemed to be wearing a pair of dark purple panties over the diapers. I couldn't quite believe my eyes. I looked again, but the woman had already stood back up.

I walked through the huge crowd of people. As I did, I saw the rollerskate girls skating in the distance, past wide doorways on the cafeteria wall to my right. The younger girl may have been pushing the woman.

Dream #5

I was in a big, empty room like a dance studio with a big, wooden floor. The room was clean and full of pale, bright daylight.

In the center of the room a female interviewer sat in a chair. Before her, Sigmund Freud sat on a green (velvet?) sofa. He didn't recline on the sofa. He actually sat on its edge. The sofa was on a nice (oval?) rug. The interviewer's chair may possibly have been on the rug as well.

Freud looked like a mix between his young, strong self, and his older self. He was slimmer than his younger self, and his face had the older, wiser look. But he didn't look ravaged by cancer at all. Freud wore a nice, but kind of modern-looking, tan suit. The interviewer may have worn a feminine-looking, tan suit.

Freud sat with his hands folded between his legs. He began talking about life with cancer. He said that the worst part of cancer wasn't the cancer itself, or even having to lose parts of your body to cancer.

"The worst part," Freud said, "is all the stuff you have to go through to get rid of the cancer. And then, once you've gone through it all, you go along for a little while, and then you find out you have cancer again. You have to go through the process all over again."

Freud began listing off all the cancer therapy processes one had to go through. They sounded progressively worse, until finally said, "But maybe I should stop talking about this. It's getting too depressing."

(Side note, 1/22/11, 7:13 PM -- I just got back from watching two movies in Manhattan. One was the anime Evangelion 2.0. The other was an Indian film called Dhobi Ghat.

Both films are excellent. Evangelion is like a Bible to me, so I can't really comment impartially on that one. But Dhobi Ghat is freaking amazing, one of the few great movies I've seen in years.

One of the key moments in Dhobi Ghat involves an artist unpacking his paintings. Both the art style and the unpacking of paintings are very similar to the images from dream #4 above. In addition, the artist in my dream looked very much like the character Peace (?) in the film.

I believe that I kind of previewed the film images in my dream. I seem to have wacky precognitive moments like this occasionally. I guess everybody does. I wish they could be about something more useful. But even when they're pretty useless, like this, they're still fun.)