maboroshi

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I stood before my closet hallway. There were a lot of boxes in there. I had a lightbulb box in my hand. It was empty, so I figured I'd just throw it out to make space.

There were some other boxes in there, possibly including a box for diapers. I threw them out, too. Suddenly I had only one box in my closet. It was the only box that had anything in it. It was white cardboard.

I thought I could start stacking stuff up on this box. But I was a little afraid to. The box looked a little dirty, like it had bugs crawling on it. I didn't want to put more stuff on this box and get everything else all buggy.

Dream #2

I was in the gift shop for a museum. The man there basically owned and ran the gift shop. The gift shop was closing down, and a lot of its shelves were empty. I remember one particular wall of light-beige wood shelves that were completely empty. The walls behind the shelves were grey, like a dark concrete or cinder.

The owner came up and smiled at me. He was white, bald, with a grey-white mustache and a kind of friendly look. He also seemed to be a little bit muscular. He spoke to me in some friendly way about some of the discounts he had throughout the store.

I was now alone in the store. I somehow heard my boss talking with a woman, or possibly with a woman and a man. I had apparently left my job for good. This had been somehwat planned. But now my boss was being urged to get me back. My boss was told that I should try to be tricked into believing that I was actually obliged to stay on for two more weeks.

As I heard this stuff, I had kind of been floating around on my back throughout the store. I had floated up high for a little while. But now I was floating at about the level of the checkout counter.

I looked at the green, digital numbers on the display of the tan, plastic cash register. They said "4-17." I knew that meant that today was April 17th. This was, I thought, about two weeks before I was scheduled to leave work. But I really didn't want to have to go back to my office, and I was trying to think whether this story these people would be feeding me about how I needed to go back was actually true.

Dream #3

I woke up. The lights were on in my room. My eyes were really blurry. But, I knew, because of my half-sleeping condition, I could see things that I normally wouldn't see.

I looked at my walls. There were black spots all around the room, at about waist height. The spots were set in pairs, and the pairs were spaced with about one meter intervals. The pairs of spots were set so that two spots were right next to each other, one set up a little diagonally to the other. The black spots were little spy cameras.

Up near the top of the wall were much more widely spaced, much bigger devices, which may have been colored like rusty metal. They looked like small versions of the horns for old phonographs.

I knew people were spying on me by using all this stuff. But I didn't know who was spying on me. There was suddenly a high-pitched ringing in my ears. It got more and more intense.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was looking through some kind of magazine like the New Yorker, although a lot of the formatting for the magazine seemed like it was for a popular men's magazine like Maxim.

There were three articles by Joyce Carol Oates in this magazine. I wanted to write Oates a letter to tell her how much I'd appreciated her articles. But I realized that I hadn't actually read the articles, and that I'd look like just some kind of "autograph hunter" if I wrote the letter, expecting a response, without having read the articles.

So I flipped through the magazine to find the articles. I found one of the articles, which seemed like a two-pager, on the front and back side of one sheet of paper. The article was all in some kind of grey text box. I figured this article would be the easiest to read, since it was so short. But even it seemed too long.

I got a little confused as to whether the article was one pages or two pages. I then came to the conclusion that the article was written on both sides of the page, but that the second page was partly taken up by an advertisement. So the whole article was less than two pages long.

The article, I could probably tell, was about Oates and her "new husband" taking their honeymoon in Italy. But the place they'd rented for their honeymoon seemed to me more like a place they'd just bought or rented for the long term.

The first paragraph mentioned something about how the apartment was just perfect "for allowing us to tatertater (an expression which means very much the same thing for us adults as it did when we were children)."

I couldn't figure out what tatertater meant. I just figured it had something to do with making tater tots "out of the can" (?).

So Oates was apparently pleased at first glance with the place. But she said that there ended up being a lot of faults. Mostly the place hadn't been very well cleaned after the previous occupants left. There were plenty of signs of their still having lived here.

One was that, "For close-drivers, a guard rail had been put right up against the edge." I couldn't quite figure out what close drivers would be doing in a house, or what kind of edge Oates was talking about.

But there was a picture, a kind of half-impressionist oil or pastel painting of the place. I looked at it and saw that there was some kind of babmboo fencing, still green, fastened all around the breakfast bar.

I realized that the "close-drivers" were people who pushed their babies in strollers everywhere and had the habit of bashing into everything with the strollers. The bamboo fencing was put up to protect the wood of the breakfast bar. The apartment seemed to be a living room with the kitchen inside of it. The breakfast bar and the kitchen counter seemed to be the biggest parts of this room of the apartment.

I was kind of worried. I didn't think I'd be able to get through this article. There was so much new language in it, so much current speech that I couldn't follow. I also felt bad because Oates, a few decades my senior, knew all this current vernacular, while I had no idea what it meant.

I continued reading the article and looking at the painting. Oates complaints were then that there were empty food cans strewn all over the place, as well as newspapers. I looked at the drawing again. There were newspapers and cans strewn on both the kitchen counters and the floor.

I thought, Did the landlords here bother to clean this place up at all when the last people left?

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was at my mom's house, which was in an apartment complex. A family living upstairs from my family was really noisy. It was really getting to the point where my family couldn't take it anymore.

We were all now down in an underground parking garage. The walls were really clean and white. The fluorescent light was kind of bright and really white.

Something had been done about the family upstairs. It was like the police had kicked them out.

Now we saw an old man from the family. He had grey-black hair and a big, grey-black mustache. His hair was really sloppily done. He had a pretty big belly, which his white polo shirt barely covered. He wasn't the father of the family. He was just a member of the family who should have moved out a long time ago.

He had come to ask my mom for some help. I told my mom to stay away from that guy. She had finally gotten free of him. Why would she let him back into her life? But my mom decided to help the guy.

The guy needed help on a test. When the police had kicked the man out of the house, they'd told him the only way he could come back was if he could pass a test with a lot of questions about American society and history. But the man couldn't understand most of the questions. So he was getting help from my mom.

Dream #2

I was in a bedroom. I'm pretty sure I was at someone else's, possibly my family's house. I was playing some kind of white Game Boy that had a clear purple case around it. Then I left the bedroom.

Before I'd left, I'd seen an upstairs neighbor, an old, black man with a really skinny bony face, pale skin and blonde-brown hair, peeking in the window at me, as if the bedroom were in a one-story house and not an apartment.

I came back to the bedroom. I realized that I'd left my Game Boy just sitting out on my bed, where it could be in plain view of the old man. I wanted to put it in a less visible place. But there was a girl standing in front of the door. She wouldn't let me in. She was a pretty, Latina girl in a colorful dress. I knew she was the old man's friend.

I pushed past the girl and went into the bedroom. The Game Boy was gone. Only the purple case was left. I walked into the living room, upset. The living room was like the one in my great-grandmother's old house.

Just as I walked into the living room, the old man walked in. He was grinning like he knew just what was going on. He was wearing some kind of suit, maybe beige or tan with a white or blue shirt. I yelled at him, "Where's my Game Boy?" But he just sat down in a chair and kept grinning, like I couldn't do anything to hurt him. I think I got really mad and shook him.

Dream #3

I got something in the mail that looked like a greeting card mixed with a letter-sized envelope. It opened on the long side, and it was supposed to be opened so that it flapped upward.

There was some printed information inside about how I'd been drafted into the Army. Below the printed information were two handwritten numbers, both long, and involving both letters and numbers. I think they each began with an A and a dash.

I hoped there was some way I could avoid being drafted. I thought, Well, I have a job already. Then I thought, No, I don't have a job. Well, I better get one quick.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I, possibly as a little boy, stood on what looked like the crumbled walls of ancient American ruins below a purple sky. I saw myself from behind, and maybe a few meters away. The walls I stood on were less than a meter tall, and they seemed to have all been cleaned out and made presentable for tourists.

The purple sky almost looked like a stage sky, or like the screen-dome of a planetarium, shaded purple. There was a form in the sky, maybe up from the horizon at about a 30 degree angle. The form was almost elliptical, like a half-open mouth. The form was full of black and grey circles and circles within circles. It was almost like gravel.

I knew that people used this form in the sky as a kind of transmitter for psychic messages. I may have used the form. But mainly it was older men, who may possibly have been known as wise men.

I thought it was kind of silly that people were using suchs a complicated method of psychic sending, a big transmitter in the sky, and psychic reception. I cynically reflected, Haven't these guys ever heard of cell phones?

I then felt bad. I didn't want the wise men to think I thought they were stupid, and I didn't want other people to think I was stupid, just because we hadn't thought of doing something simple like using a cell phone, which everybody else already did.

Dream #2

A view of a parking lot with a trailer-office, like for a construction site. Lance Loud from the 1970s reality show "An American Family" sat out on the steps of the trailer-office. Lance looked to be maybe 12 or 13 years old. He was resting his chin in his hands and his elbows on his knees. His dad, Bill Loud, was inside the trailer-office.

The view closed up on Lance. He had been sitting alone. But now there were a couple of other boys sitting on the steps below him, and maybe standing before the steps. The boys were all in line to see Bill. But Lance was first in line.

Lance looked really depressed. It suddenly occurred to me that Lance worked for his father, and that he was now anticipating getting fired.

The trailer door had been closed. But now it was open. From inside, Bill called, "Lance!" Lance slowly stood up as Bill continued, "Come on in here! Death march!" This confirmed that Bill was going to fire Lance.

Lance walked into the trailer-office. My view was still from outside the office, at the bottom of the steps. Bill's desk was just inside the door. Beyond the door, the trailer-office seemed as huge and full of people and activity as a large factory. There even seemed to be huge cranes and heavy-duty fluorescent lights inside!

Once Lance stood before his father's desk, he was about 20 years old, about the age he is in the TV show. Bill had some kind of discussion about firing Lance. Lance didn't seem to care that much, although he may have said some semi-nasty thing to his dad.

Bill apparently felt bad for firing Lance. But he himself was also depressed. He had just gotten divorced from his wife, Pat.

Bill was now in the living room of one of his good friends. The living room was huge. It had three large couches in the center, arranged in a backwards "C." Bill sat at the right end of the top couch.

Bill's friend and the friend's wife seemed to change positions. Once they were both on the right end of the right couch. Then the wife was still in that position, while the husband was on the right end of the bottom couch. Then they may have switched positions. Then they may both have been on the right end of the bottom couch.

Bill was trying to talk for a bit about how he was depressed over his divorce. But the wife started talking about how she and her husband had gone to some kind of store like a K-Mart or a Walmart and picked up stuff like gardening supplies. The store may have been called Libby's. Something about it had a Mexican feel.

Bill seemed at first to wonder if the husband and wife were trying to ignore or belittle his depression by talking about shopping. But he eventually seemed to decided they were only trying to distract him from his depression and cheer him up that way.

So Bill joined in on the discussion about this store. He said to the wife, "You know, Libby's always had that great feel to it. You could just walk in there and it was great. Is it still like that?"

The wife said, "Well, you know, the service at Libby's has gone downhill a lot since you've last been there. I don't think it will be what it used to be ever again."

Dream #3

Whitley Strieber was driving in a car with two other people. A man sat in the front passenger seat. Another person, probably a really pretty, blonde woman, sat right in the middle of the back seat. My view was from just behind the woman's head, as if I were a camera stuck on the inside of the back window.

The car was a big car like from the 1970s. The car drove through some nice valley of green and tan grass between two pine-covered mountains. The road was pretty straight. We were just heading down a slope away from the first mountain and toward the next mountain.

I could see either a very small town or a large estate just up the slope of the next mountain. Strieber's house was there, just around a left curve.

I only saw the people in the car from behind. Strieber had a thick head of brown hair in a bowl-like cut. It was a really nerdy, 1970s-style cut. He also seemed to be wearing a blazer that looked like tweed, but which was of a chunkier, nerdier fabric.

The man and woman had picked Strieber up from the hospital, apparently. He had been at some kind of speech or presentation. Then he ended up in the hospital. Now the man and the woman were making sure Strieber got home okay. I think the man may have been wondering why he was letting Strieber drive, right after he'd gotten out of the hospital.

Strieber now spoke in a really thuddy, low, dull voice. He said he was at the meeting when, "I just couldn't see straight anymore."

I could see as if through his memory. There was a person in his view. The person split into a few different images, which were all glimmery and white, surrounded by rainbows, somewhat like looking at something through a blurry prism.

Strieber continued, "That's when they came to me. They told me. And from what they told me, I knew. I have only 15 days to live."

Dream #4

Two women were in a TV studio which was colored orange and yellow, and styled very much like a TV studio from 1960s or 1970s. The women sat in plasticky swivel chairs with metal bases. Between them, on the wall, was a TV screen. Shelley Duvall was on the screen.

One woman was an older, classy, experienced interviewer. The other woman was young and very pretty. She was actually a model, not an interviewer, although she was apparently going to help the older woman on her interviews from here on. The younger woman may actually even have been holding a teddy bear.

Duvall was maybe in her late forties. She looked really pretty, but not quite like herself. She was tan, and she had freckles. Her hair was dark and really silky. Her skinniness was over-accentuated. And she had dark, dark eyes. In fact, her eyes may have been all black. She wore a red dress with white polka dots and lapels.

The interview seemed to be going well. But then, suddenly, the younger woman interrupted Duvall and asked, "So, wait. Are you, like, an actress, or something?" This question had been posed half in ignorance and half in the young woman's attempts to hurt Duvall in some way, just because she was older than the young woman.

Duvall stopped what she was saying. She said, "Yes. I am an actor." She held up a color headshot of herself. It may have alternated between a rather pretty and colorful shot of herself and some shot that had to do with her playing Olive Oil in the movie Popeye.

Duvall may have scolded the young woman a little bit, angrily. She may then have continued on with whatever she had been talking about before.

But, again, the young woman interrupted. She started asking Duvall for advice about some kind of life problem or professional problem she was having. Duvall stopped talking about whatever she had been talking about and started giving the young woman advice in a very caring manner.

Dream #5

No, or few, images. A few old, rich people, possibly including a couple of old ladies with grey hair and blue-violet colored hats, were talking.

One said, "How are they doing after the breakup?"

Another said, "Oh, well, Arnold is still depressed. We try to cheer him up and get him out of the house. He's only just now started seeing people again. So maybe he's about to turn the corner."

Another said, "But Maria! She's just throwing all kinds of wild parties! And they just get more and more lavish!"

This was said as if Maria were breaking some kind of rule. It was like people thought she should have hidden herself away in depression. Since she was doing the opposite, she was apparently a bad example of womanhood.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a camper trailer, one of the kinds that hitch to the back of a pickup truck. It was parked somewhere in the woods. The door was open. I stood in the doorway. My sister stood just outside it.

My sister told me that "J Bieb" or "J Bumblebee" had died. He was some kind of famous figure, but I didn't know very much about him. My sister kind of took a mildly sarcastic tone with me, as if to say, "I know you couldn't care less." It was like she was accusing me of not caring about our family because I wasn't so emotionally stricken by this celebrity's death.

I was then in some other place. A young, kind of attractive girl told me that a celebrity named J Bieb had died. She might even have said something like, "Everybody remembers where they were on the day J Bieb died."

I didn't know anything about this celebrity. But suddenly I remembered that my sister had told me about either this celebrity or a celebrity with a very similar name.

So, to imptess the girl, I blurted out, "Oh, yeah! My sister had said something about that! I think it was back... My sister and my family had come to visit me. They'd rented a camper."

Realizing I would have made my family sound like they had a lot of money for renting a camper, I said, "Well, not one of the big campers. Just one of the small ones, you know, that..."

I may have been making hand motions to illustrate how the small camper worked.

Dream #2

I was with my friend H on an airplane. We lifted off. It was a cloudy day. Everything seemed fine. But just as we ascended into the lower layer of clouds, the plane sped up really quickly. That seemed really abnormal. We suddenly slumped downward. The plane was headed back toward the ground. It was obvious that something was wrong.

I could see as if I were looking through the pilot's window, even though I was still with H in the normal passenger area. The pilot got us turned around. The engines were dead. But the pilot was trying to get us back to the runway. We were kind of gliding, but we were also descending really quickly. I knew it would be a bad landing.

The plane approached the runway. It hit the tarmac pretty violently, possibly smashing theunderside of the plane. But nothing exploded.

I could hear or imagine some kind of news announcement talking about the plane crash. My vision was now outside and behind the plane. I was still alive. But I didn't know about H. I could still see from inside the plane, but not very well. Everything was shaking around.

Then the plane twisted over onto its left side. I could see it as if I were outside and behind the plane and see and feel it as if I were inside the plane. At this point, the plane came to a stop.

Dream #3

I was on a plane with a woman like my mother, although the woman was not more than a few years older than I. The plane had landed, and people were all getting off. I might, however, actually have been staying on the plane, as if I had just stayed on in order to help my mother get situated.

At some point, my mother became a kind of tall, thin woman, like my old friend AL.

Now a young woman with a kind of hip look, possibly with maroon-dyed hair, came into the plane and sat down. She may even have buckled the seat belt. But she was really here to meet with my mother/friend and visit places in this area with my friend.

The young woman was a lesbian, and I got the feeling that she was going to try to seduce my friend. I really didn't mind. She was only my friend. I wasn't in love with her.

So I tried to give some advice to the young woman about how to have a good time in this area. It was partly because I felt bad that I wasn't staying here. It was some kind of tough place to be, and my not staying kind of implied that I wasn't tough. But I'd been here before, and I wanted to prove it. So I started to give the girl advice.

I said, "You look like you're dressed for the summer right now. But when you go down into the caves, make sure you bring a sweater. Because it gets cold when the wind whips through the tunnels. It's like --" and I made some kind of blowing, whistling sound.

The young woman had gotten bored about halfway through what I was saying. Finally she unbuckled herself and stood up. She sulkily walked past me and said, "I already know that stuff."

Dream #4

I and a group of people, probably my family, stood up from dinner at a restaurant. A family at another table stood up at the same time as we did. My mother may have started up a little exchange between our group and the other group, based on some interesting similarity between us. Both groups were laughing and cheerful, but I felt like things could turn stressful pretty quickly.

The tables we were sitting at were in a basement area, and we had to head up some stairs to get to the first floor dining area and exit. I may either have been heading for the stairs or some place like a coat closet or coat check. My family was headed in the other direction.

I was kind of happy to be splitting from the two groups and the almost tense situation. But my mom then called out to a young boy in the group, "You know that ----- (she said my name) lived in Colorado, too." This was supposed to give me something in common with the boy, who was getting ready to go do something in Colorado.

I knew that now I'd be obliged to talk to the boy. He was tall, white, pale, with kind of shaggy hair, not quite down to his shoulders. He wore a t-shirt and a hooded sweatshirt. He seemed cool. But he seemed about as inconvenienced by having to talk to me as I felt for having to talk to him.

We walked in the direction of my family. We headed up the steps. I asked the boy where he'd grown up. He said, "In the West V-----"

We were walking through some kind of crowded space with wood walls. There were a lot of people, and the place was full of noise, so I hadn't quite heard what the boy had said. So I mistook it for "West Village."

I said, "Oh, you grew up in New York?"

The boy said, "No. I said the West Valley." He seemed annoyed at my mistake. So I made some kind of dumb joke. I became really sheepish. As the boy, kind of ignoring me, walked away and back toward his group (we were all in the ground floor dining area), I kept calling out to him with this weird joke.

I suddenly stopped myself, thinking, Geez. The way I'm going at this guy, you'd think I had a crush on him.

So I went and sat at a table where my mom was sitting. The boy's mom was also sitting there. She was white, kind of thin, with short, blonde hair. She'd overheard my weird joke to the boy. She said, "Yeah, a lot of people don't know where the West Valley is. But it's basically all the most populous regions in Kentucky." She said this with a kind of mock-flair that made me realize she thought the area was pretty dumpy.

I wanted to respond with a joke like, "Right, all the great suburbs of -----." I wanted to say a really big town in Kentucky. But all I could think of was Louisville. And I didn't think that was good enough.

A waitress came up to the table from my left. A man had been calling after her. He'd been trying to joke with her, trying to flirt with her. He'd struck me as a bit of an old creep. I was afraid he'd pursue the waitress to our table and start making trouble for us.

The waitress was wearing some kind of one-piece shorts outfit with a gently colorful floral print and made out of a satiny material. She had tan skin and pale brown hair. She was incredibly sexy, but she didn't strike me as a waitress.

The waitress gave me some eye and body signals to let me know she was attracted to me. She then said, "Maybe you should give me your card or your contact information, so we can keep in touch."

I said, "I don't have a card, but I can give you my email address." I shifted in my seat and leaned back a bit, as if I were going to pull a card out of my wallet. I felt embarrassed that I didn't have any business cards. I asked the woman, "Can you give me a napkin?"

The woman sat down in the chair across from me. She picked up a napkin. There were drawings along the top of the napkin. I had apparently been looking at them before. They were done in black, felt-tip pen. They had struck me, as I'd seen them, as some kind of mystical hieroglyphics.

But the woman, looking at them, laughed. I asked her why. She directed me through each drawing, from left to right. It showed stick figures, in frame-like settings, like in a comic strip. One frame showed a boy chasing a girl. Another frame showed the boy and girl together in bed. Another frame showed the boy and girl doing some kind of really nasty sex position.

I said, "Well, I hadn't seen that at all! Must've been cause I was reading it the Japanese way." This meant from right to left, instead of from left to right. Okay...

I suddenly realized that this drawing was made as a kind of love letter to the girl. I was scared. I thought she'd think I'd written this to her. But then I realized that the creepy guy had actually made this drawing for the waitress.

There was another drawing below the first drawing. The first frame showed a cabin in a snowstorm. The second image showed a close-up of some structure in the snowstorm. Then there were a couple of images of an American flag waving in the wind.

Below each frame there were captions. The first captions were something like, "A snowstorm, loneliness, the comfort of a warm home." The next to last caption was, "Destroy the commandos." The final caption was, "America the brave."

I realized that this was some kind of mass-marketed (how?) advertisement for how America should continue the war on terror. For some reason I felt like this was directed against me. I also thought that, since I thought the drawing was kind of silly, that I'd somehow be targeted by the government as unpatriotic.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a small, tight bedroom with three old, white men and one young, black man. I was sitting in a metal-framed dining chair. One old man sat to my right. Another old man sat to my left. The third old man and the young man stood off to my left, near the foot of the bed. My vision was largerly focused inward and downward, really close to my body.

The three old men were very rich. The young man and I were talking about working on a number of different projects for a company. There were at least three projects. The young man said that we should focus on the project that was something like an award ceremony, possibly for one key performer.

I kind of felt like this wasn't the right thing for us to be focusing on. The other two projects were more administrative. They actually dealt with problems, and they actually needed work.

My vision kind of drifted off, down really close to the floor and then toward an empty closet with open doors. I also had visions of photographs, like snapshots being laid one on top of the other, like in some TV show or commercial about traveling. Most of the snapshots had white borders, but some had pink borders. The photos may have been related to the projects the young man and I were discussing.

My vision came back to my body. I dropped photos on the floor. I stood up and then bent over at the waist, with straight legs, to grab the photos. I basically shoved my rear end in the face of the old man to my right. I could see my back side. I was kind of old and flabby somehow, and I was wearing slacks that were really nice but kind of baggy. Somehow I could also see my butt through the pants.

I sat down. The guy to my right was now acting really excited and nervous. We were all trying to talk about something, but the old man to my right was really too distracted to do so.

The young man somehow let me know that when I had shoved my rear end in the old man's face, I'd really turned him on. Now the old man couldn't think about anything other than having sex with me.

The young man let me know that I'd probably end up having to have sex with the old man now, if we wanted to get anything done with our business. The young man said, "Don't worry. I've had to do it before, too."

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a scientific laboratory. The floor I was on looked like the lobby for a nature center or a church. There were tall glass walls showing a clear day outside. The floors were some kind of deep-red stone, polished heavily. One other window to my left and about 5 meters away from me looked down, apparently, to a basement area, which was dark.

My great grandmother was going down into the basement area to test out some kind of atomic science device. It was like some kind of atomic particle beam ray. It could be used either for scientific purposes or as a weapon.

My great grandmother now walked into another room to my left and went down the stairs. I may have stood on the threshhold of the first room and the room with the stairs. A man and a woman stood with me, though they both stood in the first room. The woman was talking about how once a proton beam was set in motion, it would go into an orbit around the earth, destroying whatever came into its path. This could possibly lead to the destruction of the whole earth.

The man now said, "Hmm... maybe we should get ----- (something like Swami Sarasvati) to talk about that kind of stuff." The man was basically implying that the physics of the machine were basically like the elements of Hindu religion.

The woman said, "Or we could get ----- (some famous Western physicist)."

To make a joke, I thought I'd recommend getting the Play-Doh man to talk. I envisioned holding a Play-Doh ball in my hand and smashing it. This was basically to suggest the destruction of the world, but as a joke, apparently.

I made the hand gesture and said, "Or maybe we should get --," but I was suddenly interrupted by my great grandmother calling me from downstairs. She sounded pretty insistent, so I ran toward the stairs. I called out to the man and woman, still making the hand gesture, "Maybe we should get the Play-Doh man!"

The woman got my joke and said, "Play-Doh man. Oh...!" as if she were going to start laughing.

I now lay on my stomach before a staircase down to the basement. The staircase looked like in a suburban house, and it was bordered by a thin, wooden railing, like for a child's crib.

My great grandmother's voice came from below. She said, "I need you to go get the money. I can't do the project without it." But she also discussed how she needed me to go get the money to protect it from getting into some other people's hands. My grandmother told me that the money was in a place outside of my usual activities. I took this to mean it was in some mansion in a rich neighborhood in Georgia.

I asked my great grandmother how I could possibly get into these mansions. She told me that I wouldn't have as much trouble as I thought I would, and that I should be pretty honest about my aims with anybody I encountered.

There was now a tall, bald, black man in the room with me. He stood over by what looked like a kitchen counter with a bunch of appliances, boxed and unboxed, on it. But the devices were actually weapons and parts to the device that my great grandma was testing out.

The man made some kind of threatening statement, in a smirking way, about how he was going to destroy the whole project. I tackled him and pinned him to the floor. We were down beside a bed. I was on my knees, on the man's ribs. I had him pinned, and he couldn't move. But he didn't seem worried at all. He was still smirking.

He made some move where he was now on his back. He had better control of his arms, and he tried to make some weird move against me. But I managed to counter that move and get control of him.

Suddenly I was "my old self (?)," an old, white haired, German man who had been a Nazi. I had apparently tortured this man in the past.

I lifted the man up and carried him over toward the head of the bed. The walls were grey concrete, like in a basement. At the head of the bed was a single wooden pole, kind of thin. I lifted the man's head up and said, "You couldn't leave things alone, could you? You had to bring the old me back. Well, now I'll treat you like the old me treated you!"

I was going to slam the man's head down on the thin pole so that I pierced his brain through one of his eyes. But I was a little disgusted at the thought of this, and I either didn't do it or didn't see myself doing it.

I was myself again. Some series of events had taken place, the project was completed, and my great grandma was up out of the basement again. A few people were around, like family, meeting after the project. But I still didn't have the money.

I went to look for my great grandma to tell her I didn't have the money. I found her in her bedroom, apparently changing clothes. The bedroom was dim grey.

I called out, "Grandma? I couldn't find the money. I don't know where it is." This actually wasn't true. I was actually kind of too shy to go to the Georgia mansions to look for it.

My great grandma yelled, "Well I told you where it was! Go to a place outside your usual activity. You know what that is. And tell people exactly what you're doing!"

I felt terrible. I was too shy and afraid to do this. I figured I might fail entirely at getting this money. What would happen?

I was now in some kind of bedroom that looked like an exotic bedroom in an Arabian mansion, like in the movies. A bed stood atop a few marble steps, curtained on either side by thin, pink-orange drapes.

Before the bed stood a kind of pretty boy dressed as a girl. He had long, blonde-brown hair and he wore a yellow-green and black striped shirt and a denim mini-skirt. He was apparently Harry Potter.

Harry explained how I could get past my fear and take care of my mission. It took a few minutes before I realized that Harry was wearing a diaper under his mini-skirt. I started to vanish from the room, but I remained fixated on the fact that this transvestite boy was wearing a diaper.

Harry, all by himself, began dancing in a kind of wild but sexy way all around the huge bedroom. I now saw a view from below the floor, looking straight up Harry's skirt, at his diaper. The diaper seemed to be blue, like blue jeans.

I seemed to be sinking lowe and lower. I ended up on some kind of portico area with a group of students and a couple of male teachers. The students and teachers were all Latino and black. The students were a mix of boys and girls.

I somehow figured that since I'd failed at my task, there would be no Christmas for these children. The children, without mentioning me (I wasn't present), kind of sadly complained about this fact.

I felt terrible about this, but I thought there had to be some kind of magical way that Christmas could appear for these children. After all, Christmas is a magical holiday. Suddenly, slightly glowing objects began to fill the air. They were all supposed to be things like Christmas objects. But they were actually things like fast food items.

One of the boys, seeing these items, said, "Hey guys! Don't worry! We've got Christmas right here! Just eat one of these Christmas hamburgers out of the air!" The boy himself ate a Christmas hamgurger. One of his male friends did so as well.

The two boys were suddenly acting like they were drunk or stoned. The students were all walking to some educational site. One boy grabbed on to the arm of one of his teachers, a big, Latino man with long hair in a ponytail, as if the boy were the teacher's girlfriend. Another boy was at the back of the line, bouncing around and acting crazy.

Finally, as the group continued walking toward the educational site, the first boy woke frfom his stupor. He ran back to the second boy and warned him not to eat the hamburgers.

The school group was now of little, Japanese boys and girls. There were two male, Japanese teachers. I was now present with the group.

We were walking into a forest full of yellow-leafed trees. A couple of girls, as we walked into the forest, called out, "Kirei!"

I noticed that the scenery was getting all fuzzy, like a digitized video view getting more and more pixellated. I thought I'd comment on this to the teachers. But I didn't know whether, if I did this, I'd be breaking the Japanese customs of respectfulness.

We walked along a really muddy path. At some point, I had to push aside the stalks of a tall, tree-like shrub. One of the branches touched my face. It was all muddy. I just decided to let the stalks go and not worry about whether I was clearing a way for the students behind me. But just as I decided to do that, it turned out that we were past that area.

The teachers were now turning us around, but we were walking back on a path parallel to the path we had walked out on. This second path was flooded with water, which reflected the blue of the sky. I thought this would be kind of inconvenient. A horse was also standing in the water.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a big theatre. The theatre was kind of crowded. The lights were on, but a show was playing. It was apparently the Ed Sullivan show where the Beatles played.

I was surprised by the songs. The first song sounded a little bit like a Beatles song, but it also sounded modern. It may also have sounded like the "Boss Boss" song, by RC Succession.

The second song sounded even more modern. I could also hear it very vividly. I was really surprised by this song. I was surprised I hadn't heard it before, and that the Beatles had chosen it for the Ed Sullivan show. But I really liked it.

I was now getting up on stage. I was taking part in some kind of performance show, like a karaoke show or something like that. I felt like there was a band somewhere, but I didn't see a band: only a couple of guys leading me up on stage. The stage was empty and seemed to be made up of two or three tiers of some kind of beige-colored, polished material.

I knew I was supposed to sing the Beatles song I had just heard. But I didn't know the song. I thought that maybe all I was supposed to do was lip-sync with the song. I figured that if I paid enough attention to the words I could do that on the spur of the moment.

I now faced the crowd. The song was playing. The song was full, so the singer's voice (don't know which Beatle it was: didn't sound like any) could be heard. But I was actually supposed to sing out loud with the song.

I actually got through the first verse pretty well by sticking to the sounds as I heard them sung. I ended the chorus of the first verse pretty loud, with a lot of enthusiasm. I had a feeling that sooner or later the singer's voice would be withdrawn, and that I'd have to sing all by myself.

The second verse was starting up. I was really afraid I didn't know the lyrics. But I figured that if I heard the first words from the singer, I'd probably recall the rest of the song.

At some point I may have been back down in the crowd, or I may have had the view of a camera looking into the crowd. I may have realized that the crowd was really a group of my peers and that I didn't have to worry so much, even if I did a bad job.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a big room like a school gym. But there were bookshelves on some of the walls. The floors were covered with something like different-colored exercise mats. The exercise mats were maybe 1 meter long, 500cm wide, and 3cm thick. They seemed to fit with each other like floor tiles. I stood right inside this room, on the right wall, right near a door.

I walked out of the room. I was now in a smaller room. There were a good amount of people in the room, all engaged in a number of tasks with each other. The room was lit only by greyish natural light from windows somewhere.

I sat down in a school-type chair in front of two girls who also sat in school chairs. The girls looked very serious, as though they were giving me a job interview. But they were really cute and couldn't have been more than 13 years old.

As part of whatever interview-like process this was, I began showing the girls how I could sing a song. The song sounded like "Drops of Jupiter," by Train. But it was an older song than that one. I'm pretty sure it was a real song, but I don't remember the song. As I sang the song, I heard/felt it pretty vividly.

I sang lyrics that I'm pretty sure didn't match the actual lyrics of the song (if it was real and it wasn't just "Drops of Jupiter"). I pretty much had the lyrics memorized. But I wasn't sure I was getting them right.

So I pulled a newspaper page out. The page had the song lyrics printed on it. Some of the lyrics were printed in bold, possibly to highlight really important parts or really smart words in the song.

I think there was a point when I realized I didn't have the song fully memorized. But if I looked just a little bit at the paper, I could sing a long string of words. So I felt pretty sure I'd have the song memorized soon.

When I woke up, I actually remembered the tune and a couple small phrases. But they all melted away.

(Side notes: I actually spent part of yesterday evening walking through town and memorizing the song "Kurumi," by Mr. Children. I've listened to and sung along with the song enough times that I almost had it memorized, anyway. I actually thought I did have it memorized. So I was a little frustrated to see how many times I actually had to look at the lyrics.

Although, whenever I get frustrated, I also wonder why I'm my age and still getting frustrated over a rock song. Ugh... immature?)

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a house. I walked from something like a living room into something like a kitchen. The kitchen looked like a normal suburban kitchen, but there was a big table, which was either wide and made of thick wood or was a big, wide table like for a group of students in an elementary school art class. Orange-gold afternoon light came in through the kitchen window.

There were three young men at the table. Two sat on one side and one on the other. I walked behind the two and sat to their right. The seats were benches. I saw that the two young men were working on homework assignments. The assignment seemed to involve a lot of photographs.

Then the other young man began explaining stuff to the two young men. The stuff he was explaining had to do with English writing and speech. I thought, Well hadn't I been teaching these guys English before? Why is this guy teaching these guys English? But I then thought, Well, if that's what they want, I can't be mad at them. And I can't act mad. So I think I stood up and walked into the other room.

Dream #2

I was out in some park, either at night or in the early morning. I was walking past some small, red-brick structure which I think was a bathroom. As I did, a man walked up with a small dog.

The dog wasn't on a leash and it ran straight up to me. The owner made some comment about how the dog was nice and how he wouldn't mind my petting her. The dog was a litte, red dog that looked like a mix between a dachshund and a collie, with pointy ears. It only stood 200cm tall.

I reached my hand down to the dog, even though I was still standing straight up. I may have asked the dog if she minded my petting her. The dog responded in a distinct voice, but probably by telepathy, "Oh, I don't mind at all. In fact, I'm gonna give you a big hug."

The dog managed to curl her head and neck around so that she had my arm pressed close to her shoulder. I was kind of flattered that the dog liked me so much.

Now it started to rain pretty heavily. I was carrying an umbrella. I knelt down and picked up the dog, which was now something like a tiny, white poodle. I again asked it the dog minded my carrying her to her owner. The dog said, "No! You can help me get back there without having to go through the pouring rain!" But the dog was already soaking wet.

As we walked over to the owner the dog began telling me about some kind of reality show from Russia that she really liked. We got over to the dog's owner. But now the dog was a really pretty woman with pale eyes and brown hair.

The woman had told me quite a bit about the reality show. I had even seen a few images of the show in my head. The woman said, "They had the whole collection of the show on sale. So I bought it! I bought the whole series!"

I my mind's eye I saw a huge collection of big, fat videotapes.

The man said, "And that was a lot of money for her. $380 (or $830?). For the amount of money she makes at her job (nursing?), it was a big sacrifice."

The woman said, "But I love the show, because I'm from Russia, too. And they had a full showing of the series and then an auction for the videotapes right after that. And I won the auction. Well, everybody loves the show. The showing was done in a church. So even the church supports the show!"

I laughed at the fact that the church would support what was apparently an outrageous reality show.

Suddenly I was having sex with the woman. It may have been right there, as we were standing. She was naked, and I was suddenly having sex with her. I came, and somehow I felt as if I had certainly made the woman pregnant. I felt like somehow we were in bed. I felt like I would turn the woman over on her stomach and start having sex with her from behind.

But the woman was gone. I looked around. I was standing on my knees on a bed in a dark bedroom. The bedroom was big, and there was at least one other bed. The beds were set close together. They were all big and nice, with a lot of thick sheets on them.

Somehow I knew that I had had sex with the woman in this room. While we had sex, another woman had been in the room with us. It was somehow understood that I was going to have sex with the second woman as well. But once the second woman realized I had gotten the first woman pregnant, she took the woman into another room, which was something like a hospital room.

The women, I thought, may have been lovers. There had been no intention for the second woman to have sex with me. The women just wanted me to have sex with one of them so that one of them could get pregnant. Not for a family, but for some kind of medical purpose.

I stood up to go look for the woman I'd had sex with. I didn't know whether I should feel obliged to look for her, since our sex must likely have created an emotional bond between us, or whether she'd rather I just left her alone.

I ended up in some kind of schoolroom. There were a group of people, at least one of whom was a little girl playing a flute or a recorder. The little girl was slightly tan and blonde. She wore a pink t-shirt and a knee-length skirt with flower patterns on it. She wasn't who I was looking for.

But suddenly I was in a maze. The maze was made out of cardboard or particle board. The walls were all painted in a scribbly fashion with white, green, and grey. I got the feeling that somehow the little children in the class that the little girl belonged to had made this maze, or else that the maze had been made in such a weird style for their enjoyment.

I was near the front of the maze. The front part of the maze just seemed to be some kind of wide gallery, itself a kind of classroom. A male teacher sat just inside the gallery. A group of students were sitting in chairs just outside the maze. The maze was like its own building, so that the children were sitting outdoors, in a field like at a county fair.

The teacher was giving the children music lessons. One by one he was having his students play their instrument, usually a flute or recorder. The student would go through some kind of song and then would be required, at the end of the song, to go into an improvisation.

I now had the understanding that the maze was something used for careers. It was like children would go through this maze to determine what career would be best for them. Or that when children went through this maze, sensations were fed into their bodies to help them understand just what a career was like. Or that people actually walked into this maze when their careers began, and they just kept on going.

A couple of teenage boys walked into the maze. One of them was pale with a medium build, kind of wavy, shoulder length hair, and glasses. He looked kind of brainy. He wore a t-shirt that was a little too tight for his build. He looked toward the classroom and called out for a younger student, "Hey, where's -----?"

The boy's friend said, "Didn't you hear? They monetized him (her?) early." The boys then walked through the maze.

I understood that "monetizing" mean readying someone for a career. Apparently this was the near future. It had been determined that the only purpose of an education should be to prepare a person for his or her career. The aptitude and ability of a child was determined early. And the child was advanced to begin his career as quickly as he was capable of advancing.

The boys' little friend had already been "monetized," put into a money-making position, very early. I got the impression that the classes were full of children of all different ages. The classes also seemed to be extremely relaxed, easy-going, almost to the point of being random or aimless.

I was now outside the maze. It was now a little girl's turn to play. She played through the song. But when it got to the improvisation part, the little girl kind of hesitated. She played something that sounded a lot like "A Love Supreme." But after cycling through that melody, she hesitated to fly up into an improvised melody.

The little girl stopped playing. She acted embarrassed, rubbed her hand against her forehead, and said she didn't think she was ready to improvise quite yet.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was coming back to my apartment. I was in the second floor hallway areas, which was much bigger than IWL. The atmosphere was blue-grey. The floor seemed to be made out of tiny, square, white tiles. The wall had mailboxes set into it somewhere. I stood outside my door for a moment and then stood inside my apartment, just near the door, possibly even pressed against the door.

My apartment, I could feel, was pretty big. It had two or three bedrooms. And it was decorated really nice. There may have been a thick, beige rug with a green, hexagonal design on it over the couch. But I didn't see any of this directly, because I was still pressed to the door.

IWL, I have called the police on my neighbors on a number of occasions for banging and pounding violently on the floors all through the day and night whenever I'm home. Now, somehow, I heard that my neighbors were getting back at me for calling the police on them. They had called the police on me. They may have claimed that I was now the one making noise.

But they may also have claimed that I was guilty of a much worse crime, some kind of violent crime. I thought about it for a while. I wasn't certain that I actually hadn't committed this crime.

At some point a woman was coming up to my apartment to visit me. Then she may actually have been in my apartment. I don't think I ever saw her. I may only have imagined her being in my apartment. She was pretty. She had a gentle, but serious expression. As I continued pressing myself against my door I either spoke to the woman or imagined having a conversation with her.

Dream #2

I was walking down a concrete path on a sunny day. The path may have been between two lawns. But on either side of the path were chest-high, chain-link fences.

At some point another concrete path joined the one I was on from the left, at a right angle. Five girls were walking up that path. They were maybe 7 or 8 years old, but they may have been 10 or 11 years old.

They were all skinny, tanned deeply by a lot of time in the sun. They had brown hair. They wore orange bikinis with yellow stripe on the left breats. They were all wet, as if they'd just gotten out of the pool. Their wet hair, shoulder-length, was slicked back from their foreheads and kind of tangly.

Dream #3

I was in the middle of classroom, walking between the aisles and rows of seats. The class was full, and all the students had their heads down. They were either studying very hard or taking an exam. I think I was just wandering around, not quite sure I belonged to the class.

Dean Radin, the President (?) of the Institute for Noetic Sciences, was somewhere. I could see an image of him, as if it were stuck in the back of my head. He looked a bit too skinny, and he wore some kind of black baseball cap, like somebody from NASA or a SWAT team might wear.

Radin explained that people thought the universe was a certain age. He may have said 4.5, 8.3, or 83 billion years old. "But this isn't so," Radin explained. "Because each of us sees the universe and perceives the time of the universe through our own eyes. So if you add up the years of the universe perceived through the eyes of all those beings living in it, you get a much higher number."

Radin's argument didn't quite make sense to me. I was trying to figure out how it could be true. Radin then went on to explain how this phenomenon of multiple views of the universe actually made the universe infinite.

I had a vision of a lot of plastic, transparent cirlces, like bracelets or necklaces for little kids. The circles were all one piece, but they looked like they were made out of a number of spherical beads. The bracelets were one color. Some were yellow-green; others were orange.

I was now in "my bedroom," which had two beds in it. It was night, and my light was on. On my back wall, on the left side, near the ground, and just a little ways away from my bed, there was a huge hole. Inside the hole I saw a wooden wall which also appeared to have dirt in it. Apparently I lived in the basement. My upstairs neighbors had put this hole in my wall so things from underground could get into my room.

I suddenly had a mystical feeling, like this hole would somehow connect me with whatever it was Radin had been talking about.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

An old version of Judy Garland and an older man were in a hotel room. The hotel room was lit a little dimly, and the light had a slightly orange tinge to it. Garland sat in a nice, big chair, and the old man sat in a similar chair about a meter and a half away.

The old man was apparently interviewing Garland. I kept seeing Garland's face in close up, as if my view were the camera's view. Garland had her hair done in pigtails, kind of like she had it as Dorothy in Wizard of Oz, but a little scraggly and awry. Garland's face was skinny and kind of wrinkled. But overall she carried herself with a lot of dignity.

Garland started saying that she needed or that she wanted to do a couple of things. The old man interrupted the interview either to get something for Garland or to let her do whatever she needed to do.

It struck me that the old man acted kind of effeminate, but also kind of classy. He was obviously Garland's friend, but her kind of acted like her servant as well. He might have taken the task of being Garland's friend a little too seriously.

Dream #2

Some kind of documentary. There were a lot of shots at night of groups of decent-looking, transvestites. They were all kind of skinny and dressed in evening wear. Some even wore tiaras. They were all kind of acting rowdy, like rebels or like punks.

The documentary explained that these transvestites had joined together into a rock band as part of some plan to invade the rock world. They got into some big rock event, possibly a punk rock event, that had been full of kind of conventional acts, and they caused some sort of a scene.

But apparently, over time, the transvestite rock band got really famous. There were scenes, all night scenes, again, of girls chasing the rock band's cars around.

There was one particular guy in the group that was very popular. But he was also really depressive. There was one scene of him, probably in a dressing room, when he was all done up like a woman. He looked nice enough, but he was just so terribly depressed that it was messing up his act.

In another scene, the guy was out in a car at night, in the backseat with another person, being driven along some huge driveway in front of a large building like a mansion or a museum or a state building. The guy was only halfway done up like a girl. His hair was only halfway set in some kind of 80s style, so it looked like he'd just woken up. His face had make-up on, but his face still looked, not just masculine, but completely exhausted.

As he was being driven away, there was a pack of girls chasing the car, trying to get into the car. The guy just kept screaming, "Leave me alone! Can't you leave me alone?"

At some point there was a really aggressive girl who kept pounding on the window. It seemed less like she was infatuated with the guy and more like she actually wanted to hurt him, or at least intimidate him, let him know she hated him.

Dream #3

I was in some busy part of town, with a lot of people on the sidewalk. A lot of the stores seemed to be open to the street, like booths, but they were the size of regular small shops.

I walked past one shop which was a tattoo parlor. There were two guys or two girls who looked kind of like guys working there. They wore black jeans and black t-shirts, and their arms were covered in tattoos.

I thought out what I would tell my friend H, who loves tattoos. I would tell her, "See? There's a tattoo shop with pretty interesting people right here. And you never even looked for it. You were too afraid. But look! It's even right next to the Japanese restaurant you like to go to!"

I passed the Japanese restaurant that H and I have gone to a couple times.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in an office with my boss and the head of our department, J. J made a comment about the conditions of our company. He then said, "Well, your boss will tell you more about that." J then walked out of the office, through a doorway that may possibly have been to a stairwell.

Only my boss and I were now left on the office floor. The space was kind of narrow. There was some kind of long counter or reception desk running along the area where my boss and I stood.

My boss stood a few feet away from me. He looked a little different than IWL. His hair was cut short, and he was wearing really nice eyeglasses with no frames on the bottom of the lenses and nice, thin, black frames across the top. He was also wearing a pale, lemon-yellow shirt that looked very clean and pressed.

My boss said, "Well, I guess I should tell you it's going to happen to me next. But don't say I told you."

I understood this to mean that my boss was going to leave the company. But he'd said it so quietly and mumbled, and he'd told me not to talk about it. So I acted like it wasn't a big deal, like I almost hadn't heard him in the first place. I actually may also have hoped he'd say whatever he'd said again, since he'd mumbled and been so quiet that I wasn't quite sure I heard him correctly.

My boss was annoyed by my reaction, as if he thought what he'd said hadn't sunk into my skull at all. So, as I walked closer to him, he took out a plastic pen, kind of fatter than normal, and poked me at the top right side of my chest, and said, "Au revoir."

It was now clear that my boss was leaving the company. My boss had given me a parting gift. It was a huge book by Marguerite Duras. I don't remember the title. It was a fat paperback. It had a yellow cover, possibly with some kind of painting inside a circle on the center on the front.

My boss and I stood at the far end of the counter now. Just beyond us was an unlit area that looked like a living room, or even like two decent-sized living rooms separated from each other by some kind of partitions. The rooms were visible only by the fluorescent light of the office area and the deep blue morning or evening light coming in through the wall-sized windows.

The counter looked now more like an alcohol bar made out of office materials. My boss wandered around to the other side of the bar. As he did I told him, "Well, I'm really thankful to you. You took a chance on me when nobody else would..."

But my boss waved me off, as if to say, "Don't start with all that modesty stuff again." He came back around the bar and handed me another book. It was also by Marguerite Duras. It was much thinner than the first book. It had the same kind of yellow color. This book was titled Abe Diem----- or Abe Dies----- (can't remember the rest of the word). I figued the title was German.

Dream #2

I was walking on some concrete path with two other people. One was probably my sister. The other was a kind of fat man maybe my age or younger, maybe in his mid 20s.

It was a bright, sunny day. The path we walked on was like a sidewalk, and it was in a suburban neighborhood. But it was actually crossing some area between two grassy fields on either side of which were blocks of houses. The area we were walking through at first was narrow, as if there were some kind of construction trailer to our right.

At least my sister and I were carrying something. We both carried the objects slung over our shoulders. My sister carried one bag of something and a huge, black-metal frame almost like a bed frame. The frame had a bunch of figures molded into the empty space. The figures looked like toys, like army figures, or little toy-wrestling figures. The thing looked extremely awkward and heavy to carry. I may actually have felt this from my sister's point of view.

I was carrying a plastic bag with a huge pack of Huggies diapers in it. It wasn't very heavy at all.

I felt kind of guilty for carrying something so light and easy while my sister carried such a big, heavy frame. At some point either I or the other man suggested that we stop a moment, ostensibly to give my sister a break. The man stopped. I slowed down, unsure as to what our plan was. My sister kept going. She said she didn't need a break. And before long, she was altogether gone.

We were finally now just past the trailer or series of trailers that had made the place seem so narrow. We were in a grassy field, like a litte park. The guy had stopped right past the far end of the trailers. I'm pretty sure he hadn't been holding anything before. But now he set down a white, cloth bag and a black frame like the one my sister had.

I set down my bag with the huge pack of Huggies diapers. I was also carrying a small, black bag which had something square in it. I set the black bag on top of the Huggies bag, hoping that I could conceal the fact from the man that I was carrying all these diapers around with me.

The man now explained the black frame to me. He said you painted one side of the figures and then pressed them against a canvas. In this way you created some kind of big painting of all these figures.

There was also another frame, which may have been of copper or bronze. Not everybody had this second frame. But it produced a second layer on the paintings, which gave the figures "moveable arms." The arms really weren't moveable on the painting. But I guess what was meant was that the torso, legs, and head of the figures were one color, while the arms were another color.

In my mind's eye I saw a brownish-copper color canvas or paper dotted with gnarly, little paint-figures. The legs, torsos, and heads of the figures were black, while the arms were either white or a very pale, bright shade of purple.

Dream #3

I was in a movie theatre with a few other people. The movie theatre was huge, but there were only a few of us, all scattered through the first three or four rows of the theatre. Two people I was aware of were an older man with big, clear glasses and pale, blue eyes, and a young, pretty, blonde woman.

We were all here as part of some audition. Or we may actually already have been performing. But as part of this audition or performance we had to watch whatever movie was playing.

I may have been second row. Something felt very weird just to my left, as if the seats were gone, or as if something or someone was crowding me almost to the point of pushing against me.

The old man was in the row behind me. He tapped my left shoulder. He said to me, "See over there, in the front row? That boy? Even though he's a star, he wanted to be part of this thing, too. Heh, heh! He called his agent up directly and asked to be given a space down here today!"

I looked to the boy the man had pointed out. He seemed to look like Frankie Muniz from Malcolm in the Middle. But he wore a round-brimmed hat and big, thick eyeglasses. He sat in the front row, in one of the far left seats. He had seemed a little standoffish to me, though I'm not sure when he had seemed this way. But now he seemed shy, kind of fragile, and in need of a friend.

I was now sitting at a table, apparently in some kind of restaurant. The table was for four. To my right was a window wall which revealed the pink-peach light of early sunrise or late sunset, possibly over a body of water, like a huge lake.

The "star" sat caddy-corner from me at the table, eating something like cereal or oatmeal. I may have been eating or only drinking a cup of coffee. I suddenly recognized the "star." It was a man named Aki, a guy who DJ'd at a relief concert that had been held at the Japan Society.

I was excited to see him again, as I'd lost contact with him. But I remembered how shy and fragile he'd seemed as the "star" kid in the theatre. So I didn't speak too enthusiastically to him, or even let on that I knew who he was.

I asked him something about his life. He responded in a kind of quiet tone, like he was a little depressed. I thought I wouldn't press any more conversation, although it looked like he was probably getting ready to say a few more things on his own.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a cafe that looked more like a small deli. The space was really tight, although the store seemed to extend pretty far back. There was one narrow area that tiered up a meter or so to a narrow platform. Then there were stairsteps down to a very narrow back area with a drinks display refrigerator. Beside the narrow platform there was some kind of buffet style sevice area, with a cash register at the end, near the front of the store.

My friend R was in the cafe, sitting at some small table around a corner (?) at the back end of the platform area. I might have been surprised to meet him here, but I may also have been scheduled to meet him here.

R may have been finished eating. He had at least gotten his food. I was kind of ashamed that I was so slow that I hadn't even picked up my food yet. I needed to get food. R said something like he'd wait for me to get my food and then leave.

I was definitely thinking of a specific kind of food. I think desserts were the main thing served here. But I got an image in my head of a white cake box with a small turkey or whole cornish game hen in it.

I looked at the drinks display case for a moment, then I went to the cashier. Space felt pretty weird. Sometimes I felt like I stood higher than the cashier. Other times I felt like I didn't feel like I could order, receive, or pay for my food. I felt like my ineptitude might have been annoying the cashier. But she was remaining polite and smiling the whole time.

Dream #2

I was in a restaurant with my friend H. Another woman was following us. The woman was A, a girl who works at a cafe I go to all the time.

The restaurant was apparently a fine restaurant. But it looked kind of like a big living room in an ordinary, suburban house, filled with dining tables. The windows were smallish and high up on the walls, giving the sense that this place was sunk down a little into the ground. Everything had a blue-grey light. The carpet may have been blue. The restaurant was full of people, mostly older people.

H and I had been sitting at one table, but the girl A had followed us there. So now we'd been moved to another table. But A followed us there as well. Our table was a long table, maybe made for four or six people. A sat at a table for two which was connected with another table for two by a wooden, bench-style seat. That table was at right angles to ours, and A sat with her back to H and I.

I may have seen all of this as if I were looking at it from outside my body. I may have been wearing a round-brimmed hat, like I wore in college.

Upset that A was following us again, I decided to leave the restaurant. I managed to get H and I up and out of the restaurant at a time when A wasn't looking. We were gone, but my view remained in the restaurant.

A waitress came up to serve A. The waitress was Asian and wore a black shirt and black oants. A asked the waitress who I was and where I was going.

I probably now saw from A's point of view. She was walking along some portico area made of stone or concrete and brick. She kept passing all these clothing stores and other stores. Some of the stores were set into the brick wall. Others were on the opposite side, the open air side, of the portico, between the columns, apparently in thin air. Other stores were just signs standing up on polished metal poles.

The stores were all also like apartments. The quality of the clothes in each store indicated the quality of the apartment. A (I still saw through her eyes) was looking through all these stores to find out which one indicated the apartment I lived in.

As she did this, she had a thought-conversation with a woman who seemed to be an older, guiding figure in her life. I'd occasionally see the woman's face fading before A's view, like a ghostly double-exposure on a photo.

A finally walked past one store which didn't look like a store at all. It actually looked like the sliding doors of an elevator, except made out of pale wood. The doors were also almost 3 meters tall. There were some words in gold or bronze lettering that gave the name of the store, some store for really good men's suits. This, A assumed, was where I lived, or that this was the clothing store that indicated what kind of apartment I live in.

A was now convinced that I was some kind of billionaire. I don't think her plan was right away to follow me into this store, which now, at least, actually did lead to my apartment. I think she planned to come up with some way to blackmail me or trick me into being with her so she could have my money.

But then A (I still seeing through her eyes) saw a man standing in the doorway of the store, as if the doors swung open instead of sliding open. The man was white, about average height, a little stocky, but muscly. He had close-shaved hair on his head and a little stubble on his face. He wore a brown or grey blazer, a green, button-up shirt, and blue jeans.

The man may have been inviting A into the store. I think that A now figured that she would go into the store and try to find my apartment.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

Some kind of disaster had occurred. It may have been a bomb of some kind. The force of this disaster had been so great that it blew an entire garbage dump into another location.

I saw an Asian woman, maybe in her late fifties, sitting inside her house. The house was small and empty. It was just one room, maybe 4m by 4m. The walls were probably made of wood and were dark. The only furniture in the house was a bench along the left wall. The woman sat on the bench.

The woman's hair was in disarray, as if blown out of shape by the wind and set in place by sand and grime. The woman was wearing a dress of rough, dark fabric. She seemed to be studying something. She may actually have been some kind of scientist.

The front doorway of the house had no door in it. I saw outside, to the piles of garbage that had been blown over in front of the woman's house.

Dream #2

Some historical event which involved a group of scientists or businessmen in Philadelphia and Pittsburgh. In relation to this I may have seen film footage from the 1920s.

I was now in a nice restaurant with my mother and grandmother. It was like we, mostly my mom and grandma, had been discussing the historical event. Now the discussion was done and I had my normal awareness again.

The table we sat at was really long and possibly full of eating implements, though we three were the only ones sitting at it. I sat at the head of the table, and my mom and grandma sat near me on the left and right side. The restaurant was busy with people but calm. Natural light apparently came in through some bigs windows behind me.

I told my mom and grandma, "Well, speaking of Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, have you heard of -----?" I had named somebody who was apparently a scientist in the area.

Dream #3

A FedEx truck was in front of a UPS truck. They were both stopped, but they were on a road and could have started moving again at any moment.

A young man who may have been Latino, kind of skinny, with short-shaved hair and a thin mustache, jumped out of the back of the FedEx truck. He wore a FedEx shirt and black denim shorts that went down to or just below his knees.

Just as the young man had jumped out of the FedEx truck, the UPS truck rolled forward a tiny bit. The young man did some weird flinching move, rolling and twitching his head downward and kind of spinning around a bit. The young man barely missed getting hit. He walked away by the driver's side of the UPS truck.

Dream #4

I was looking at a big sheet of paper or a big sign made to look like an old sheet of paper. It was a list of people who had done research into zero-point energy. The words were all blurry. But the font looked like the stereotypical lettering for wanted posters in the old west.

Dream #5

I was in some room which may have had dark floors and dark walls. At least one other person was in the room with me. He was an artist. He may have been trying to teach me something.

I suddenly had a vision of a clay-red pyramid on a horizonf of grass before a white-grey sky. I got really excited about and absorbed in this vision. Then the vision was before me, as a painting.

The man kind of forgot what he had been teaching me. He seemed to think whatever I was doing with this painting was just fine.

I now walked out of the room with the painting folded slightly in my hands, so the pyramid was still visible. The paper may have had a weird, rough feeling to it. It was paper, not canvas. But it was a rough kind of paper. The painting was folded up with a number of other paintings as well.