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    maboroshi

    mirror, people at door, outside with psychiatrist

    by , 08-20-2011 at 02:16 PM (630 Views)
    Good morning, everybody.

    Dream #1

    I was in "my apartment," in my bathroom, looking at my face in the mirror. The bathroom was dark, with light coming in only from another room. I was disappointed with my appearance. I felt like I looked really ugly.

    There was suddenly a knock on my front door. I didn't know anybody who'd be knocking on my door at this time, so I was afraid to open the door. I went to look through the peephole to see who was there -- I was even afraid to do that.

    The person at the door was a tall, muscular black man wearing a black tank top, khaki shorts, and a baseball cap tilted off to the side of his head. He was bouncing around a lot. He looked annoyed or angry. I didn't open the door or acknowledge the man. I just walked away from the door and back to the bathroom.

    There was another knock at the door. This time I stood frozen in the doorway of my bathroom, afraid to even go to the door. I looked from the bathroom to the door.

    My apartment was really big. It was like the bathroom was at the front of a short hallway. Between the hallway and the front door was a living room. But the living room was more like two huge rooms. Both the rooms were plainly visible, but dark. In the center was a kind of columned space that was lit with incandescent light. There was nice, kind of old-style furniture everywhere.

    I somehow saw through the door, which now had a window of greenish and pinkish stained glass in a diamond-grid pattern on it. At the door were two old, white men, kind of overweight, with white hair. It was now like part of the stained glass on my door had been broken. The men could see into my house. But I didn't know if they could see me.

    There was a really nice, big, comfortable armchair near the hallway. A very pretty, blonde, little girl in a really nice, fancy dress, sat in the chair. She made some kind of remark about the people at the door. The remark was made with a cheerful tone, but it was kind of dark. It made me feel like the two white men at my door were probably here only to cause trouble for me, but that I should probably open the door to them anyway.

    I was about to go open the door for the men. But they now saw me through the smashed-out pieces in the stained glass on my door. The men said something about how they had only been here to help me. They were probably going to install some kind of device in my house. But if I didn't want to open the door for them, they weren't going to waste their time.

    The two men left my door. I ran after them, hoping to get them so they could do whatever good thing they were going to do for me. I must have gotten down to the ground floor of my apartment building. In an area that may have been a little small and cramped, possibly busy with some kind of housework, I met a woman, another resident.

    The woman said, "Oh, those guys are all holding a big meeting for all of us downstairs later on. They gave everybody that speech. They figured it was a good way to make everybody feel guilty. So that way everybody would want the thing the men want to put in the house. So now, to find out what it is, we all have to go to this meeting."

    I was now outside, in a neighborhood that looked a lot like my neighborhood in waking life. It was late afternoon or early morning. The sky was deep, vivid blue, but there were also bright, red-pink clouds in the sky. I remarked to myself that I'd never seen clouds with such a strong, red tint.

    Somehow my psychiatrist met me a couple of blocks down from my apartment. I was walking back to my apartment. So my psychiatrist walked with me. We passed a small family that was taking up the entire sidewalk. We had to maneuver past them. I squeezed along a chain-link fence along the sidewalk.

    One of the kids of the family may have been on a tricycle. Another of the kids was a little, Latina girl with dark skin and long, black hair. She was maybe ten or eleven years old. She wore a bikini with a black and white design of tighly interlocking patterns, like Native American pottery paintings. She also may have had red scrunchees holding her hair back in either a ponytail or two pigtails.

    I had been very interested in the Native American design on the girl's bikini. I had never seen that before. But the girl had been kind of crouched down near the bicycle. And when she stood up, something about the sight of her rear end as it went from a crouching to a standing position really turned me on. So I looked away, ashamed of being turned on by a little girl, especially in front of my psychiatrist.

    We crossed the street. I was looking down to the sidewalk and up to the strikingly red-pink clouds as my psychiatrist spoke with me. My psychiatrist told me that she had some meeting set up with me and another psychiatrist, possibly a man. She told me that soon I'd be able to go to "special sessions" with this second psychiatrist.

    My psychiatrist told me that she'd tell me more once we got inside. Apparently my apartment complex actually held her counseling office instead of my apartment.

    I asked my psychiatrist if I would still be doing regular sessions with her, since the sessions with the guy would only be "special sessions." I mentioned some previous psychiatrist I'd had before, without being able to remember her name, as if I had seen her for "special sessions" while still seeing my psychiatrist for "regular sessions." But my psychiatrist didn't answer me.

    My dream now took on a very scratchy, rushing feeling, like I'd usually have when I was going into or coming out of a lucid dream. I think this may have been partly because I had gotten really frustrated trying to remember the name of my previous psychiatrist.

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