maboroshi

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in an audience, probably on the far left side, a few rows back from the front, in a zoo-theatre. On the stage were two workers, one at the front of the stage and one at the back. The one at the back of the stage wore a white jumpsuit and cap and may have been mopping the floor. The one at the front stood before two "polar bears."

The two "bears" stood up and were on the right (my right) side of the stage. The stood next to each other, side to side, so that it was hard for me to see the one in the back. The one toward the front, however, did not look much like a real polar bear, but like a mix between a polar bear and the huge, shaggy dog on Sesame Street. It was all shaggy, and its face, except a huge, black nose, was covered over with shaggy fur.

It was like I had come in in the middle of the worker's act. He was telling everybody how he could freeze a polar bear so that it wouldn't hurt him, even when he got close to it. He was now standing right in front of the front polar bear (which towered over him), repeating the words, "Don't move, don't move." He may also have been stroking the bear's right arm.

The bear didn't move, and it only seemed to be slightly annoyed by the zoo worker. The zoo-worker then said that this was all a matter of training, and that on some days the training still didn't work. So it was kind of a dangerous thing to do.

The bear now turned toward us in the audience. I was now in the very front row, on the very far right side, very close to the front polar bear. The bear, turning to us, made a weird motion with his arms, like a magician's gesture, and made a "sshha!" sound, which was also supposed to be magic.

Nobody reacted to the bear. I don't think anybody knew or cared what it was doing. But I understood. The bear wanted to hypnotize and freeze somebody else. He wanted the hypnotizing relationship to be reciprocal, so that he could feel he had a little control over the situation. So I did my best to act hypnotized and frozen, to make the polar bear feel good.

The worker was now over at the left side of the stage. He lifted a baby polar bear out of something like a cradle or one of those clear hospital beds for newborns. The baby bear looked like an actual animal. But it was long and greyish, like a seal, with arms and legs like a polar bear.

The worker said the baby bear was just at the beginning of its training, so that the worker's ability to freeze the baby bear would be less predictable. But the worker thought he could do it. But as soon as he tried, the baby bear took a swipe with his sharp claws at the worker's mouth.

The worker said, "Whoa!" and put the baby bear back in its bed. He then told the audience, "Yeah, I don't think we can do it today. The baby bear isn't being agreeable."

Dream #2

I, possibly as someone else, was in a small boat in something like a Venetian (?) canal at night. I saw myself as if from behind and separated by ten meters or so.

The canal was much wider than usual, and it was in the midst of a town that looked almost as if it were made only of wooden frames and scaffolding. The whole thing was very still, and it was lit from above with something like stage lights.

My small boat was close to a small, wooden dock, at which knelt a kind of young, handsome, Arabic man. The man had a moderate mustache and a slightly stubbly face. He wore robes and a small, wrapped headdress. He had given me some kind of advice, which I accepted. I was now rowing, or simply drifting, away in my boat.

I was now in an airplane, possibly with my brother. The plane was crashing into the ocean, not far from some small island.

There was some kind of narration over the event, possibly as a memory from a female passenger. She said something about how everybody was acting okay as the plane crashed. But, she said, once the plane flipped upside-down, it was extremely difficult for everybody to stay composed. It was even painful.

I hadn't remembered the plane flipping over. I thought, Is that really how it's going to happen? I don't know if I can take it!

But the plane flipped over and crashed into the water. As it flipped over and crashed, I seemed to be separated from the whole situation, as if only imagining in my head all the different painful possibilities of being flipped upside-down in an airplane, crashing my head against the ceiling, etc.

There was a lot of panicked feeling, but it all kind of faded away. The scene faded into my brother and I floating in the boat on the canal. We had drifted out toward the center of the canal. We sat up and began rowing our way back to the sides.

There had been some huge storm and flood in the canal. My brother and I had barely survived. But the water levels were now back to normal. Things were calm.

We were rowing our way to a portion of the canal that was light with morning light, not dark, like the previous portion of canal (still) was. We rowed in the water between two long, wooden docks. On the platform at the end of and between the two docks stood the Arabic man. I realized that the advice this man had given me had saved me and my brother.

I somehow left my brother on the front end of the left dock. I rowed back toward the end.

I approached the man. He either reached out or bent over to help me up to the dock. He also had an object in his hand. It looked like some kind of NERF toy. It was a hot-pink circle outline against a black circle of fabric, like some kind of pad for catching velcro balls.

I was very grateful for the man's advice. I wanted to prove it in a really personal way. So I asked the man, "How do you say 'thank you' in Arabic?"

The man asked, "Arabic?" He stood up and looke a little confused, maybe even uneasy. I noticed that a couple other men were with the Arabic man. They were all doing some kind of work in the city behind them. The city may have been white stone buildings or more of the wood-frame structures. The whole scene was bathed in gentle, yellow sunlight.

I was worried the man wasn't Arabic. But he finally answered something like, "Meretas," or, "Muhretas."

I was still in the boat, rowing back toward the front of the dock. The man walked alongside me, or a little behind, on the left (as I had approached them) dock. The man and I were discussing something.

I was working a little too hard to make the man feel at ease. I still felt like I had somehow offended him by asking him how to say "thank you" in Arabic. I felt like he now also regarded me suspiciously. I was trying to prove I wasn't suspicious.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A TV interview show, like Oprah, with two people on the stage. One of the people was a black-Latino man. The other may have been a black man. They both sat in swivel chairs on a smallish, slightly raised, circular platform. The black-Latino man sat on the left.

The black-Latino man had been diagnosed with HIV about twenty years ago. But he was still really healthy. In fact, I thought, he may have been even healthier than the other man on stage, who didn't have HIV.

Dream #2

I was in an office, sitting at a cubicle. I was kind of slouched back in my chair, maybe with a knee pressing against the edge of my desk. I could see the CPU for my computer on the desk. It was taller and wider than usual, and pale grey.

Somebody, possibly a pretty woman who was my boss, tossed a cardboard box on my desk. I opened it. Inside was some kind of pale grey device that looked like an electric label maker. It was long and narrow, with a keypad of yellow, red, and green buttons. It had some sort of rolling tape or paper dispenser coming out the top. I knew or learned, somehow, that this was a new device from Apple.

I knew that this device probably wasn't mine. But I figured I'd hook it up to my computer and use it anyway. I didn't even know what the device did.

I found some wires in the box. I then learned the instructions for the device -- somehow -- I didn't read any instructions or look at any papers or anything. I knew that the device sednt messages to the office printer. The printer then printed these messages out.

The device had to be connected by wires to the printer through a long, complicated process. I thought the process was too long. I didn't want the device anymore. I put it back in the box.

My boss, the pretty woman, sat down in the cubicle behind me. I realized the device had been meant for her. I said, relaxedly, as if it were true, "I was just looking at this new device you got. I was trying to see if I could hook it up to your computer for you, so you don't have to. I think I can do it."

There was now a view of Bill Gates, or somebody who looked like him, except, possibly, with no glasses and skinnier eyes. Bill Gates was surrounded by a group of people in a space that looked kind of like an office, a kitchen, and some kind of science lab, near a window on some high up floor of a skyscraper.

Bill Gates was talking as if he were the head of Apple. He was saying that he hadn't actually made a really big deal regarding some kind of copyright or patent dispute over one of his products. He didn't actually care too much about it.

Bill Gates now lifted up a device. It was like a water-pitcher. But it was as big as a CPU column, and it was shaped like the Apple logo. It had a grey-tan outline, and a body of clear, smoky-grey plastic. Gates was pouring out glasses of water for everybody.

But I was trying to get a better view of this device (as if I were watching onTV). The device, I knew, was some kind of computer device. It had some kind of mechanism at its mouth, where the water poured out. I just couldn't see what it was.

I was now standing before a desk, at which sat a guy I know from a Starbucks I go to. The guy was apparently trying to sell me works of art. The guy was flipping through the pages of a book. I had probably seen the paintings I had wanted already, as if I had already looked through the book. But the guy was flipping through the pages so quickly that I wasn't sure if we'd gotten to or passed the pictures of the paintings.

Finally I told the guy something about how I'd look for the pictures more carefully -- probably just by looking through the book myself. The guy kind of acted annoyed. He started talking with a friend of his. I got worried that the guy was getting bored with me. I wondered if I was being too specific with the pictures I wanted. I thought maybe I should just take one that I thought looked kind of like the ones I wanted.

But I also really liked the pictures, and I thought my choice would also be interesting and impressive to the guy as well. I remembered one picture, black and white, of a Millet-like painting of two people standing out on the field. I kept searching for this painting, but I couldn't find it.

But I found the second painting I was looking for. This was of a big shrub on a field of clumpy grass, possibly with a little cabin in the distance. The photo of this painting was also in black and white.

I was apparently going to buy the photos, and not the paintings themselves. Also -- possibly -- the photos I'd buy would also be the pages from this book -- like the guy would cut the pages out of this book and sell them to me.

Good morning, everybody.

Dragon #1

It was black night. I was walking to a cafe, probably because I thought I was going to meet some friends there, in particular my old friend ML. I may actually have known ML was going to be at the cafe, though he hadn't invited me. I may have decided to show up at the cafe, in spite of his not inviting me, just so he'd know I knew.

I was in some small shopping plaza, possibly at the edge of a smallish residential area in a suburban town. The shopping plaza was three stories tall. It was a series of buildings, kind of like office buildings. The shops were all connected to each other by outdoor balconies. I stood between the buildings in a big, concrte courtyard. I felt like the cafe was in the basement level of one of these buildings.

I may then have been out by a bridge, somewhere near the banks of a river. I was working on some kind of box, like an electrical box attached to some kind of short, stout, concrete pole. The "box" may have been something more like a simple switch. The switch may have been in decent condition, but the metal base around the switch may have been really rusty. I may have heard some weird, whistling sound, which may have frightened me.

I was in some room, probably with three other people. The room we were in felt a little like a living room. But the room was so big and empty and cold-feeling that it seemed more like some kind of business room. There was a huge window-wall looking out on the black night.

One of the three other people was an older man, probably dressed nicely. He was like a boss to the rest of us. Another was a woman, about my age (early 30s), dressed like a business woman. The third person was probably a man.

The boss told us something we should get started working on. But he told us, as he seemed to be leaving the room, that we should avoid going down to the bridge. The man now seemed to be touching a glass case, trying to get an electric reaction out of something else in the case.

The man told us that certain monitoring equipment was picking up a strange noise down there. The noise, the man told us (although I heard it at the same time) was like a phone picking up, with a conversation way in the distance. But the noise would soon turn to a shrill buzzing. This kind of noise indicated ghost activity, though I don't think the man said this directly.

I suddenly remembered my own experience near the bridge. I didn't tell the man about it. Instead, I tried to question the man more on the characteristics of the sound. I got a little more info from the man.

The person who had had the ghost experience was now a woman. After hearing the info regarding the ghost bridge, the woman seemed to have become distracted and dazed. The man had told the other people to keep the woman from going to the bridge. But the woman was definitely going to try to go back.

At first it seemed like the people were all staying in different cabins in some kind of wildnerness area. The woman snuck away from her cabin without anybody noticing. She was running down through a well-manicured but large garden area and down to the bridge. She wore a Victorian-style dress, probably white on top and pale, sea-blue on the skirt. She also had red hair, done up and back in a round, Victorian style.

Now it was like all the people were staying in one big mansion. But the woman had escaped the mansion. She was riding a bike on a garden path between two rows of very tall, euonymus-type shrubs. At one point, she turned a corner. As soon as she turned the corner, a man, also dressed in Victorian clothing, stood up and began pursuing the woman.

The man knew what path the woman was taking. He also knew paths he could take as shortcuts, so that he could cut the woman off, even though she was on a bike and he was on foot. There was water somewhere, coming from something like a fountain or a lawn sprinkler.

The woman was riding through a section of path with the hedges so thick on either side that she couldn't see anything else. Suddenly the man grabbed the woman from behind. He pulled her off her bike, spun her around, and embraced her. The man acted like he was in love with the woman -- maybe he was. The woman and the man embraced and kissed.

The man and woman were now in a bedroom. But now the man was a woman. The two women were kissing, and it looked like they were going to end up in bed together. But the first woman broke free of the second woman. She took on a dazed kind of attitude again and said that she had to go away. It was pretty obvious that she was going to try togo to the ghost bridge, though she may not have said it.

The second woman lay down in bed. She was partly frustrated that she hadn't gotten to have sex with the first woman. But she was also frustrated that she hadn't been able to keep the woman from trying to go back to the ghost bridge.

The second woman now pulled a hood over her head. (The second woman also had red hair, though her hair was darker than the first woman's hair.) The woman wore a pale sea-blue nightgown. The hood was a part of the gown. But it was a wizard's hood. The woman said something like, "We'll see about that girl! She thinks she can just go like that when she's been kept from the place. I'll pay her back for acting that way."

The second woman lay her head on her pillow. It looked like she was going to fall asleep. But I felt like she was going to try and perform some kind of magic action against the first woman.

I now sat in a cafe, which was more like a waiting area in some place like a college or a hospital. It was like the ghost bridge incidents had been from a movie I'd been watching, and that I had just now been deep in a reverie regarding the memories of that movie. I had also remembered some background tune from the movie, and I was humming it to myself.

I sat on the arm of an orange, thickly cushioned chair. I was looking out a big window, to some lawny area like in a city park. It was daytime, and the light was bright grey outside. A skinny, young, black man sat at a picnic bench near the window. I knew the man was following me. He couldn't come into the cafe for some reason or another. So he had to wait outside for me.

I was kind of sick of being followed around by this guy, and I was wishing there was some way I could stop him. But I also seemed to be really preoccupied with the imagery of the ghost bridge "movie."

Somebody else in the "cafe" started brashly humming a terribly out of key tune. It suddenly drew attention to the fact that I was still humming the background music from the ghost bridge "movie." I stopped huming as soon as I realized that I'd been humming loud enough for other people to hear.

I sat there silently, still staring out the window, though I couldn't see out the window very well anymore. My focus was more on the man, who kept humming horribly out of key.

I looked to my left, to the man, who sat in a chair, reading a newspaper. The man was old, from some Latin-European country, I guessed. He wore an orange polo shirt. He was short, and he was good looking, but he also looked kind of mean and rude. Another old man was sitting at the end of a couch, directly to the first old man's right. This man was a little taller, pale skinned, a little overweight, and bald.

I looked away from the old men. I figured that now that I'd stopped humming, the man would also stop humming. But he only began to hum even louder! I was like he was trying to annoy me, rather than trying to say anything about how I'd been humming too loud. I was getting kind of mad, because the guy just kept humming louder and louder and more and more off key.

But, finally, the second old man said, "Look! You don't like it when people do things like that? Then don't do those kinds of things yourself!"

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a dark bedroom. The door was open a crack, and there was also a slim window running along the right (my right) side of the door. The door and window opened out to a hallway full of fluorescent light. It was like I was in a dorm room. There was a bed against the wall to the right of the door.

There seemed to be somebody walking out in the hallway. He didn't seem to trust me, or else he didn't seem to like the fact that I was around. I myself didn't quite feel like I belonged here. I may have been hoping I could get out of here soon.

I was pacing back and forth in the bedroom. I paced toward the door and turned around. I was about to start walking away from the door when the man somehow got a hold of me. He either told me or handed me a note saying that I needed to paint a bench.

I knew what bench the man had been talking about. I realized I had forgotten to paint it. This was somehow a relief to me. I felt like now I had a task I had to take care of, I really had a reason to stay here. Before, I realized, I had been almost arrogantly insisting that I didn't have to be here, as if I was better than this place. But now that I had a task, I could focus on the task and keep a humble outlook on where I deserved to be.

I was in a living room with a few other people, some of whom may have been my family members. The living room also felt a little like an artist's studio or workshop. The floor were concrete and paint-spattered. The walls were bare white plaster. The light was a very harsh, raspy incandescent. There seemed to be a TV blaring somewhere. And everybody either seemed to be busy or distracted.

I knelt down to a wooden bench about knee-high and maybe three meters long. The bench had been painted white. But either the paint had started chipping off or else the paint job I had given the bench had been so bad that I'd missed patches of the bench altogether. So I needed to fill in the unpainted patches with white paint.

I was painting the bench and thinking about painting. At first I may have been doing a good job of painting the bench. But at some point I may have wondered if it really was a good plan to put new paint among all the stretches of old paint. I didn't think the old paint and new paint would look very good together.

Then I realized that the paint I was laying on the bench wasn't actually "sticking." It would disappear only a while after I painted the patch. It seemed like either the paint evaporated away or like the paint just sank into the wood. I then realized that I had forgotten to lay a coat of primer before I lay the coat of white paint on the bench. But I didn't have any primer here.

I stood up. I had to head out and grab some primer. For some reason, Lewis Carroll was in the living room. He may have been the last person I said goodbye to before I went to grab the primer. He may have said something encouraging about my painting job so far.

I was now walking around in the parking lot of some huge shopping center or mall. It was either late night or early morning. Some of the stores were open, including a huge grocery store that didn't have any doors on its front, just a huge opening.

I walked past a few huge stores. I seemed to be confused about what I needed to get. I either couldn't quite remember what I'd needed to get, or else I couldn't figure out where I needed to get it.

I now remembered where I needed to go. But the store was closed, and it wouldn't open for a couple of hours. But I needed the stuff now. I needed to get back home and paint the bench for something like a birthday party. But I wasn't going to be on time. I somehow knew this.

I suddenly remembered that I needed primer. It suddenly dawned on me that I could have gotten primer at any time during the past few days. But I'd waited and waited and never gotten it. Now it was too late. I was desperately disappointed with myself. I had done stuff like this before in my life. Would I ever learn how to just do things on time, instead of always waiting until it was too late?

I was about to start crying, I was so disappointed with myself. But, right then, I got a call on my cell phone. It was my mom. She very quickly told me she'd speak with me in a moment. I then heard her getting on the phone with someone else. I dropped the phone from my ear and thought, Oh, god. Here's another one of these calls where my mom gets all dramatic and then tells me something that isn't bad or dramatic at all.

I put the phone back to my ear. I was walking past a store, another store with no doors, just a huge opening. So I walked inside, thinking I might be able to find something, maybe primer. The store actually looked like some kind of home improvement store.

My mom appeared to be talking to some kind of hospital, even though I couldn't hear the person my mom was talking to. My mom said something about trying to get information about my brother. He had been taken to the hospital for some emergency.

I thought that this sounded serious after all. My mom had some information on my brother. She gave it to the operator, to find out where my brother was. The info was like a room number or something. The operator put my mom on hold.

My mom came back to talking to me. She said, "Your brother has thrown himself to the ground." I understood this to mean that my brother had attempted or committed suicide by throwing himself off a multi-story building.

I said, "No," in a flat, but panicked voice. I was about to lose control of myself and start pleading, "No, no, no!" into the phone. But I didn't I was too afraid that the hospital operator would hear me (even though I couldn't hear her), think I was being disruptive, and hang up before giving my mom any information on my brother.

I walked over to an ATM to get some money to buy whatever it was I was here to buy. As I walked over to the ATM, I pulled the phone away from my ear. I had some web page regarding the hospital on my screen. The text was black, with some passages of text in tan-orange lettering. The screen was kind of like visiting or facilities information. I kind of got the impression that this place wasn't a hospital in the conventional sense.

As I got to the ATM, before I could even slide my card through, my mom was back on with the operator. She said something like, "He did? When? Well, it would have been really nice if someone had told me this earlier." It was obvious my mom was terribly sad and angry. She wanted to burst into tears. But she kept her temper with the operator, sounding pretty well composed, though slightly irritated.

I understood, before my mom even got back on the phone with me, that my brother had died. The hospital really only called to tell my mom this because they couldn't hold onto the body. They needed someone to take it away. Otherwise, they might never have called my mom.

My mom told the operator she'd be right back. She put the operator on hold. She got back on with me and said, "Your brother died at 4:15 AM this morning."

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

There was some kind of temple, which almost looked like an indoor sports arena. There seemed to be a huge crowd of people all around, with pale, cold, white spotlights on the center of the arena.

There was an altar, which was like a stone cube jutting up from the floor. The altar was burning hot and blackened with heat and smoke. A person was chained on the altar. The person's legs were chained from above, so that the legs were lifted a couple of inches above the rest of the body. The arms were possibly chained to the side of the person's body. The person may also have had some kind of blackened blanket over the torso and upper legs.

The person being burnt on the altar wasn't just being burnt as part of some religious ritual. The person knew or did something against some powerful people. So the person was being ritually murdered. I may also have thought that something I had done had angered the powerful people. So when they sacrificed the person, it was to punish me. And the person who got sacrificed would know this as well as I did.

I saw a few white pieces or paper or white screens with black writing on them. The black writing was broken up by occasional words printed in orange lettering. The highlighted words were probably one recurrent word. The recurrent word seemed really important to me. (So of course I've forgotten it now.)

I saw the altar again. This time I got a good glimpse of the person chained on the altar. He looked like a black-Hispanic man with lightish brown skin. He was kind of muscular. He had "tribal"-style tattoos on his shoulders and arms and, maybe, his chest. He seemed to be writhing in pain. Parts of his body were already blackened by being on the altar -- from either the heat or the smoke.

I followed the priest from the altar to some other spot on the stage. The priest may have been a man very much like the man being sacrificed. He may also have been a wizard-like figure, with a long beard and dressed in a long, black or brown robe with a huge hood.

I looked to the altar again. There was now an Asian woman on the altar. She was naked, except for the blanket over her. Her uncharred skin was pale. But she was mostly charred or smoke-blackened. She seemed to be in a great deal of pain. She was sweating a lot and writhing around a lot, trying to get out of the heavy chains.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was on a dark stage with a group of guys. The guys were something like rock stars or performers. I'm not sure whether the stage was in a large or a small venue. Sometimes the atmosphere seemed very small, almost like a coffee shop or a bar. Other times, it seemed like the five guys were addressing a huge crowd, almost like at a political convention.

The stage itself seemed sometimes to be more like a small coffee shop or bar, or even a living room. I could see rugs, tables, and lamps. I might even once have seen a small hallway leading back to another room.

The five guys were going away. This might have been their last performance ever. So, partly for the crowd's sake, but partly for my own sake, the five guys gave some kind of inspirational speech. They each took a turn speaking. As the person would speak, a spotlight would shine on him.

The five speeches were somehow connected. They began in some kind of historical context. They had to do with something like fighting for liberty. Then they moved on to how people shouldn't lose hope, and what kinds of things they could do to keep fighting for liberty.

All the time, while each person was talking, I was touching the speaking person's face. I could see each person just fine. But the way I was touching the people's faces was like I couldn't see the people's faces, and like I was trying to understand what they were like.

The final person, while I was touching his face, began to laugh a little. I got the impression that he thought I was doing this because I wasn't taking his speech seriously. So I tried to touch his face more seriously. I began tapping his forehead and his chin with a fist like a cat-paw, not closed all the way, but kind of flat.

I may have been a little kid at this point, or maybe all through the dream.

Dream #2

I was at a service counter at a FedEx. A pretty woman with olive skin, black hair, and black eyes told me something about whatever I was here to do. She said something like things would be ready for me in a while, so I should come back.

I thanked the woman and walked away from the counter. I was now in a department store. I was walking around some display areas with really nice dark grey or black slacks. The area all around was also nice, kind of dimly lit, with dark green or blue carpeting. All the display stands also seemed to be made of a nice kind of wood.

A few other guys came up around me. There were some tall, white guys and at least one Asian guy. They were all dressed nice, probably in dark blue blazers, pale blue shirts, and khaki slacks. They were all talking with each other, possibly about some kind of business meeting they'd all been to. But they were all hanging around and looking at the pants near me, I could tell, because they assumed, for some reason, that I had good taste in pants (???).

I was back in some line, which, as I faced it, looked like a checkout line for this department or clothing store. The cashier counters looked very nice, all made out of heavy wood. They almost looked like bank counters. I was near the front of the line.

One of the Asian guys was in front of me, talking to some of the other business guys, who were behind me. This guy wasn't as well dressed as the others. He wore a maroon polo shirt and khaki slacks.

They were all talking about something having to do with the military. It was like they had just been to some convention for military scientific projects. There may have been certain aspects of the technology that they either hadn't understood or had been bored by. But there had been a woman there who had really absorbed and processed all the information.

The Asian man was now kind of giggling a little, like you would after seeing some kind of daring feat. He then said, almost looking at me, as if he felt I had been listening to and understanding the conversation, "Well, I guess that she is a HLA." (He pronounced "HLA" as "hullay.") I assmed that "HLA" meant "High-Level Analyst."

I was now up at the Fedex counter, coming to take care of whatever I had been told to take care of. The woman I had come to was the same woman as before. She had been pretty friendly before. But now she was really rude.

She had an envelope, which I knew was for me. But she was kind of angry that this envelope could be for me. She didn't want it to be mine. She didn't want to give it to me. She told me to give her my ID. I did. She seemed to be going through every number on my ID. Then she was going through every number, every digit, on the envelope.

She began tapping her fingernails on the counter, trying to find some kind of numerical reason not to give me my package. She was getting mad that she couldn't. I had a feeling she didn't even want to give me my ID back.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

There was a girl who hung out with some extremely fashionable people, possibly Andy Warhol's entourage. She had either darkly tanned or copper-brown skin. Her body was lovely. But her head was very strange.

From her forehead back, her head was like a flat disk, like a plate. It was hairless and a little bit mottled. On either side of this disk, almost at the sides of the woman's cheeks, were eyes. The eyes were quite wide, pale, with very tiny pupils.

I saw the woman in two scenes. In the first scene, which I can't remember very well, the woman was indoors, in some place like a fashionable club. In the second scene, the woman was walking on some brick path beside a house, drinking some can of juice or soda. In this second scene, the girl was wearing a long, stylish, but very summery, green dress.

I noticed that the girl's mouth and chin were both very small. Her mouth was almost all the way down to her chin. I thought the girl must have had some kind of disease that had deformed her face.

I now heard the woman talk, as if in narration. She had been an orphan, but it had been very hard for her to find a home, due to her deformity.

Another female narrator now explained that her situation had been similar with that of a boy. I now saw the boy laying in the back of a car. He was little, maybe eight years old. He had shaggy, brown hair, and he wore a white t-shirt and khaki shorts. He told the camera (?), "I've been to a number of different homes. But nobody's wanted me -- because of my problem."

I wondered what the boy's problem was. He didn't look deformed. But I suddenly saw his chest, for just an instant. The boy had a healed-over puncture wound, very deep, in his chest, just up and to the right of his colar plexus. The wound looked just like somebody had stabbed a sign-post into the boy's chest. I took this wound to mean that the boy had heart problems.

The boy continued, "I went to the libraries to do research on my disease. But they didn't have much about it. But I studied whatever I could find."

I had a view of the boy in the library, typing at a computer. It looked like he was on some kind of black and white, text-only page on the internet. But it was just the library catalog. I thought to myself, It's a real sign of the times that, whenever this documentary was made, all you could do on a computer at a library was look up what books they had at that specific library. But nowadays, if you have the right keywords, you can do tons of research on just about anything.

The woman narrator now spoke about how she went to the library the boy had gone to, so she could see for herself how little information the library had regarding the boy's disease.

I was now far out in a big town, which I may have thought of as Brooklyn. I was way out at the end of town, but I needed to get back home. It was daytime, and the streets were really packed. I was looking for a subway station. I kept zig-zagging through various crowded streets, hearing people's conversations. I kept finding subway stations, but they were never the right ones.

One subway station was elevated maybe five or six meters above ground. It was set into a concrete stairway which had shrub-filled planters all along it. This appeared to be a station for one of the green trains (4, 5, or 6 line in New York). But it also seemed like the station was closed, even taped off with yellow police tape.

I wandered down a straight road filled with people and cars and tall buildings. There was noise and rushing everywhere. I may have done more zig-zagging through the streets, looking for a police station.

I was now in a quiet, suburban neighborhood, walking up to a driveway on the right side of a house, coming from the front of the house. As I did, a 12- or 13-year-old girl came walking up beside me. She was only wearing a pair of yellow briefs-style panties. She had pale skin and brown hair down to just above her shoulders.

I was in some bathroom. I had a huge mustache, and maybe a huge goatee. I was trimming my hair. I realized that the more I cut off, the better I looked. I wondered what would happen if I just cut the whole thing off.

I was back out in front of the house. In my memory, I heard a black man telling me how it would be bad if I kept thinking about the little girl whom I'd seen topless. He said that something like that was bound to get me in trouble.

I was now walking back over to the driveway. At the curb, the driveway had something over it, like a gate of garlands, through which a new bride might walk on her way up the aisle at an outdoor wedding.

Just coming through the gate was what appeared to be some kind of creepy guy. It looked like the guy was trying to catch up to me and elbow in front of me for some reason. So I sped up my walking to get to the house's side door before the creepy guy could get to me.

But then the person called out to me, not by name, just something like, "Hey!" I looked at the person and realized it was just the girl again. She was naked, again, except for her yellow briefs. The girl held a white, terry-cloth summer dress in her hands. But she didn't look like she was going to put it on.

The girl's body was a little weird to me. She was pretty thin, but her bottom was a little bigger than would seem to be proportional with her torso. The girl also had two "breasts," which were more like two little nubs of flesh with nipples on top, very close to each other at the center of her chest.

The girl seemed to be pretty interested in me. She said, "Yeah, I'm studying -----." (I forgot what she was studying.) We got in the house. We were in a hallway. At the far end of the hallway I saw a room off to the left, with orange walls, where my mom was sleeping on a low mattress or couch.

The girl and I walked into a room near the front of the hallway and off to the right. The room was small and plain, with just a mattress on the floor and a white sheet draped against the back wall. There may also have been a loose door or a long wood board leaning against the wall near or under the sheet.

The girl was continuing to talk about her study project. Apparently it was all a real pain in the neck. Now she needed to use a computer for some research. So she'd come back here, apparently to use my mom's desktop.

But we were apparently in this room because the little girl wanted me to have sex with her here. I was thinking it probably wasn't a good idea, because I didn't want my mom to wake up and discover us. But I also felt like if I wouldn't get in trouble, I should probably just have sex with the little girl. She seemed to be really curious. I thought I should help satisfy her curiosity.

Dream #2

(I had fallen asleep while "rehearsing" the memories of my first dream.)

I stood in a dark room of a museum with a woman and possibly another person, maybe a man. The woman was very business-like, professional looking. The walls of the museum were either black or not lit at all.

The woman and I stood before a painting of some dramatic scene, like a Redcoat soldier on a hill during the Revolutionary War. But it was done in a very realistic style, like that of Millet (?), except more watery. The sky was a slushy blue, and the hill was like washy waves of green, dotted with white flowers. The Redcoat seemed to be collapsing. He may already have been down on one knee.

The style struck me as very dramatic and beautiful. But suddenly I realized the painting was a pointillist painting -- a style of painting I generally don't like very much.

I told the woman that this might be one of the very few pointillist paintings I actually like. I gave a description of the painting. As I did, I suddenly thought, Wait a minute! This isn't a memory from one of my dreams! What the heck am I doing here?

The painting seemed to start changing, a black, comic-book style painting "burning" out from underneath it, from the middle outwards.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

There was a view of outer space, as if part of some documentary. The view swept between a bright star and, probably, two planets which were very close to each other. As it did, a narrator spoke about how the earth was in danger and how people should work to save the environment. But everything the narrator said seemed wrong. She seemed to mistake all the problems and come up with really silly solutions.

As the narrator began talking about the problems on Earth regarding our water supply, the view swept down to "Earth," one of the two close-together planets. The planet was dark from high up in space. It looked like it was mostly dark, barren land with only a few wisps of clouds floating over it.

The narrator's comments again seemed to annoy me with being so off-track. The view now seemed to sweep under some wispy cloud, possibly near a small, sharp mountain. I understood that I was supposed to be watching a space ship taking off somewhere.

I was now on earth, at some place like an air base, looking up into the sky. It may have been late afternoon. The sky was cool, pale, tinged with pink. I seemed to have just finished watching a space ship or an airplane launching into the sky. I now turned my gaze back toward the ground.

I was with two other "people." One of them was actually a computer-graphics car, like the red car from the movie Cars. The other person, and even I myself, may also have been CG cars.

We headed across a stretch of concrete, over to a pick-up truck, which was not CG and not alive. We (cars) were apparently going to ride this pick-up truck away from the base. As we headed over to the pick-up truck, we talked about the environment, as if continuing the narrator's speech. I think I disagreed with everything said, but I spoke and laughed as if I agreed.

We all got in the truck. I got in the bed of the truck, which was covered by a little shell. I got in by swinging myself under a horizontal bar placed just unde the roof of the shell. I'm pretty sure at this point I was a car. Even in the back of the truck I was continuing my talk with the other two people about the environment.

Dream #2

I was in a cluttered living room with two other people. I may have been kneeling before a couch piled with papers and other stuff, possibly including some kind of sheer or lacy blanket.

One of the people, who I never saw, was my friend. I'd come to this place with my friend to plan some kind of party. The house bellonged to the other person, a tall, kind of skinny man with olive-colored skin, longish, frizzy, black hair, and plastic-rimmed glasses.

We were looking through piles of photos or headshots. We were trying to match something about the headshots with something about the attitude of the party, to decide how to make the party and who to invite.

I ran across a kind of strange photo of a girl. She was maybe ten or eleven years old, and she had a kind of nerdly look. But something else about her made her look like a robot. It was like I could see that under her short skirt there was a bunch of gears and machinery.

My friend (a woman?) saw that I found the photo a little strange. She snatched the photo out of my hands. Something about the girl was a secret, and the woman figured I was just about to ask what that secret was. The woman said, "This little girl was his (the man's) daughter."

The man seemed to understand that I had caught on that the girl looked like a robot. The man, kind of as a confession, told me that the girl had been a robot. She had been like a daughter to him. But apparently she was no longer alive.

Dream #3

I was in some strange, small space with my brother and sister and my mom's ex-boyfriend, TV. The place was supposed to be like a store. It looked like a mix between a sidewalk newsstand and an unfinished basement. The counter and front shelf were really small. The shelf area and the back area, behind the counter were lit with a kind of yellowy, fluorescent light. But evertyhing else was dark.

TV stood behind the counter. My brother and sister stood before it. They were both little kids again. I stood off to their left, in shadows. I may have been a little kid, too.

The shelves were all lined with detergent. TV had told us that he was looking for detergent so he could do our laundry. But, he said, the detergent he usually used was all gone. There were a lot of different kinds, but most of them were so different, they wouldn't work at all. It was like they weren't even detergent.

TV really seemed to wish he could find the old kind of detergent. We kids were all hoping that TV could do our laundry. My brother handed TV a few different types of detergent. But TV rejected them. One of the detergents looked like a drink pouch with a big, thick, orange cap. Most of the boxes of detergent were yellow and orange.

I was starting to think our laundry would never get done. But finally my brother found an old-fashioned looking box of detergent. The box was plain and yellow, and it had small writing, in a kind of old-fashioned font, all over each of its sides. This detergent was apparently the generic version of the kind that had run out.

My brother handed this box to TV. TV accepted it, possibly a little reluctantly. It was good enough. So he'd be able to do our laundry. But TV still seemed like he'd rather wait until he got the kind of detergent he actually liked.

Dream #4

I was living with my family. We had just gotten a maid.

I had just come back from something like work. I was kind of excited to see how well the maid had cleaned the house. I may also have had a little bit of an arrogant feeling that the maid would say my room had been the cleanest to begin with.

But my mom told me that the maid said I needed to clean my room better before she came to clean it. My mom said that the space under the bed had stuff under it, so she wasn't able to clean it.

I seemed to be going up a stairwell to my bedroom. I was holding onto the straps of a backpack I was wearing. I slowly entered the room and looked under my bed. The carpet was really dusty. A crumpled pair of khaki slacks lay on the carpet.

There was also a strange coffee cup which appeared to be either styrofoam or paper. But also seemed to be made of glass or ceramic. It had a white base, which faded up into a watercolory blue and green. There was a glass or ceramic flower with green petals and a pink center attached to its side.

I could see how this stuff could have blocked the maid from cleaning under my bed. I was a little ashamed for not having realized I'd left this stuff here.

Dream #5

The opening credits for some TV show were playing. The TV show was about some kind of normal American town, where all the characters were really normal and plain, except that they all seemed to have some sort of magic power or another. Each person had a different magic power.

The opening credits gave a screen shot to each of the main characters, giving the actors name, the character's name, and a short description of the character. Most of the characters have escaped my memory.

There seemed to be one blonde woman who looked like an average young mom. She wore a green cardigan sweater with a cherry-tree-branch design on it in black and white. She also wore skinny, black slacks. During her screen shot, she was doing something like shifting a pile of clothes from one place to another.

The final person also caught my attention. He was by far the gaudiest person in the town. He may have been gay. He worked at some department store, like the store in the British sitcom "Are You Being Served." He had feathery, platinum blonde hair and tan skin. He wore some kind of flowing white shirt and a black vest. He also seemed to be adorned with huge, cubic, shimmering crystals.

As well as being gay, he may have been the most "out" about having magic powers. His screen shot showed him in his department store, throwing his arms up in the air in some dramatic, magic gesture.

The show now began. There were two women and one man in a very stage-like setting. The space was supposed to be a beauty salon. But it was just a huge stage with a polished white floor. One the right side was some scenery like neon cut-outs of trees and vegetation. But this was supposed to be the real outdoors. The man stood out near this area, wearing a white terry cloth robe and sipping some kind of fruit drink.

The two women were near the center of the stage, by two chairs like dentist chairs. These were for beauty salon customers.

There was some kind of contest. Whoever won would get a free treatment at the beauty salon. One of the women was the worker at the beauty salon. The other woman went to the salon all the time.

The man began to mock the contest a little. He said, "Well, what happens if I win and I get to go to the beauty salon? What do you do to me?"

The man was suddenly in one of the chairs, naked. As if he were asking if this would happen, his body was suddenly slathered in a bunch of white, painty material. The man was wiggling back and forth, making throaty "Agh!" sounds, as if he were digusted, but also acting like he loved whatever it was he was going through. He asked, "Is this what you would do to me if I won the contest."

The customer woman now stood where the man had previously stood, by the neon paper vegetation. The man asked, "Is this what you do to her when she comes here?"

The customer woman was really pretty. She was blonde, heavily made up and dressed in the style of a 1990s business woman, with a red dress exposing a V of chest. But now she was naked. She walked to the chair to the man's right. She got in the chair upside down and facing in toward the chair, so that her really nice rear end just kind of stuck way up in the air.

I was hoping that the worker woman (red-haired, pale-skinned, with glasses, done up partly like a 1990s business woman and partly like Diane Keaton in the movie Manhattan) would start rubbing the naked customer woman down with whatever kind of white gunk the man seemed to be coated in. It felt like it would easily turn into some kind of erotic lesbian scene, which I would love.

Dream #6

I was in a morgue, which looked a bit more like some kind of crafts workshop, or theatre's backstage construction area. The place was full of tables and equipment, most of which seemed suited to a factory. There was a mortician somewhere for a little while. But after a while, he was gone.

I stood surrounded by a few work tables, like for cloth cutting or some other kind of craft. Across the way from me, though, a line of bodies were laid out on tables. The tables were all low, maybe knee-height. They all looked like work tables, and they were all separated from each other by kind of bulky pieces of equipment or machinery.

I saw four or five bodies in the line. Two bodies to my right were of men wearing soccer outfits, as if they had been soccer fans or soccer players. One of the men wore a green uniform. The other wore a yellow one. Both men were short, a little stout, and Latino. They had slightly cut up faces.

A woman's body was just off to my left. She was white, middle-aged, pale skinned, a little overweight. She had shoulder-length, red-brown-dyed hair. She lay on her back and seemed to be frozen in the position of taking a picture with her phone, which she held with both hands.

Something like narration ran through my head about how every person dies frozen in the position of whatever they were doing the instant they died. The woman now turned her head toward me and said, "Yes. That's true."

I was surprised that this dead woman had just spoken to me. But the narration said, "The dead can come alive to speak to the living when they have questions."

The woman was struggling to sit up, but she seemed more like she was sliding off the table. But, still, she was cheerfully confirming what the narrator had just said. She told me she could stay alive long enough to answer my questions.

I felt like it was really important to ask good questions and to focus on what was being told to me, because you don't get to talk to dead people every day.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was out walking on a sidewalk in a residential area. The road I was on went down a steep slope and up another steep slope, making a kind of U- or V-shape. I was near the bottom, heading up the "left" side of the U. The houses on the street were all nice, and the curbs seemed to be pretty well lined with tall, leafy trees. There were a lot of cars parked out along the curbs. There also seemed to be a decent amount of car traffic.

I may have stopped as I was going up the slope. I may have turned around. I may have felt some kind of despair, as if I didn't know where to go.

Suddenly a greyish Mercedes-like car passed me going down the slope. I suddenly had a note on a piece of paper in my hand. It said something like, "MY and LJ are coming for you. You are going to live with us now." (MY and LJ are two people I talk with on another website.)

I knew that the Mercedes had come from MY and LJ. I continued walking down the slope, hoping to get a glimpse of the car again. I heard a voice call my name from across the street. I looked over to see the grey Mercedes now parked. A few people were standing outside the car.

The person who had called my name waved at me. I recognized her as L, MY's mom. She was kind of tall, a tiny bit overweight, and had kind of pale skin and long, black hair. She wore a kind of loose-fitting tank top of a crepe-like material, colored with vivid blue, green, red, and possibly purple and white blotches against a black background. She also may have worn white pants.

I crossed the street to L. I knew that if I was going to live with MY, that L would be my mom, too. There was probably another woman, who I probably thought of as LJ's mom. LJ might have been there, too, possibly as an adult man or woman. There was also a tall, thin man with tough, tan skin, a big, grey beard, and kind of balding head of long, grey, wiry hair. The man wore a dirty, grey tank top and light grey slacks.

I was wondering when I would finally get to meet MY. L lifted up a car seat, which was just sitting by the car on the road. In the seat was an infant girl, dressed in a white onesie with pink trim and a pink bib. I held the car seat, with the baby inside it. I didn't know who this baby was. I knew there was another baby nearby, wearing the same outfit, except blue.

The car seat seemed to be sinking down in my arms, toward the ground, as if I were losing my ability to hold it. L may have also said she thought it was time for me to put down the baby, or I may have thought it would be a good time for me to put down the baby.

But just as I was sitting the baby down, she began sucking at one of my nipples, through my shirt. She wasn't trying to nurse from me (I don't know what she would have gotten out of a guy's nipple). She was doing something more like telling me she wanted me to keep holding her.

Dream #2

I was in "my apartment." I walked out of the apartment, into the hallway. There was a tall, young, white man in the hallway. He may have walked into my apartment. I don't know if he walked back out. I went back into my apartment, into the kitchen, which was just off from the front door.

Dream #3

I was in a cafe that kind of looked like a bar. It was big, as big as a restaurant, and it was made with lots of dark wood. I sat in a small, two-person booth at the front of the restaurant, right across an aisle from the front end of the service counter. In front of me, beyond my booth, was a big set of shelves stacked with free newspapers. Just beyond that was a huge front window-wall, as big as one that might be seen at the front of a grocery store.

The place may have felt and sounded busy. At one point, a customer seemed to be arguing with or yelling at the guy behind the service counter.

An Asian woman, maybe in her late 30s or early 40s sat down across from me at my booth, without asking, and even kind of forcibly and abruptly. I was a little offended, but I just decided to act like she hadn't done anything unusual.

I looked at her face and realized she was a famous author. (I may have thought of her as the famous -- male -- physicist Michio Kaku.) I was kind of surprised that someone so famous would want to sit with anybody. I figured she'd be so hounded by fans that she'd treasure any moment she could get alone.

The woman had slammed her coffee down at sat down. But now she jostled up, kind of impatiently, out of her seat. She grabbed some sugar from a stand near the newspaper shelves and came back. She irritably stirred her sugar, slopping her coffee out of the cup. It suddenly seemed like there was a mess of coffee stirrers, sugar wrappers, napkins, sugar, and coffee everywhere.

For a moment, things seemed to be silent. I thought perhaps I should talk to the author. Maybe she'd sat with me because she'd wanted to talk with me. And I apparently was a fan of her work. So I thought I'd have something to ask her. But I was afraid to talk to her, thinking she would just think of me as another big fan.

Now another customer was yelling at a guy, probably a different guy, behind the service counter. This time it definitely sounded like the customer was upset because the food he had ordered was in such bad condition that the man couldn't have it. All of this kind of food had been wrecked for the day. The customer was really upset. He left.

For some reason this all sounded really interesting to me. I stood up to ask the worker what was going on. The author, thinking she should follow my "good actions," as if I had been acting out of concern, quickly stood up and came with me to the counter.

I asked the worker what had happened. The worker was tall, white, kind of skinny, with shaggy, brown hair and pale eyes. He wore a dark baseball cap and probably a dark polo shirt with thin, green stripes.

The worker just responded, "Well, he just got annoyed. You know how ----- (another worker) always has that saying of his? 'If you gotcha, then mmm... gotcha!'"

I now saw a torn piece of notebook paper with this saying written sloppily on it in black ink. The quote was upside down to my view. I understood that the worker had repeated this quote often enough that he was really starting to tick all the customers off.

I now went up into some upstairs area in the cafe. I opened a door and found myself at the back of a performance space. It was just a kind of long, narrow featureless room. It was all dark, except at the front area, which served as a stage, and was lit with normal, incandescent stage lights. The audience didnt't seem to have any chairs. There were a lot of people, but they all seemed to be sitting on things like big cushions or wooden cubes.

The performers were a small rock band, led by a female singer. The song began. It was very distinctive. It had a really nice, sad sound and some interesting harmonies. The song made me look closer at the woman. She was kind of short and thin. She wore a bright turquoise sundress. She had lightly copper-tan skin and blonde-brown hair in a semi-beehive. She wore big, wide, wrap-around sunglasses.

I thought I'd recognized this singer. So I walked up toward the front of the audience, to a group of my friends. They were all young, Indian or southeast Asian guys and girls, with darkish skin. They were dressed in jeans and t-shirts. I asked them, "Isn't that Atilia?" (Atilia Haron, a Malaysian pop singer I like.)

One guy said, "No. This girl sings this song. It's called Pelita. It's for this movie. There's a flyer up front." (Pelita is a song by another Malaysian group called A.P.I.)

The concert seemed to be over. My friends and other people in the audience were leaving. I walked up to the front, kind of in a hurried, crouching fashion, as if the concert were still going on and I didn't want to get in people's view, as well as wanting to get back to my friends quickly.

There was a painted bench up front. There were two stacks of flyers on it. Both flyers were the size of regular pieces of paper. One flyer had a background like a deep blue, starry sky. The flyer was advertising something about the cosmos. The word "Cosmos" may have been in the title. The event was either a lecture or a film.

The second flyer advertised the band. It was white, with some kind of yellow framing fading in and out of the background. There was a kind of art-nouveau design of a bird like a phoenix, done in heavy, black lines, with bright colors in the spaces between the black lines.

The woman's name was at the top of the page. The first name was something like Nfemini or Nefmini. The second name was something like Salmani or Salyami. I got the impression that the woman was either Egyptian or Israeli.

Dream #4

I was in a cafe. I was sitting in a front area. But then I got a phone call. So I decided to walk to a back area to talk.

The back area seemed to be behind a partition like a backless bookshelf full of books. The back area was dark, lit as if from a single incandescent bulb on the floor somewhere. There were some tables in the room and a leather bench with tables along the right wall. There were a lot of people around.

I sat in the bench. I sat right next to some bookbag or backpack without thinking of it. I started talking with the person who'd called me. But just as I was starting to talk, a young man walked toward me. I realized that the backpack was the man's. I had inadvertently sat in his seat.

So I got up and sat at one of the tables in the room, continuing to talk with the person on my phone. I had the thought that it had been good, after all, that I'd moved to one of the tables. A phone conversation at the bench would distract too many people, including the young man.

Dream #5

I woke up in "my bedroom." I was on a tall bed, under a whole bunch of blankets. The room seemed to be nice but small and really cluttered. A lamp was on on a small dresser near the head of my bed. It made a bright, kind of yellowy light.

I rolled out of bed and walked through the cluttered room. To the left of the door was a random box, on top of which was a huge, plastic package of diapers. Diapers may have been spilling out of the container. There may actually have been diapers scattered all over the room.

I don't think I was "myself." I seemed to be a tall, kind of thin, but muscular, white man, kind of easygoing, walking and thinking with a bit of a swagger that I definitely don't have in waking life.

I went into the bathroom. I got out of the shower (apparently I had taken a shower). I was drying off. I realized I needed to go to the bathroom. I thought, for some reason, that maybe I should just put on a diaper and pee in that, instead. That thought really turned me on, for some reason. But I didn't really think it was a good idea to just go walking around in a diaper.

Suddenly I was either putting a diaper on or taking it off. It seemed completely shredded, for some reason, and there seemed to be all kind of layers to the diaper. One layer seemed like thin, clear plastic-wrap. Another layer was a kind of porous material, like the tops of tennis shoes.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was walking along either a sidewalk or a concrete walkway on a bridge at night. The night was really clear, and the sky was blue with moonlight.

A group of girls walked behind me. I don't think I ever saw them clearly. But I had the impression they were all blonde and pretty. I feel like they might have been dressed up in business clothes. But they also might have been in casual jeans, shirts, and jackets.

The girls were all talking about a specific person's love life. They seemed to be trying to get a guy and a girl to hook up with each other. But they were talking about one of the person having too many issues and messing things up. I don't really know if they were talking about the guy or the girl.

The sidewalk curved around somehow and went along the side of some concrete wall. It ramped up, as if leading up to a bridge. There was now a lot of snow on the ground, though the sky was still clear.

Some of the women passed me. They still seemed to be talking about the match they were trying to make. As the girls passed me, I wondered if they hadn't stayed behind me all that time because they'd wanted me to talk to them.

There was still one girl behind me. She said, "You know why I love these new shoes for the snow? Because then I can walk around in the snow, and it's not difficult at all!" I may have thought it was a little nerdy for the girl to brag about her new snow shoes while everybody else was talking about this matchmaking attempt.

The girl went off the left side of the concrete path, onto a bank of snow. She passed me while walking through the bank of snow. She then walked back toward the path, maybe two or three meters in front of me now. But as she approached the path, she tripped. She fell down right in front of me.

Dream #2

I was walking down a kind of lonely sidewalk on a sunny day. I was in a kind of old-looking part of a big town, with cobblestone streets and wide, brick buildings.

There was a really old, Asian man behind me, about twenty meters away. For some reason I had turned around to look at him. A young, black man, not really tall, but kind of broad and muscly, came up to the Asian man. The black man had a big, thick beard that only went around his jaw line. The man wore a big set of headphones and wore a red t-shirt.

The black man said, "Assalamu alaikum" to the Asian man and then quietly started asking the man questions and pointing toward me, as if the questions were about me. But as soon as the black man saw that I had seen him asking questions about me, he stopped talking. He then quickly thanked the Asian man and walked away.

I felt like if the black man had been asking questions about me, he had been following me. So I was going to find out what was going on. I saw the man go into some corner-set brick building that looked like a restaurant. So I headed toward that restaurant.

It was only a few seconds from the time the man went into the restaurant to the time I actually approached the door. But the man was already walking out of the restaurant -- except this time, he didn't have the huge beard around his jawline. He looked at me and pretended not to know me. He rushed past me and crossed a street, toward a block with a huge, grass fille vacant lot.

I followed the man across the street, calling out to him, "Yep! Yep!" As he hurried away, as if to let him know I knew he had been following me all along.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

Two criminals had escaped from prison. There was a view of only their legs as they got into the back of a silver-grey car.

One of the criminals, the leader of the two, seemed to be an amputee. His hands and feet, and possibly even most of his legs, had been cut off. They were bandaged up with clean bandages. The man may also have been really short. He also wore a nice, grey suit. The other criminal was tall and muscular. He may have been dressed in leather pants and a tank top. He may have had long hair and a beard.

Now two cops were chasing after the escaped criminals. They had followed the criminals to some abandoned building. The criminals had gone past some chain-link fence and up a stairwell. All around the stairwell was dark. The stairwell was lit with some kind of intense, orange-yellow light.

The cops were now trying to push past the chain-link fence. But they were also proceeding cautiously. They weren't sure whether the criminals were waiting up on the steps to shoot down at the cops.

One of the two cops got past the chain-link fence. The cop was Latino, a bit heavy-set, though not really overweight. He wore a white tank top and black glasses. His hair was combed back in a wavy style. He may have had a goatee. The cop had his gun drawn. Instead of walking up the steps, he walked under them.

The second criminal was now seen hiding in the shadows. It was like I was seeing from the shadows, too, at a distance from both the cop and the criminal. The criminal drew his gun, pulled it high in the air, then slowly leveled it at the cop. The criminal was about to shoot, but the cop saw him and shot first.

The cop shot the second criminal a few times. But he was then surprised when another gun shot him in the chest, on his far right side. The cop got shot a number of times. He reeled back against the chain-link fence, which now had a wide hole in it.

As the first cop tumbled backward out of the stairwell, the second cop charged in. The second cop looked a lot more clean-cut than the first cop. He wore a dark suit, maybe dark blue. He had coppery skin, short hair, pale eyes, and a square jaw. Right away he tackled the person who had shot the first cop.

Behind the fence, the first cop stood, bleeding from his wounds. One or more officers may now have appeared behind the fence to assist the bleeding cop. It seemed like the cop had been mortally wounded. But he kept calling out, in a panicked way, "I'm not gonna die! I'm not gonna die!"

The second cop had the first criminal wrestled to the ground. Apparently the first criminal had shot the first cop (how? He didn't have any arms!). The second cop was slamming the first criminal against the ground and even, somehow, had his gun drawn on the criminal. The cop was yelling and the criminal something like, "You killed my friend! Now I'm gonna make you pay! I'm gonna kill you!"

The criminal, who was bald and had a kind of thin, sharp, tan face laughed and said, "No you aren't! Every cop tells me they're gonna do that. But nobody ever can. I never get really punished!"

The criminal, now captured, was in some room like a medical laboratory. He was being held down in some weird position, probably against a bed, by somebody like the chief of police. He was surrounded by medical people and police officers, all of whom seemed to be jostling the criminal, as if to make him feel bad about what he'd done. But the criminal just kept laughing.

Finally a doctor grabbed the criminal's head. He sliced his scalp open from front to back, along the center. He did it in such a way as to hurt the criminal, but the criminal just kept laughing, as if he didn't even care. The criminal's scalp was now pulle away from his skin. The doctor now sawed into the criminal's skull, splitting it in the same way as he had cut the scalp. But the criminal was still laughing.

The doctor then hacked open the criminal's brain, right along the center. The brain looked dry, bloodless, like just some solid, white, kind of fatty mass. The doctor reached either his hands or some tweezers down toward the base of the split section of the brain.
From the right side, very near the cleft, the doctor pulled up a yellowy, plasticky-looking section of brain, almost rectangular, about 2cm tall and .75cm wide. The doctor, and maybe other people, seemed to think that this was just "yet another" piece of brain that they'd had to pull out of this criminal's head.

Dream #2

I was sitting in a small apartment. I may have been sitting on a couch, but I may also have been sitting on a coffee table. It was daytime, and the room was lit with greyish-green light coming in through the curtained windows. The room seemed to be full of boxes.

I had ordered something, and I had been waiting for it for just a little bit longer than I'd wanted to wait. But just as I was thinking of calling the store I'd ordered from and asking about my delivery, a delivery man rushed into my house. He kind of scared me. I did't expect anybody to just rush into my place.

The man was tall and white, kind of strong-looking, very pale, with pale, blue eyes. He seemed to have a shaved head, but he wore a baseball cap, maybe red. He wore dark clothes, almost like an Adidas track suit. He carried a white plastic bag in his hands. It held my stuff for delivery. It looked like the stuff inside was white styrofoam, like for take-out meals.

I now had the bag. I looked inside. I'd apparently ordered two or three Asian DVDs of some sort. One may have had a cartoon panda on the front. There was some other merchandise in the bag that I don't remember.

The man told me, "The movies are due back in two days. For the rest, you'll be charged..."

The man continued talking. But I didn't quite hear him. I'd been surprised. The DVDs were due back? I thought I'd bought them. But now it made sense to me. I'd rented the DVDs, or checked them out, like from a library.

The man seemed to be a little eager to leave. As he had been talking, he had slowly come to recognize how full of boxes my place was. Something about this seemed to freak him out. He no longer wanted to be here. He finished up his speech really fast, but almost automatically, as if he didn't want to betray how freaked out he was.

I had gathered from what the man had said that I owed the company something like $22. I pulled out my wallet. I had something like $21. I told the man I could give him $21 now and pay the company the rest when I returned the movies. I knew this was more than I had to pay right now, since I didn't have to pay for any of the movies until I returned them. So, somehow, that meant I only had to pay $20 right now.

But, even as I'd offered the man the money, he was already back out the door and into the hallway. He called back to me, as I walked up to the door, "No, don't worry about it. You'll just be charged for it all on credit."

I thought that was both convenient and a little bit of a pain. I didn't really want to have stuff charged to my card.

There was another white kid in the hallway. He wore a thick, yellow sweater with a black logo on it and big, baggy, green pants. He had black hair which swept down over his eyes. The boy had seen how freaked out the first man had been by my place. So he now looked inside. He seemed to be interested in something.

I was a little freaked out by the kid's gaze, so I turned around and walked back into my place, trying to look, to the kid, like I hadn't seen him looking into my apartment. I looked at all my boxes. I wondered if the kid had thought there was something here he'd like to steal.

I walked farther back into my apartment, into my bedroom. This room was full of boxes, too. I thought, No wonder people get weirded out by my place. It's full of boxes. It looks like I've never moved in. But I never feel comfortable anywhere. If I could finally feel comfortable somewhere, I'd unpack my boxes. Then it would look like I actually live here.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was on a somewhat crowded subway platform. I got onto a train, possibly without being quite sure that the train was the one I needed.

The train went for a little way, then I realized that it red the wrong train. A few other people realized the train was the wrong one. I thought we'd all have to go back the way we'd come and get on the right train from the stop we'd left grim.

But now a few black women and I were all out, walking on the tracks of an elevated, above-ground portion of the train's route. It was dark night, and we could barely see anything. One of the women may have had a flashlight with her.

Apparently we were looking for the correct train. We'd just gotten off our previous train through something like an auxiliary door while the train had been stopped. Apparently, once we found the correct train, it would somehow stop again, and we'd get on through another auxiliary door.

But as we walked along the tracks, I got more and more afraid. It was dark, and you couldn't see anything outside of the beam of the weak flashlight. Plus, the floor of the elevated platform seemed to be made out of really cheap, brittle plastic. As we progressed, it felt like the plastic was breaking more and more under our steps. These elevated tracks were also really high above ground. So I felt like I could break through the plastic floor and fall to my death at any moment.

I wondered how much more of this I could take. I felt bad, because the women I was with didn't seem to be afraid at all. But I was hoping I could get away from them and find a more sensible way of catching a train.

I was now back on a subway platform. The platform was for one of the elevated stops. It felt pretty lonely. I had the feeling that I was here because I'd willed myself to be out of the situation of walking on the tracks. So I was kind of disappointed in myself. I'd obviously let my fear get to me so that I'd ended up in a different situation. I didn't even know if this train was the one I was looking for, anyway.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in some run-down part of some big town. I was on a block with thin apartment buildings. The outsides of the buildings were grey, like they were either of unpainted cinder block or had their paint chipped off or worn off. It was daytime, and the light seemed kind of yellowy-pale and humid.

I was with a group of people. We all seemed to be in a line, and we were all being directed into one of the apartment complexes. I understood that we had all been sought out by some group and brought here.

I was now with the group that was seeking us out. They were seeking out Russians. But I wasn't a Russian. I had a bad feeling that I was simply part of their operation, kind of disguised as one of the people being sought, but that I was actually helping catch the people and get them confined in this one apartment building.

I was now with a line of Russian men, heading into this apartment building. One of the men in front of me was blonde, with a short haircut and pale skin. We got inside. The door opened directly to a dark, narrow, winding stairwell.

There was some kind of military guy just inside. He looked to be maybe in his 40s, a bit overweight, with a pudgy face, sweaty, and stubble-covered. He wore some kind of camouflage trenchcoat and one of those thick, round hats with the fur lining and earflaps.

I asked the man what I was doing here, what the Russians were here for, and if I really needed to be a part of this. The man raised a finger to his lips and said, "Sh... Just wait here until they're all upstairs. Act like you're going upstairs, too. Then, once they're all upstairs, just leave through the front door. We want to make sure we have them all here for the trial. As long as they think you're going, they'll go, too."

I now felt really terrible -- even though I definitely planned to leave this place as soon as I could. But it was like all the Russians had to think I was going with them, or else they wouldn't go. So I had to trick them into thinking I was going, too. But I wasn't. Why was I helping these military people capture these people?

I didn't quite feel like I could leave. Now that I knew there was going to be a trial, I wanted to see what it was going to be about. So I'd stay for that.

The trial took place in a room on the first floor, just off from the stairwell. The room was short, but kind of wide. It was barren, with dirty, concrete floors and plain, white walls. The light was incandescent, but it also felt cold and barren. There was a group of officials seated at a long folding table to my left. On the other side of the room was a vague group of people. Some were people being judged. Some were attorneys.

Someone had told me, again, that I could come in and see what the trial was all about. They told me that I could actually even help them out with the trial. I didn't want to help out with the trial, but I suddenly found myself doing so.

I stood out on the floor, giving some kind of random speech. I was trying to make myself look like I was defending the Russians. But what I was really doing was making them feel more comfortable, so they'd give up as much information as possible.

Dream #2

There was a man in some part of the world like Vietnam. I'm not sure what the time period was. It seemed like nowadays, or maybe even a little bit into the future. The man had done some spy-like thing, probably against America. He had been discovered. But he was already beginning to make a quick getaway.

The man looked like a stereotypical "Sgt. Rock" type of soldier. He wore a camouflage uniform, a rounded helmet with something like netting over it, and he had a muscular face and stubble. He may even have been smoking a cigarette.

The man was now getting into something like a spaceship. It was right next to some kind of hut on stilts. The spaceship looked like an old, 1950s style rocket, with the elliptical body and tailfins and everything. But it was made of some really silvery material.

The man had climbed into some kind of side door or hatch high up on the ship, possibly via some high window, or even the roof, of the hut. There were now a lot of rushing and booming sounds.

The space shuttle seemed to be lifting off. But now an Asian-looking woman, who was actually a spy for the American side, was calling out the window of the hut for the man. She had been assigned to get him back so that the Americans could put him on trial for whatever his spy activity had been. So she was pretending that she loved him and she didn't want him to go.

At this point I may have seen from the man's point of view. The woman seemed huge, like she was stretching all the way up into the air to pull me down. Her cries also seemed really terrifying somehow, like supernatural moans. For some reason, either I or the soldier decided to stay, since the woman loved either me or the soldier.

Dream #3

There were a group of people trying to fight some kind of alien menace. I'm not really sure what it was. The group was maybe a couple of guys and a girl.

One of the guys was separated from the rest of the group. He ended up finding the body of a woman who was thought to be in on the aliens' plans. But he didn't know that his discovery of the woman's body was planned.

The woman was actually an alien. The aliens were actually like robots. But the robots were made out of this purple mold, which was something like a living machine that could shape itself in various ways.

The man had done something to the woman, possibly cutting her open with a scalpel for some reason. A piece of the purple mold squirted out of the woman's body and onto the man's left eye.

The man didn't pay it any attention: it wasn't much. But the mold worked its way behind the man's eye and into his brain. I knew this meant that the mold would proliferate in the man's brain and body, eventually turning him into a robot.

Later the rest of the man's group would (or did?) find the man. They would (or did) think, wrongly, that the man was fine, when he actually was an alien robot, ready to spread the mold into other human bodies.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I had quit my job. But now I had come back. I was in "my office," which was mostly grey, with dim, greyish fluorescent light. My seat was a cubicle off to the right from a long hallway.

I was coming in for the day at the same time as another man. The man had dark, red-brown skin. He had frizzy, red-black hair pulled back in a ponytail. He wore a dark blue dress shirt and dakr grey slacks. The man and I spoke casually for a moment. The man had a gentle, slightly high-pitched voice, with a flattish, American accent. He seemed really nice.

The man went into the office across from my cubicle. I figured that he was going to be my boss. I was trying to think of all the ways I could help him. After all, I knew all about this office, and apparently, today was only the man's first day.

I didn't sit in my seat. I also didn't turn my computer on. I'm pretty sure I just stood up, shuffling through papers, trying to figure out things like what kind of data I needed to get for the man.

The man and I were then heading down the hallway beyond my cubicle. This hallway was featureless and empty. We ended up in the office of the head of my department, DR. DR sat at his desk, which was kind of cluttered. DR had already given the man instructions. The man had left.

I stood beside DR and just to his left, as if I were going to look at something on his computer screen. DR turned a little bit and then relaxedly turned his head a bit more so he could see me. His eyes looked kind of sleepy, and it looked more like he expected me to ask him something, rather than that he had a plan for me.

I asked DR, "Is there a cover list you'd like me to start out with?" This, I assume, meant a list of companies for which DR would like me to gather data. Usually my boss would be the one to discuss this kind of list with DR. I'd be the one to pull the data.

But DR said that he did have a list for me. He pulled out a piece of paper that looked very much like an electronic Excel spreadsheet with marker or thick pencil scrawlings in the cells. He told me to get started on this list.

I was ready to get started on the names, and I was even trying to plan out how to put together some financial models for the companies on the list. But I was also surprised. I hadn't quite known I would be asking for a list. And I didn't know DR would just give me one.

I knew this meant that I had been "promoted" to the position my boss had. That would mean I'd be on an equal level with the man I'd walked into the office with this morning.

I was now back at my cubicle for a brief moment. I was considering what kind of work I needed to get started on.

But then I was out walking on a sidewalk, going up a steep hill in a residential area. It was a clear sunny day, and I was walking under the shade of trees with thick canopies. I had my phone to my ear and I was listening to a conversation between my boss and our HR person, LS.

LS was talking about what a good job I was doing in my new position, and what a good fit I was for the job. My boss got mad and he yelled, "Of course he is! I've been telling you people that all this time! But nobody ever listened to me!"

Dream #2

I was sitting at church, probably near the front. The place was so crowded that all I could see were people. Everybody seemed older, and everybody was dressed up. A shaft of bright, white light from a high-up window lit the area around me.

I turned my head to the right and looked down. In an aisle (that had only been temporarily formed?) a little girl came walking toward me, possibly coming away from an older woman. The little girl had frizzy, curly, light brown hair. The may have worn a tank-top like smock and slacks.

The little girl seemed to want to sit with me, so I lifted her up and sat her onto my lap. I sat forward, apparently to listen to the rest of the sermon. But I was mostly thinking of how happy I was to have the little girl sitting on my lap.

Dream #3

I was walking on a sidewalk somewhere. A black and white ferret ran up from behind me, passing me on my left side. It ran up to my mom.

I said something to my mom like, "Wow, I see what you mean, after all! Ferrets are really nice!"

Dream #4

I was out in some kind of barren landscape, less like a desert, more like a natural area that had just been plowed over for a construction project. I stood just before some short hill or mound of brown soil, possibly with clumps of grass or vegetation growing on it. It was a sunny and pale day.

I was planning to go out on some kind of trip. I had two books with me, but I could only take one. Both books were paperbacks. One books was a regular sci-fi book, possibly from an older author, like Arthur C. Clarke or Isaac Asimov.

The other was called "The Joy of Sex." But it wasn't The Joy of Sex. Instead, it was some kind of semi-sci-fi novel mixed with porn. But the porn segments were supposed to be very well-described, like for educational purposes, to teach people how to have good sex. The book itself was a Penguin Classics paperback, and on its cover it had that French painting of the two girls in bed, with the one girl between the other's legs.

I felt a little grossed out at the thought of reading all the sex descriptions in the book, so I decided to take the regular sci-fi book with me on my trip. After that, I felt a little guilty. Hadn't I always felt like I wasn't that great at sex? Didn't I always feel like I should learn how to be better. The "Joy of Sex" novel could have taught me how to be good. But I had decided not to take it.

Dream #5

I was in some dark bathroom, peeing. I just kept peeing and peeing. Eventually I started peeing all over the toilet seat and floor. Apparently this was some public bathroom. I started to pity the guy who'd have to use the toilet after me. I was really messing it up! But I had no intention of cleaning it.

Dream #6

A young man, who looked really familiar to me as some kind of movie or TV star, sat before the big desk of some TV executive. The executive sat behind his desk. The office was pretty big, very nice, and dimly lit.

The young man had just auditioned for the role of Joey in the TV show Friends. But he didn't make it. The executive, who really liked the guy, had to break the news to the guy. This whole scene in the executive's office appeared as if it had been filmed, and filmed for an episode of Friends, like a kind of "History of Friends" episode.

I knew that it wouldn't matter that the guy didn't get to play the role of Joey. The guy looked very familiar to me (even though I can't place him now -- he looked like a mix between Joey and Ross, with stubble), and I knew that he would end up as a cast member in another successful TV show or movie.

The young man now stood up at the left side of the executive's desk. The executive stood before the young man. He was gradually, obliquely telling the young man how he hadn't made the cut.

Finally, in some weird display of sympathy, and to show the young man that the executive liked him, the executive lifted up his head and smiled. Apparently the executive had been wearing a baseball cap the whole time, because his face was revealed from under the bill. The man was apparently famous, and this strange reveal was meant more for the sake of the filming.

The executive was tall, kind of thin, balding, and maybe in his late 40s or early 50s. He reminded me of a famous TV person, but I couldn't place him. In another way, he kind of reminded me of Ron Howard.

The youn man was now going to a restaurant to meet his friends. There were two men who sat waiting at a small, circular table for the young man. Both the men were older than the young man. They were tall, skinny, and they had kind of frizzy, blonde hair, like Art Garfunkel.

Before the young man came into the restaurant, the two men had actually been holding hands over the table, like they were lovers. But when they saw the young man come into the restaurant, they quickly let go of each other, as if to hide the fact of their being lovers from the young man.

The young man hugged the two men and then sat down at the table. He was wearing a pale, pink shirt and a brown, cowboy-style vest. He threw his hands up in the air and said, "Well, I didn't make it! I was close, but I didn't make it!"

The young man had apparently had two parts to his audition. The first part had just been him playing the role of Joey. He had done better at that part than everybody except the guy who had actually gotten the role. But the second part was some kind of test, maybe even a written test. The young man was now explaining to the two men that the executive had explained to him that he had only gotten a 70 on that test.

The young man said something like, "A 70! Can you believe it? A 70! That's all I got!"

Dream #7

No vision. Just words. Something like: "Aeon -- aeon in the mind. The mind in man."

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in an airport with my mom and a man, probably my mom's old boyfriend, JT. The airport was large, with huge, tall corridors, and it seemed pretty empty. We were trying to get my mom to one flight and me to another flight. J and possibly my mom (or I?) were dragging along one of those pull-type suitcases on wheels.

We went through one corridor with a tall, wide window wall. Off to the left, at the far end of that corridor, was a smaller hallway that was apparently an actual terminal. We then went through another large area that somehow reminded me of a mall, even though I can't remember any stores being there.

We then got to an area that looked like a back area somehow. It was huge, multi-leveled, with an escalator going down to a lower level, and it had polished, beige, marble walls. I felt like we had to be close to where my mom's flight was taking off. It seemed like a relief to me. I knew that once I had gotten my mom onto her flight, I could get onto mine.

But now my mom left me and J. She walked to the far end of the area and up to something that looked like a customer service or returns counter in a department store. She told us to wait a second, that she had to take care of something.

I knew that my mom was going to take forever doing what she was doing. So I just left her and J. I ran away from them, looking over my shoulder and waving as I told them that I wished I could wait for them, but that my flight was leaving.

I ran through the area with the glass wall and the smaller hallway. I had a feeling my specific gate was far away from here. I wasn't actually quite sure where it was. I looked at the clock on my phone. It gave some time around 4 PM. I thought that was fine. I didn't need to catch my flight until 4:30.

But then I thought it over. I was really far away from my gate, I didn't know where my gate was, and I was already within half an hour of my departure time. That's when you start getting cut out of your flight! I looked at my watch twice more. First it said 4:08, then it said 4:13. I realized that I was in trouble, even if I found my gate right now.

I took my phone down from my face. I was now actually running outside. The airport was like a mall, or more like an agglomeration of big-box stores. There were different airlines indicated outside of different buildings. Some airlines had their own buildings.

I was up on some kind of asphalt slope, looking down to the buildings. I ran around the corner of the airport and then for a certain distance more. I then looked at the building closest to me. It had signs for a number of different airlines. But I was looking for Continental.

I knew that if I had gotten to this building, I had gone way past the building with Continental in it. I even looked down at a ticket or card I held, which was red and said "Continental Airlines" on it in blue lettering.

I turned around and began running again. I was pretty sure that there was absolutely no chance that I could catch this flight. But I figured that I might as well keep trying. I looked up at the sky, which was a kind of gentle blue, tinged with a pale, golden yellow. I may have seen a bird or an airplane flying through the sky.