non-lucid

Good morning, everybody. I remembered three dreams from last night. But I lost one between waking up and starting this entry.

The "new bacteria" dream is influenced by the NASA announcement about that newly discovered Mono Lake microbe that survives on arsenic instead of phosphorous. I also don't know why I thought in my dreams that bacteria aren't alive. I'm pretty sure it's viruses that are technically not alive or only half-alive.

Dream #1

I was at "my office," which was like the living room of a small house or cabin that might have been located in the woods. There were a few big windows on the walls, letting in plenty of light, possibly through thin, gauzy curtains. The day was probably cold and light grey.

My desk was near the center of the room. I was standing back from it a little bit at first. The desk was cluttered with all kinds of papers and things that looked like mechanisms for gathering data for ecological surveys.

The front door opened and either "my boss" or "a colleague of mine" walked in. He may have been a white man, strong-looking, with a big stomach and a huge beard. He may have been wearing some kind of plaid shirt, suspenders, and a broad-brimmed hat.

I had the understanding that I was probably going to be fired because I was doing a terrible job. I sat down at the desk and grabbed my lunch. I probably shouldn't have been eating at this time, but I decided to eat right now, and to eat like a pig, in defiance of whoever was going to fire me.

My lunch may not have looked much like food. It may have looked like machine parts, or, rather, just one small but chunky, metallic machine part. It was in a clear, Tupperware container about 35cm long, way too big for whatever the small lunch was. I may have been trying to eat the machine part with chopsticks.

I decided that if I was going to get fired for being lazy, I might as well be even lazier while I was waiting to get fired. I saw some kind of "mechanism" that looked like the metal-wound cord for payphone receivers. It may have been partly buried under a pile of papers.

I probably started whining and complaining about something that would prove I wasn't thinking about doing my job at all. I might have complained about some porn website that I couldn't get onto or some rock song that I wasn't able to turn on really loud. (But, now that I think about it, I may not even have had a computer at my desk.)

Dream #2

A view of various "bacteria." It was like seeing a lot of purplish, purple-blue, and pinkish, spidery or web-like shapes stuck in clear cubes like novelty plastic ice cubes.

The "cubes" were being moved before my eyes as if they were being displayed as part of a presentation. But they would often overlap, as if they were just random cubes of ice jangling about with each other in a glass of water.

I heard a voice talk about the bacteria and how they were a new kind of bacteria. They weren't really alive, or they were only half alive. But they had the ability to reproduce.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was at "my office," which was nothing like an offce. I stood on the top of a gigantic (30m tall?) Kitchen counter, looking down over a gathering of flowers that were almost as tall as the kitchen counter. The blossoms were about 5m across and looked like a mix between lotuses and zinnias. They were a cream-white color with yellowy centers.

From down on the floor, from which the flowers grew, I could hear my company's CEO and someone else talking. They had been planning a party. (There may have been an earlier part to this dream in which I had been helping with the party planning.) They now may have made some reference to me, as if I were not present.

I thought I would get their attention. I thought I could hop from flower to flower to get closer to them. But I figured that wasn't a great idea. The flowers were probably weak. They might not support my weight.

At some point, it may have seemed like the flowers were floating in a body of water, as if this gigantic kitchen had been flooded up to the level of the countertop.

Something had been settled regarding my role in the party, and I was now walking along the counter-top, trying to get to wherever I needed to get to take care of my task. The kitchen floor seemed to get closer and closer, and things took on more and more of a regular proportion.

At some point my CEO walked past me, coming from the opposite direction. He may have been walking on the countertop, but I think he actually was down on the kitchen floor, which was now only 3m or so below the counter-top. I said hi to him. He said hi and addressed me by my name. I was pleasantly surprised that he knew my name.

I walked past some tall cardboard boxes that were on the counter-top. At the end of the counter-top was something that looked like a way-oversized wheelchair-ramp leading down to an oversized lobby that looked like the lobby to a small office building in a suburban office park.

I somehow found myself on another ledge, like an oversized counter-top, looking down (about 5m) to an oversized area that had been set up "to look like" a 1950s-style diner (even though I don't think now that the place actually looked like a 1950s-style diner).

The place had clean wood floors, white walls, and a few round tables. Over the huge front door was a huge "1950s-style" sign which looked like a mix between a clock and a spoon. The name of the restaurant was given, with a (not very convincing) "1950s-style" slogan underneath it.

I'd had to turn around to see the sign. I turned back around and was now in a smallish theatre, which was still, somehow, the "1950s diner." I stood (on the floor!) at the top and back of the theatre.

The theatre was full of young people, mostly boys. The theatre's seats were all set up at a couple of different angles. The seating was very steep, like stadium seating. The chairs were red. Down at the bottom was a small stage.

I understood that an anime festival was about to take place here. Some presenter (possibly a shortish, youngish-looking Asian woman in a grey t-shirt, pale blue jeans, and glasses) was about to begin speaking.

I found a couple of my friends: a man I don't recognize and my female friend T. They were sitting at the back of the theatre, on red-leather and chrome stools like counter-stools in a 1950s diner.

I went over to my friends. I lay down across a couple of the stools, stomach-down. I wondered if these seats were very good. After all, this place was packed. Once the presentation started, would we have a bunch of people constantly crowding in front of us?

My stool-tops now seemed to come directly out of the floor now, instead of being atop chrome poles. T, wearing a long skirt, lifted up her skirt to straddle me and sit on my back.

I kind of got mad that T had lifted up her skirt. I knew that she'd lift it up enough so that anybody looking would easily see the crotch of her panties. There had already been some creeps looking in our direction. Now that T had basically flashed everybody, these guys would probably really want to cause trouble for me.

At some point I may have had to tell T to get off me. The way the stool-tops were set and the way T sat on me were putting a lot of pressure on my spine. I figured I'd just roll down onto the floor and let T sit on me that way.

After this, T and I were standing by some doorway, just outside the theatre, looking into the dark theatre through a half-opened door. We stood in a white walled hallway.

We were talking to a couple of older, rich-looking, white people, probably a man and a woman. The man and woman were famous and possibly had had something to do with the anime and manga industry. We may have been making plans to collaborate on something.

Good morning, everybody. I remember a fragment of a dream from last night. I know there was a lot more. I also know I had a kind of long dream later in the night. But my image memory has been kind of off lately, so I'm not retaining dreams as well as I'd like to.

Dream #1

I stood before a "beetle" that had a long horn, like the horn of a rhinoceros beetle (?) and a stinging tail like a scorpion's tail.

The beetle stood on something like a platform or table that maybe reached just above my navel in height. The table may have been lit from a small track-lighting beam in the ceiling, like in a museum. The rest of the room was dim.

The beetle was maybe about 10 or so cm tall and 30cm long, with its tail coiled up, not straightened out. In addition to the beetle having a scorpion's tail, something about the beetle's underside and leg positioning remind me of a horseshoe crab.

The beetle had a weird, green color, like an old, metallic Chinese vessel, except darker, almost pine green. The beetle itself may have been metallic.

The beetle was protecting an egg, possibly by standing before it, so that the egg was behind the beetle's scorpion tail. The egg looked like a white chicken's egg. But it may actually have contained a human being.

At some point the egg was no longer behind the beetle. It may have been near me or somehow in my possession. At another point, the beetle may have been climbing on the back of my neck.

(One side note, December 5th. I took a look on line to learn about scorpion eggs. Probably everybody in the world except for me knows this, but scorpions don't actually lay eggs.

Based on what I found on the internet, scorpions keep their eggs in their body. The babies are born live. The babies then often spend a short period maturing while living on their mother's back.

Sometimes scorpions do release their eggs. If they do, however, they often eat the eggs before they hatch.

So, interestingly, humans and scorpions have live birth in common. This might partly explain why the scorpion was protecting an egg with a human inside of it. And, I guess, the babies maturing on the mother's back might explain why the scorpion was climbing around on the back of my neck.)

Good morning, everybody. I remember four dreams from last night.

Dream #1

I was in a big airplane, either in the cockpit or near it while its door was open. In the plane were just me, the pilot, and one of my male friends. The sky outside was grey and wet.

We were taxiing down a runway. We picked up speed, as if we were going to take off. But we weren't getting up enough speed, in my opinion.

I could see from outside and just above the plane. The runway we were on looked way too short for our plane to get up enough speed to take off.

We taxied around the runway roads, clockwise, trying to loop back around and hit the long runway again with a little bit of momentum so we could build up enough speed to take off.

But somehow we ended up (as if we had been travelling counterclockwise) driving the plane outside of the airstrip and onto a strip of road before a large, Victorian-style house. The house was adjacent with the chain-link fence bordering the airport.

A military man in camouflage stood beside the airplane, talking with the pilot, as if he were just standing beside the window of some bus, not a huge airplane. The military man was older, white, tanned, with shortish, square-cut, white hair.

The military man said that the town in which this airport was located was being evacuated soon, anyway. Once it was evacuated, nobody would mind us using the public streets as a runway. That way we could easily get up enough speed to take off.

The military man said, "Heck, maybe even some of the people we evacuate out of the town would like to fly some planes with you!"

Somebody, maybe I, suggested that we get "some of those little planes" (in my mind's eye I saw cone-shaped planes maybe 3-4 meters long, painted white with red triangles pointing away from the nose). The "little planes" could easily get up enough speed to take off from a small runway like this.

We drove the plane away. The military man said he'd order some of "those little planes." He may even have started talking with a younger military man about the order.

It was now night. I stood before the Victorian house, in some little niche set between the wall and the staircase up to the front door. In the niche was an old-style, wooden podium. The podium may have held a big book.

I was probably here to talk to the military man regarding the little planes. I wasn't trying to speed up the order. I was actually trying to figure out what the planes were, to see if they were the right things to use. But I figured my being here to ask about the planes would make me look impatient, and that I'd get on the military's bad side because of it, if I didn't do things the right way.

Somebody came out to talk to me. He was a younger soldier, in formal dress, even a hat (which kind of looked like a Nazi hat). He explained a few things to me about the higher-ups' names. I tried to keep it all in mind.

The man saluted me. I was so surprised that I saluted back, with tears in my eyes (for some reason). Somehow I could see the man reflected in my tears, as if the tears were the surface of sunglasses.

I was alone again. I turned to the book in a frenzy. I had just forgotten everything the man had told me. The high-up military man's name was Wellinghoff. Or was it Norris? I couldn't remember. And I couldn't remember the correct titles of all the higher-ups, either.

Dream #2

I was in a bookstore or library. It had an old feel to it. It was all made of wood. It was open, with a ground level and probably a balcony level running along the walls. The ceilings were very high. The center of the store was mostly small, wide tables with books displayed on the. The walls were lined with shelves.

I saw, from high up, a couple of my female friends. One of them was aw woman I haven't seen since college. I decided to go say hi to them.

To get to them I began climbing down a wooden pole about 20cm in diameter. I was climbing down the pole head first for a way. Then I did some weird kind of fllip move so that I was climbing down feet first.

I ended near some small, tight, spiral staircase, for which this long pole may have served as a support column. The pole seemed to end a couple meters above the ground. I had to jump the rest of the way down. The two women were right nearby.

I slowly, flexibly reached away from the pole. I relaxedly leapt away from the pole, almost as if I were floating away from it. I landed very softly on my feet.

Thinking that the women would think I was showing off with all I had just done (I wasn't exactly sure myself how I had done it), I started talking naturally to act like nothing had happened.

I began fumbling through a couple of books and even something that looked like a mix between a woman's wallet with a tiny mirror on the front. The wallet may have been a dark blue suede, and it may have had some black and white photo of a famous actress or famous work of art on it.

Dream #3

I was in a department store. The store looked kind of cheap and run-down. I was now at the counter, getting my stuff rung up. The person ringing me up was a woman, but I don't know if she was older or younger.

Something went wrong, and the woman needed to wait before she charged me. I decided to walk around the store some more.

Off to the left of the cash register and a little ways away was a rack of really cheap-looking lingerie. For some reason, I decided to look through it. I took a few items off the rack, as if I were either going to buy them or try them on.

At some point, I came to the conclusion that I was in a Victoria's Secret.

I looked down into a plastic tub (?) which had a few stray pairs of panties inside. I figured that if I was buying or trying on the lingerie, I'd also need to try on some panties. So I tried to pick some out.

I remember one pair of panties that was like a thong, pale yellow, with a cottony back and a sheer, net-like front with flower designs on it. Another pair was like briefs. The material was blue like denim. But it had a weird, scaly look and feel.

Just to my left was a window wall. Just beyond the wall was another rack of lingerie. A big, tall, black man in a black t-shirt and sunglasses was fingering through the lingerie. I could see that he was also looking for articles of lingerie to try on.

Dream #4

I was in "my shower," which was a shower-only stall. It was set into the end of the narrow bathroom.

Either my shower curtain had broken or I had decided I'd needed to adjust it somehow. I took the curtain off the rod. Then I tried to put it back on.

I suddenly realized that by taking the curtain off the hook I'd screwed everything up. The curtain was actually just a gigantic plastic bag, like an enormous version of a grocery bag. The bag had been folded around the rod and against the wall (even into holes in the wall?) in so many weird ways that I likely couldn't replicate it.

I figured I'd do my best and try to re-do things. I was up on the wall, looking down on the shower curtain. I don't know how I was up there -- possibly by holding myself in place by doing the splits and holding each foot against the wall? I began working on the gigantic plastic bag.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a long line, probably all of young men, in a cafeteria or gymnasium that had been set up like a cafeteria. The cafeteria was crowded and busy. Everything had a bluish tinge to it. The line kind of snaked around in a square. It was moving slowly but steadily.

As I was working my way through the line, around one corner, I could see a group of girls sitting at the end of a long table. The girls looked like the girls from Girls Generation. They were also famous singers. I could see them only a little bit through the spaces between the people in front of me.

The girls started singing a little song/chant involving my name. It seemed like they were half-teasing me and half-flirting with me through the song. I knew that the girls were my friends. In fact, I had been sitting with them before I'd gotten in line.

I was now moving forward to where the girls could see me plainly. The line was still moving. I thought that as I passed the girls I would wave or do something like that to acknowledge them quickly without stopping and blocking up the line.

But when I was in full view of the girls, one of them told me to stop right where I was and stand still so she could take pictures of me. I stopped. But I was afraid of the guys behind me. They were tall and they seemed really mean. And it seemed like the instant I'd stopped walking, the guys had started to get impatient with me.

I was trying to think up a couple quick poses to give for the camera. But I could only think up feminine poses. I also felt shaky, because I was afraid of the guys behind me, who were getting very impatient. But I was trying to act unconcerned, innocently oblivious to the guys' anger. This somehow seemed feminine to me as well.

Good morning, everybody. I've had zero dream recall recently. But I remember this dream from last night.

Dream #1

I was in a cafeteria in the basement of a building. I had gotten food from a salad bar. I had a lot of food on my plate.

Now I was at the salad bar again, as if the whole scene were starting over. I had a plate. I was walking along the "salad bar," which was more like an open-faced refrigerator section for displaying drinks at a deli.

I heaped some lettuce and mushrooms onto my plate. I put some other kind of vegetable onto my plate. I lay a couple of long ears of baby corn by the lettuce. I also had some other kind of food by the baby corn.

Feeling the plate, I thought I had gotten too much food. The cafeteria would charge by the pound. This plate was heavy. It would cost me a lot of money. So I decided to put back the baby corn.

At this point I may have had a double-vision, as if my consciousness were in two places at once. I was still in the cafeteria, getting my food, or walking to the register to pay for my food. But I was also sat down in some long, glass-ceilinged corridor eating my food.

(The cafeteria itself had an eating area, I'm pretty sure, just past the registers. But the area I ate at seemed like it was in a different place altogether.)

I hunched over my food at the edge of a long, communal table that looked kind of like a big picnic table. A lot of people passed by me. I may have been in the hallway of a mall. The sunlight was pretty strong coming in through the glass ceiling. To my right, maybe 10 meters away, was a red cinder block walled elevator bank.

The speakers were playing "a U2 song," which may have sounded like "Vertigo." The lyrics said something about how everybody always said bad things about the Internet, but how Bono thought it was great, because it was like the Mona Lisa of porn.

(Good morning, everybody. I remember one dream from last night.

The character in my dream definitely looks like a person I know from waking life. I don't know him personally, but he goes to certain art events I also attend, including one last night.

He's not at all like the person in the dream. He's really cool and insightful. So I don't know why I dreamt of him being this way.)

Dream #1

I sat at an anime fest, in a place like a basketball arena. It was like everybody who had come to attend the festival were sitting in bleachers, looking down to a stage-like area that would be where the basketball court was. The seating section, as big as in any pro basketball arena, was completely packed.

I sat near the front row. The row I sat in had a big, wooden bannister before it, which kind of reminds me of the front railing in the public area in a court room, or of the balcony area where the public sits during government sessions in capitols.

The area where the basketball court would be was full, probably with artists' booths. But the festival patrons weren't going down there.

We were all watching some presentation given to us by some white man who was apparently a manga artist. The man may have been tall, a little overweight, balding, with red-brown hair, and red-tan skin. He may have been wearing a kind of old, green sweatshirt and blue jeans.

When the man's presentation was finished, the man announced that we could all come down to his booth. He had a black binder full of his manga art, and he informed us that we could each choose our favorite female manga character out of the binder and take the page for free. He might also have said he would sign the page.

An overweight, black man about my age, with thick glasses and wearing a dark blue sweatshirt, sat to my left. He said, probably to me, in a joking-confiding way, "Well, everybody who's in line behind me better get ready to wait a long time. Cause I'm gonna take my time going through that book until I find my favorite anime girl."

Some announcer called each person down by name. They called the man. Right after that, they called me. I stood behind the man as he slowly flipped through the pages of the binder.

The binder was huge, full of pages. The pages were probably all in individual plastic sleeves. The art looked very pencil-y but very professional. Some of the art was in grey pencil. Some was in blue pencil.

The man pulled something out of his pocket that looked like a cell-phone-sized laptop. He checked the time, put the device back in his pocket, and went back to leafing slowly through the pages.

I was trying really hard to think to myself who my favorite manga character was. All I could come up with was Jasmine from Disney's Aladdin. I thought I should be able to come up with a character better than that. But I figured that maybe Jasmine from Aladdin really was my favorite manga character.

The man had flipped all the way to the end of the binder. Then, saying out loud that he didn't see a manga girl he liked yet, he began flipping backward through the binder.

As I watched the man flip through the pages of the binder, I saw a number of drawings of Jasmine. I figured I'd be happy with just about any of those drawings. Seeing all these Jasmine drawings, I was starting to get impatient with the man. I could have had a perfectly fine picture and been gone by now. But this man wouldn't stop taking his turn!

The man pulled his "phone" back out of his pocket and looked at the time again. The phone indicated that he'd been flipping through the book for 20 or 22 minutes by now. (The phone may not have been showing the time. It may actually been timing the man as he flipped through the pages.)

The man nodded approval at the time, put his phone back in his pocket, and began flipping slowly through the binder again. He may have gone all the way backward through the binder and started flipping forward again.

Good morning everybody. I remember three really short dreams from last night. They were all from after 2 AM. I had coffee last night and couldn't fall asleep until 2 AM.

The third dream was pretty much all lucid, even though it was short.

Dream #1

I walked through some room toward a staircase. The staircase was just past a doorway and was part of some slightly larger hallway, like for a small apartment building.

The room I was in was something like a mix between a living room and a small apartment lobby.

I had to maneuver a little bit past some kids who were rough housing with each other right in front of the doorway to the hallway. There were boys and girls, probably in their early teens or just a little younger. Their parents stood nearby. I thought the kids were funny, and they looked like they were having fun.

I wallked into the hallway and turned toward the staircase. A group of kids ran just in front of me, blocking me from the staircase. The began wrestling and rough housing with each other. I thought they were pretty funny. I just waited for their rough housing to pass.

But then I remembered that the parents were in the doorway, watching the kids. I thought that the parents would think I was weird for hanging around and watching the kids. I decided to get moving. I tried to edge past the kids. It was really difficult, because there were so many kids, and the hallway was so small.

Dream #2

I was in "my bed," in "my bedroom," which was a lot like my bedroom in waking life, except messy. My lights were on.

I was laying face-down on my bed. I was thinking bad thoughts about God. For some reason, I was really angry at God. The more I cursed him, the more amusing I found the activity.

Eventually my legs began levitating off the bed. I wasn't controlling it, but I thought I might be able to. My legs lifted higher and higher until my body was almost perpendicular to the bed, with my head on the bed.

At some point, I noticed little specks of dirt or something black all over my bed. There were also hairs or cotton fibers, also colored black, all over my bed.

I started trying to blow all the dust and dirt and hair off my bed. Some of it would blow away. But there was so much. I wondered how I could have let my bed get so dirty.

Dream #3

I was in "my bedroom" at night. I was crouched down on the floor, possibly naked, with my knees to my chest. The bedroom lights were off, but I could see by the purplish evening light.

I told myself that this wasn't actually my bedroom. That seemed pretty obvious. I told myself I was dreaming.

As soon as I told myself this, I had a false awakening and sat up on "my bed." But I was still lucid.

I stood out of the bed and told myself to remain calm. I figured I would walk out of the house and see what was around. The house seemed like a suburban house.

I was heading for the front door. But suddenly I thought, Why should I exit through the door? If I'm in a dream, I should be able to leave the house any way I want.

So I decided to walk through a wall. I turned right, into another room, possibly another bedroom. I walked straight up to the wall, which had a window on it that started at about my chest.

I thought I might climb up onto the windowsill and walk through the window. But I figured I didn't need to go throgh the trouble. Walking through a wall and walking through a window were basically the same thing.

I began to walk through the wall. It seemed pretty easy. But suddenly I saw a bright light. I felt like something was resisting. I got kind of mad, and I pushed really hard through the resistance.

I'm pretty sure I lost lucidity at this point. I fell past the wall and fell a couple stories down to the ground. I think that as I fell, I was telling myself, Oh well, I guess I woke up from that dream.

I sat up. It was daytime. I "had awoken from my dream." To my right was a red brick wall. To my left was a beach, possibly like Coney Island. The sky was deep blue and the light was dim, almost as if I were looking at an old film.

Good morning, everybody. These dreams probably all occurred in the early morning, maybe after 2:30 or 3 AM.

The first two dreams had a weird visual quality, as if I were reading them or half-reading them. I think this comes from the fact that last night I read Oe Kenzaburo's story "Teach Us to Outgrow Our Madness, in which one of the characters is a boy who can't see very well.

The emotional difficulty the boy's father has with this and other things is so vivid that I think my unconscious tried to put me in that boy's position in one way or another.

Dream #1

I was half-reading and half-watching a story about a man and a woman at a hotel. The man was in danger, and the woman was trying to protect him. The man and the woman were both spies. The man had probably gotten caught in the act.

The woman had brought the man to the hotel for hiding. She may now have been explaining to the man that he was a spy. This may have come as a surprise to the man, who didn't actually want to be a spy.

The woman may then have made some sort of flirtatious gestures or comments to the man. The man may have understood that the woman wanted to have sex with the man while they were at the hotel. But the man didn't want to have sex. The woman may have, reluctantly, gotten the point, after which she turned to talking about some "serious" topic with the man.

Dream #2

I was reading an email from one of the bosses of my department, M. M's email was written in regular black text, except words and phrases that he wanted to emphasize, which were in bold and colored brown.

The first part of the email had to do with the fact that our larger company was getting to celebrate some royal wedding from a number of decades ago. An old, royal couple would be visiting the offices.

I could see the couple in my head, as if looking at a photograph from the late 1800s. They woman was dressed in a Victorian dress. The man was dressed in a military suit and medals.

M wrote that we had to treat the royal couple very nice because they were major investors in our company.

M's email then went on to say that M was going to be let go from the company in just a little while. He was going to stay on to make sure a couple of big events were taken care of. He wasn't bitter he was getting fired. He understood.

I now saw a tall, thin, old, white man in a lonely office hallway. The man stood before a copier that was set into a niche in the wall. The copier had a strange-looking top. It looked like some kind of animal trap, covered over in a metal shell and painted the same color of grey-beige as the copier.

I knew that, to make copies, you had to drop the papers onto the top of the strange device. The papers would then fall into the copier, as they would fall into a garbage can.

Dream #3

I had been in a room full of people, mostly women, doing some kind of small workshop or conference. The room had emptied out largely, with just a few people around. Now, even though I stood in the room still, it was like a number of months had passed since the conference.

I was looking for somebody to celebrate "the holiday" with. The holiday was like Christmas, but it wasn't Christmas. I asked a short woman if she would like to celebrate the holiday with me. She probably said she couldn't. But then she remembered that another girl, an Israeli girl, was looking for someone to spend the holiday with.

The Israeli girl called me on the phone. I could see the girl in my mind's eye. She was short, with olive skin, and long, black hair. I was really happy I was going to get to go out with her.

The Israeli girl told me something like there was no way she was going to be able to get back home "to West Tel Aviv" (I'm not sure if people make such an explicit distinction as "West Tel Aviv" in waking life). I thought of Tel Aviv and told the Israeli girl how much I wanted to go there. One of my favorite psychologists, Erich Neumann, spent the final years of his life there.

I told the girl something like she must hear people say stuff like that all the time. I told her it must get annoying to hear people talk about her home like it was so perfect, when it wasn't actually very easy at all to live there.

I (false) remembered a conversation I'd had with a woman from another country. The woman had told me about how naïve she thought some foreigners were. They'd say how much culture they thought her country had. But they didn't understand that it was really a scary place to live.

I was now in a big room, sitting on a couch so that my legs were propped up on the back and my back lay on the seat cushion. A pretty, blonde college girl stood before the couch. The girl was tall, thin, slim, and tan, with blue eyes. She wore a pink sweater and dark blue jeans.

The girl was giving a speech about different media-propaganda campaigns made by certain regions of the world to make other regions of the world look bad. She was giving a lot of really interesting examples. It sounded like dangerous information to have. But it also sounded like she was referencing Hollywood in almost every example.

I tried to pay closer attention to the girl's speech. But there were a bunch of girls getting up and leaving, walking between me and the girl and making such noise, talking with each other, that I couldn't get what the girl was saying. Her last example had something to do with New York carrying out a smear campaign against Chicago.

Other than the girl and I, there was only one woman now in the room. She was like a professor and like the girl's mother. She was working at a big desk off in the corner of the room.

The girl now flopped down on a couch near mine. We were something like good friends. But I was now really sexually aroused by her. So I rolled off the couch and crawled over to her couch.

For some reason, I asked the girl, "So now what are you going to do with you life?"

The girl's belly was a little exposed from under the sweater. I had intended to roll up and see if I could get away with snuggling with the girl on the couch. But, seeing the girl's belly and waistline, I just decided to stick my hand into the girl's jeans.

So I lifted up the girl'ls waistline and began feeling her. I was surprised to discover that the girl was wearing a baby's diaper. This didn't worry me too much. I moved my hand farther down toward the girl's crotch.

Suddenly the girl demanded, "What are you doing?"

I thought, Oh no! She doesn't want me touching her. I was so embarrassed that I woke up.

Good morning, everybody. I recall three dreams from "last night" -- although these dreams all come from about the last hour that I was in bed.

Dream #1

I was in "my house," which was a two-floor house. I was in a bedroom on the second floor of the house. The curtains were pulled back. Outside, the sky looked grey and cold.

I may have just moved into this house. I was kind of surprised that I had so much space. I'd never had this much space in my life. Still, the place wasn't huge. It was two floors, but it was rather narrow.

Nevertheless, as I walked down the stairs to the first floor, I thought that people would see a guy like me living in a place like this, and, getting jealous, they'd try to break into my place.

I tried to think of what I could do to prevent a break-in. I thought I would never use anything I owned while sitting near a window on the second floor. That way nobody would ever see that I actually owned anything.

I thought that the only thing I would do on the first floor would be to watch TV, even though I thought that would be dangerous, too. But I figured that everybody owned a TV. So why would anybody want mine, too?

I considered what I would watch on TV. I wondered if I had cable TV. I hadn't owned a TV in quite some tiime. Maybe everybody got cable TV nowadays. Or maybe, I thought, this place was like a hotel. And all hotels had cable TV. I may have considered watching some porn.

Dream #2

I was in a living room of an apartment with a group of friends, none of whom I recognize. The friends were all young, pretty cool. The living room was a little dim, as if it were lit only from a light in the hallway, around a corner.

I sat on the floor before a coffee table that was set against the wall. A stereo stood on the coffee table. Cluttered before the stereo were huge binders full of lists of karaoke songs.

I had one book open and was flipping through the pages, trying to find a particular song. But the book was full of pictures instead of titles. Each page may have had two or three CD-sized pictures on each side. One picture I remember of a person (man?) standing over a dark landscape under a purple sky.

There were so few pictures per page and so few pages in this book, that I thought the chances were slim of my song being in this book. And I couldn't figure out how the songs were arranged: not in alphabetical order, but in some kind of picture order -- if they were, in fact, in any order at all.

I concluded that my song wasn't in this particular book. Somebody may have taken the book from me. I shuffled through some of the other books. I may now not even have been able to remember what song I wanted to sing.

The covers of the binders were all really awesome. They had all kinds of flaming designs of people,guitars, and monsters. Each binder held song lists for a specific genre of music, and the picture on the front represented the genre. Sometimes the picture actually had the name of the genre written above it in fancy lettering.

I finally chose a certain binder, figuring this was the genre of music I wanted to sing, so that the song I'd been looking for all along would probably be in this binder.

Dream #3

I was at "my house," an apartment on the upper floor of a big building. The apartment probably had a living room and two or three bedrooms.

The apartment was busy with a few other people, probably all older than me, some of them somewhat older. There weren't a lot of people in the apartment, but the craziness of their actions made it feel like the place was stuffed with people. The living room was bright, frenetic, and totally messy.

The apartment was all mine, but the people who were here right now were trying to move in and stay here. For some reason, I really wasn't doing much about it.

Just off from the living room was a small, bright hallway. At the end of the hallway was a little niche, in which was set a white, wood chest of drawers. The chest was a little more than a meter tall, and maybe 2/3 of a meter wide.

Some old, short, fat, white man with a balding head, scraggly, grey hair, and a loose, stubbly face, had one of the drawers open and was crowding me away from it. I was fighting the man, trying to get him out of my stuff. This was my chest, and the man had no right messing around with it.

But the man kept shoving me off. He was pouring stuff into the top drawer from out of a garbage bag. The old man himself may have been wearing a weird outfit that looked like a mix between a potato sack, long underwear, a mattress, and a garbage bag.

I looked into the drawer. It looked like there were a bunch of small, empty,glass vials inside. It looked like vials that had once held drugs. I got really mad. Was this guy pouring garbage bags full of drugs and drug paraphernalia all over my house?

(Good morning, everybody. This is a really long entry. Sorry.

I remember three dreams from last night. The first two dreams happened sometime between midnight and 5 AM. The third dream was between about 5:30 AM and 7 AM.

I became lucid in the third dream, and sustained my lucidity for quite a while. But I think it was mainly because I “conserved my energy” and didn’t really try anything out of my normal range of dream-activity.)

Dream #1

I was coming back to “my apartment.” I was walking through a building that itself was as big as a small neighborhood. I walked through one area, a huge room with tall ceilings and wood walls.

As I walked through the area, I went past a young man and woman who were possibly standing outside the door to the woman’s apartment. The door may have been pale blue.

The woman was very pretty, with copper-colored skin and long, straight, black hair. The man was handsome, white, tall, with blonde hair about down to his shoulders. He wore a grey, wool cap and some winter clothes.

The man was telling the woman that he would make sure her move went smoothly. She was apparently moving to another place, and she was nervous about it. I gathered, from the man’s speech to the woman, that the man would make sure she didn’t experience the same harassment she’d experienced at her present apartment.

But as I was walking past the couple (I didn’t actually get very close to them, and I had to exit via another door into another room in order to get to “my building”), the man and woman expressed some kind of concern that I was going to get them in trouble. It was as if, as well as the woman experiencing harassment from some group of people, the man and the woman had themselves been accused of causing trouble in their neighborhood. They thought I was the kind of person who would get them in trouble again.

I walked softly and quickly through the door, trying my best to give an impression to the man and woman that I was nice, that I wouldn’t harass the woman, and that I wouldn’t get the man and woman in trouble – in other words, that I would just mind my own business.

I walked into the next area, which was like a mix between some completely forgotten room or corridor in an enormous mansion and a back alley. A light shone from high above, and at the heights of the room, it was dark as night, though it was light enough near the floor. The walls were wood, and the floor had a pale, blue-grey carpeting. But there was junk everywhere, like tattered cardboard boxes, wadded up pieces of wrapping plastic, and other garbage. There seemed to be turns and staircases here and there, leading up to other “apartment buildings.”

I walked toward my building, which didn’t even have a front door, just a staircase leading up to a winding ramp into darkness. My landlord, an older, black man or woman, stood at the top of or on one of the curves in the ramp. He/she apparently knew I was coming home, so he/she was waiting to welcome me back. I may have been away for a few days, doing something like visiting my family.

I didn’t realize, but the young man had followed me all the way here. My “building,” it turned out, was the building that the young woman would be staying in. I thought that for sure the man would now be panicked. He and the woman had been so afraid to begin with that I would get them in trouble. And now it looked like I had “reverse followed” him all the way to the woman’s new residence.

I tried to act natural and cool, to make the man understand I wasn’t going to do anything mean to him or the woman. I spoke a little bit with the landlord, in a kind of easy, happy tone. I then said I was going to head on in to my room and get a little rest.

As I headed toward my room, through a door along a dim balcony facing at an odd angle to the ramps and the long alley-corridor, I heard the landlord now speaking with the young man. I thought, Why not prove that I’m a good guy, and let the young man see inside my room? Once he sees how lived-in my place is, he’ll know I’ve been here a few years, I’m a decent guy, and that I won’t do anything rude or mean to the woman or him?

So I called attention to the landlord and the young man. I had them come over to my room. I opened the door to my room. The room was humongous and dim. But I could tell, just by glancing inside, that the room was a complete mess – a disaster! Plus, the place just let out a horrendous smell, like tons and tons of socks that hadn’t been washed for months!

I quickly closed the door and told the landlord and young man nevermind, that I must have forgotten what I wanted to tell them. They walked away, kind of disappeared.

I suddenly felt suspicious of the young man. I felt that, now that he’d seen even just a little into my room, and he’d seen where I live, that he’d try to break into my room. I closed my door. I walked slowly away, as if I was trying to put on some kind of show that I didn’t really live in this apartment.

I suddenly recognized that, just beyond my door, the wall to my room only went up to about the middle of my chest. You could see inside the room just by standing out on the balcony. I looked inside, hoping that nothing of value would be easily spotted, prompting the young man to break into my house and steal things.

All I could see, though, anywhere, was a bunch of clutter and garbage. I felt like there was no way I could have left my place this way when I’d left. Had I been that neglectful of things? Or had I been gone so long that my place just kind of dissolved into these shambles of itself?

I walked around the corner of the balcony, now facing some dim corner of the alley-corridor directly, but still having a good view into my room.

Down below, in my room, I saw a huge, pale-blue, L-shaped couch. It was completely torn up. The stuffing of the couch was bloating out of the cushions, and a black, metal frame jutted out the edges.

Suddenly, my mother burst out from the inside of the couch. She scrambled out of the couch cushions. She then rabidly twitched and scratched against the couch, tearing it even more to pieces. She looked terrible, like she’d become some kind of wild animal.

I was terrified by this. But I quickly became indignant. Who had allowed my mother into my apartment? I ran down the balcony to find someone to complain to.

I ended up on some dark hilltop, under a small tree. It was pitch black night, but I could see, as if a car from somewhere were shining its lights on the scene. There were a few people wandering around, possibly Hispanic.

I found my father, who was almost cartoonishly wide. He was also dressed somewhat like a clown, in red clothes with pink and orange polka-dots. He may even have worn a clown-nose.

I yelled at my dad, “Why did you let my mom into my apartment?”

My dad gave me some kind of excuse that sounded half-hearted but official, so that I couldn’t really argue against it.

Dream #2

I was in a subway station, waiting for the train to come. I was in a far-off, unfamiliar neighborhood, and I had been doing some kind of activity that made me tired and ready to go back somewhere familiar.

The subway station was more like the lobby for a building like a hospital. I sat at a table in an area that looked like a makeshift café. The serving counter may have been in a small room, off to my right. Behind me, there may have been the main lobby area, large and bright, with a lot of sunlight flowing through the window-walls.

To my left was a wide doorway, through which I could see one subway platform. Through a kind of dim, plasticky window at the opposite end of the room and in front of me, I could see another subway platform.

I pulled out a book, crossed my legs, slumped in my chair, and started reading. A couple of teenage boys sat down a couple of tables away from me. They were making jokes with each other, pretty relaxed. They seemed cool. But for some reason, I didn’t want them to notice me. I thought they might start trouble.

Suddenly I could see, from some kind of reflection, that the train on the platform to my left was coming. It seemed to be coming without warning and very quickly. In a rush, the boys and I stood up from our tables and ran to the platform.

But I didn’t want the boys to know I got on this train. I felt that if they knew this about me they could hurt me somehow. So I tried to act like I wasn’t getting onto this train.

But when I got out to the platform (which was huge, wide, with tall ceilings, nothing like in NYC), the train wasn’t there. I heard the rushing of a train to my left. I looked and saw, down the platform, and up at the top of a tall staircase, a different train arriving at another platform. Was it just that train I’d heard? But I could have sworn I’d seen the train arrive on this platform, as well as heard it.

I looked down into the well for the train and tracks for my platform – and was terribly shocked! Instead of tracks, the floor was completely empty, trackless, and painted a bright yellow. There were no tracks! No train could ever have arrived here! But I was sure this was where the train was supposed to be – where I had actually seen it arrive!

I felt terribly foggy all of the sudden, as if I had fallen into a different world.

I heard the train on the second platform, off to my right, arriving. I thought I’d take that train. But I knew it wouldn’t get me anywhere close to where I wanted to go. I knew I’d just have to take this train, at this platform, whenever it came, no matter how long it took.

So I went back into the café area to go back to reading my book.

Dream #3

I was in my great-grandmother’s house. I had apparently been there for a long time. The place looked nothing like it had looked while my great-grandmother was alive: it was dim, grey-blue, and strewn garbage, household items, and even streams of toilet paper.

I walked around in the kitchen and dining room, possibly picking up and eating and drinking pieces of food and drink that had been left out for a long time on dirty plates and in dirty, grimy cups. There may also have been dirty, rusty knives, or something like that, somewhere.

I walked back into the living room. I felt like I had isolated myself in my great-grandmother’s house for so long. It had been days. Here I’d been, back home all this time, and I hadn’t visited my mother once!

I thought I’d give her a call and let her know I was at my great-grandma’s house, and that she could come visit me or maybe even pick me up so we could go somewhere to visit with each other. But I hesitated – I now felt so guilty having neglected my mother for all these days, that I knew just calling her would cause me a lot of heart-breaking pain.

I was suddenly in “my bedroom” at “my house.” The room was clean, a little barren. Nice sunlight flowed in through the window. It was cheerful enough. But it felt somehow lonely – not just lonely, but sterile, padded.

Something about this feeling made me realize I was dreaming. I realized I was now lucid. I told myself to keep calm and just go exploring this place as if it were a real environment.

(Oddly enough, when I became lucid, I may have “transformed” into a tallish, white, young man with tanned skin, blue eyes, and short-shaved, blonde hair. I have no idea why.)

I walked out of the bedroom and into “my living room.” I was in a suburban house. The house looked small and nice. But it was completely empty. It had thick, brown carpet.

I walked very slowly, to keep my emotions calm. I was heading for the front door. This was a kind of challenge for me, and I knew (even in my dream-state), that I had to keep calm in order to do this. I knew, I remembered (the truth, not a false memory – I mean, insofar as etc., etc.) that when I’d become lucid indoors in the past, my lucidity would end as soon as I walked outside, as if I hadn’t believed my imagination could “create” an outdoor space.

I got to the door. It had a strange bolt-lock on it, which I thought was kind of over-doing things. I worked the lock out and pulled open the door.

It was a bright, sunshiny day in a suburban neighborhood. I told myself to remain calm, remember this was all a dream, and just explore the place like it was a real environment.

My front yard was a tangle of flowery vegetation and rough, dark shrubs. There was a driveway off to my right, with a big, brown, 1970s-style car.

A blonde man, very tan, with a long tangle of hair and beard, was messing around near “my car.” He looked crazy, and I was afraid of him. But I was also pissed that he was messing around my car. So I yelled at him, “Hey! Hey! What are you doing?”

The crazy man hunched up (he never really stood) and turned toward me. He shouted and growled and barked all kinds of weird things at me and started rambling toward me violently. For some reason, he was holding a Panini and a paper plate in his hands, as if he had been eating a Panini when he’d seen my car and decided to vandalize it or rip it off.

It seemed as if the crazy man were going to try to invade my home. So I yelled at him, “Don’t you come near!”

The neighbor from the house to my left, an Asian man, in his late 30s or early 40s, wearing glasses, a pink-red polo shirt, and khaki shorts, walked out of his house and into my yard. He’d heard the commotion and was coming to help me.

I yelled again at the crazy man to back off and not to come anywhere near my home. But I also tried to make it seem to my neighbor like I had the situation under control. I felt like this crazy man was somehow important to whatever I was supposed to learn from this lucid dream. So I had to keep him at a distance without scaring him away entirely. I also wanted to make sure my neighbor didn’t scare away the crazy man.

Off to my right, in my garden, I saw a strange plant that looked like a Cleome topped with a cabbage. The cabbage was pink and white, like Cleome flowers.

Somehow, either my yelling my neighbor’s yelling had finally scared away the crazy man. He ran off. I, and possibly my neighbor, ran after him.

He ran down toward a chain link fence that ran along the crest of a kind of tall, kind of steep, cliff-like hill. I was calling to the crazy man to stop. I wasn’t trying to do him harm. But my neighbor was running faster than me, and he was chasing the crazy man quite violently.

The crazy man found a bent-up part of chain-link fence and crawled under it. I followed. I saw the crazy man run down the steep, brown hill-face, jumping into a shallow, muddy river or creek at the bottom.

My neighbor was still ahead of me, intent on capturing the crazy man. But once the crazy man was in the water, he did something to himself so that my neighbor could no longer see him. He had changed his wild, blonde hair into a weird, pink, green, and white, spiky flower style, looking like a hairdo-mix of a Cleome and a lotus. He ducked down low in the creek so that only his head was above water.

But I could still see that it was the crazy man. I wondered why my neighbor couldn’t. Nothing was different about the crazy man’s face: it was just his hair that looked like a lotus floating on the water.

I could see that the crazy man was drifting toward a group of copper-skinned, black haired children who were playing and splashing about near the creek’s banks. I thought that it might be a good idea to get the crazy man away from the children. He had gone over to them to blend in with them until we left. But I had a feeling that if he suddenly went crazy again, he could hurt the kids.

But now the crazy man and my neighbor were gone. I stood in some rocky area, looking down to the kids playing in the creek. At some point I looked over to my right and saw that there was a subway station, just jutting in a platform out of the hill, as if it were half-finished, forgotten. But it also looked new, clean, modern, even futuristic. And it was functional.

I saw some kids, maybe pre-teen or teenage, playing around near the platform, waiting for the train. I was up near the top of the hill now (which, instead of being muddy or earthy, was now rocky). I was at a pretty level view with the platform and with the kids. I hoped they wouldn’t notice me, because I didn’t want them to start trouble with me.

My emotions got so unstable that I felt my lucidity fading away.

But instead of the dream continuing, not lucid, everything blacked out. I told myself, you’re losing your lucidity. You’re waking up altogether. Go back to being in the dream, and being lucid.

So now I was back in the dream, lucid. I lay, stomach down, over some ledge of rock, looking down to some of the kids playing in the creek. They may have been a boy and a girl. They noticed me and started handing me toys to play with with them. One of the toys was a plastic horse.

I played around with the horse a little bit, then handed it back to the kids, who went back into the water.

I walked into the subway station. Inside, it seemed like it had become night. The station was lit gently with a kind of street-quality, greenish, fluorescent flood-lamp. The walls were a brownish stone, and the floors were some kind of granite-like grey. There was a downward staircase in the center of the lobby-area, and there were a few different corridors leading off from the main lobby-area.

I walked down one of the corridors off to my right. I heard a bunch of teenage kids who sounded like they were joking and having a good time. I decided that I should probably talk with the kids instead of being nervous and shy around them. This was a dream, and I was here to explore whatever I ran into.

So I saw the kids. They were a group of white boys and girls, dressed in kind of loose baggy sweaters and wool caps. They were making a bunch of jokes which struck me as intelligent and funny. I thought I’d talk to them. But they really didn’t pay any attention to me. So, rather than trying to hard to get their attention and getting hostile attention, I walked down another corridor.

But now I heard somebody calling for me. I wound around through the corridors, back to the area where the kids had been. It had definitely sounded like one of the boys, calling me back to be part of the group.

But when I got back to the area – something like a lobby, with a long, wooden counter at the front of the room, and a tall, nice painting on the cinder-block wall to my left – there were no kids, only two women. The women were both naked. They walked toward me, side by side.

The woman on the right was very tall, maybe a foot taller than I (or “I” in the dream). She was naked, but she wore a dark-blue plume of feathers as a headdress and a spray of dark blue feathers around her waist and back. She looked like a burlesque performer.

The woman on the left was still taller than I, maybe by an inch or two. She was pale, with long, curly, light-red hair. The women were both offering themselves to me for sex. I chose the shorter woman.

The woman stood right in front of me, almost to the point of pressing up to me. I asked her a question, and she replied. Satisfied, I began kissing her body.

We had sex in two or three different positions. But in one position I realized I was just doing a terrible job, and that I must just be making a weird situation for the woman, even though she did at least appear to be having fun. Regardless, I got so ashamed of what I perceived as being my stupid clumsiness that I woke up.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in the backseat of a car full of people, probably women ranging from my age down to about 13. The driver may have been one of the girls' mothers, and she may have acted as a mother-figure for me as well.

I think I was going to an airport. But since I had a little time before I had to catch my flight, I was going to walk through the cemetery first.

A couple of girls had gotten out of the car to let me out. The car was a big, wide, 1970s-style sedan, probably pale beige colored. We stood in a dusty parking lot that felt like it was in the middle of a construction area, like for a small business park that was just being constructed.

I was now in a tall mansion, up in a room on the second or third floor, reading. I sat in a big, heavy wood chair at a big, heavy table made of dark wood. The room was small, crammed full of all kinds of books. The floors were probably some kind of dark wood. A decent amount of daylight came in through a window.

I looked up to see that one of the women (whom I recognize as a woman who works at a bookstore I frequent in waking life) was sitting across the table from me, reading. I was surprised that she had come to read as well.

Now a couple other girls bustled into the room. They said it was time for me to go to the airport. We left the room. We walked down a tight, steep stairwell.

I kept trying to ask the woman what book she had been reading. But the other women kept dissuading me, as if we didn't have time for me to ask such a question.

We were now outside the mansion, walking down a tight, narrow, stone staircase that ran from the porch, down a steep hill of lawn and past a tall stone wall, down to the curb where our car was.

As we descended beyond the stone wall, we passed a few cluttery stacks of old-looking books. I may have heard the woman who had been reading with me telling me (through telepathy?) things about the book she had been reading. Either she or I had been reading a book having something to do with Irish culture, possibly the Celtic aspect of it.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a bedroom which may have been my bedroom with a pretty woman. The room was warmly lit and it seemed to have pink coloring in certain parts. The woman wore a white tank top with pink straps.

The woman sat on the floor, explaining how she was new to this town and how she needed certain things. These things weren't necessities but were rather like items for fun. Maybe they were tickets to shows, or something like that.

She might have been planning to sell the tickets once she got them. Her plan might possibly also have included befriending men to get them to gibe her these tickets for free on a regular basis, then turning around and selling the tickets above face value.

I was now walking through a pine forest. The forest seemed clean, too clean, almost like a stage forest. The trees were tall and deep jade-green. The forest was shady.

Somehow I discovered something about the branches of the pine trees. It was like they were all dripping a clear, sugary syrup.

I was somewhere, possibly back in the room, trying to explain to the woman that she didn't need all the stuff she thought she needed. The trees produced food, and that could sustain her. But the woman wouldn't listen to me. I wasn't talking about the same thing as she was talking about. She didn't want only sustenance. I tried again to explain to the woman what was going on with the trees, what they were producing.

I was in the forest again, floating up through the trees. Beyond the trees was a tree-like structure in the sky, all made out of the clear, sugary syrup. The syrup was solid enough to form a lattice-like structue. I saw a couple of "my friends" (both male or one male and one female) sitting on a couple of seat-like parts on either side of this tree.

As I approached the tree the syrup became like drops, raining down on me. I opened my mouth to try and catch the drops.

Dream #2

I was in a room that looked like a room in a house that had been converted into an office. The place was very cluttered with paper and old office equipment. There were desks for at least two workers.

I had possibly done something dumb at my job. I was listening to a voice message from "my CEO" (!) about what a bad job I'd done. The CEO's voice was mellow and rambling, but a little bitter. I got up from my desk and walked away.

I came back. The voice message was still going. The guy who sat in the desk next to me -- a bunch of old, unused office equipment served as the partition between us -- told me, "Man, you're in trouble. This guy's saying a lot of bad stuff about you. I think he's gonna try to make you stop working here."

I thought that could be true. The CEO could be trying to make it look like I was trying to quit my job and go work somewhere else. Then he could fire me for that. But I didn't care. I just kept listening to his strange mellow, rambling, bitter voicemail.

Eventually the voicemail became something about how everybody in the office was quitting. The voicemail then became something like an online news show about everybody in my office quitting.

I walked out of this room and into another room. I was apparently in the basement of this house. The place was cluttered with household items and office items. In one big room, a bunch of workers were gathered around on a couch, eating pizza and watching TV.

I went into another room. Some tall, thin, pale, white man with a thin beard and wearing a casual sweater and slacks, told me about a number of people who were quitting. This apparently included the CEO.

The man and I walked through a hallway with another man, talking about how unfortunate it was that everybody was quitting. We were now in a kitchenette near the stairs up to the ground floor of this house.

The two men, who were gentle and easygoing, opened the fridge and started pulling out pizza. At this point, I may have seen from the viewpoint of a child. I thought that I was hungry, too, and that I would also like to have some pizza. But I also felt bad for wanting pizza, as if I'd eaten too much already.

Good morning, everybody. I remember two dreams from last night. The second dream occurred in a 15-minute space between my waking up to check the time and my actually getting out of bed.

Dream #1

I was in a forest or a park. It was a clear, autumn day. I stood with a small group of people who were probably around my age. We were hiding or just standing behind a tall tree like a poplar but with really ropy bark.

In a leaf-strewn clearing just beyond the tree, a woman was interviewing "the famous artist" Dylan Reed. He was either a poet or a punk rock singer. But he was generally known as a kind of rebel genius.

The interviewer started asking the man a series of questions based on something I had told her about a friend of mine who was also known as kind of a wild guy. The friend may have been among the group of people standing with me behind the tree.

I felt embarrassed that the interviewer was posing all these questions in such a way that they were obviously about my friend and they were obviously made to guve the impression that I thought badly about my friend. And, worst of all, they were posed directly to "the famous artist" Dylan Reed, of whom I thought so much!

The scene of the interview seemed to change from being in the forest or park to being in some kind of department store, possibly near the perfume section. The interview was now over, and the woman had walked away.

One or two friends and I were now trying to meet Dylan Reed, who was still milling around, all by himself. He seemed to be a tall, good-looking, white man, somewhat well dressed, with hair about down to his jawline. The perfume area was now something like an area displaying things like small luggage and bookbags.

Dylan Reed and my wild friend were something like the same person. My friends and I got a chance to speak with him. While my friends, in particular a pretty female friend, were speaking with Dylan Reed, I was thinking to myself how to make him understand that I didn't think about him in such a critical way as the interviewer had made it sound.
I may have been staring at a very nice, navy blue book bag up on a glass shelf. I may have seen it from a low angle, a child's point of view.

Dream #2

I walked through a very nice lobby like in a museum or a very big library. There were stone columns and walls, marble floors, and wide, curving staircases. A dim light flowed in from high windows. Some walls or portions of walls may also have been wooden.

I was particularly interested in a set of columns that looked "Egyptian," with very ornate, almost wood-like, carvings of fruit and tree-textures.

I was either walking with or meeting up with a woman about my age, possibly my old friend P. She told me, "I've been around this place since the mid-70s. So I've seen it really develop and change through the whole remodeling process." I was pretty impressed.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a bedroom with a woman who looked like the woman from the band Republica, but with a lot of red-dyed strands in her hair and copper-tan skin. The room was dim, as if lit only by a very small lamp. It was also bare, with only the bed for furniture. The bed had no blankets.

The woman was naked and writhing around on the bed. I got on top of her and had sex with her. We had sex in a couple different positions (although I seem to have finished shamefully quickly).

We lay on the bed. The woman looked at the walls of the room. They were filled with manga sketches that looked professionaly done. The woman either asked me why I liked manga or whether I thought manga was an art. I told her I definitely thought it was an art.

I tried to express how I'd seen comic artists draw, and how that alone would have conviced me. But I was unable to bring out the words to say that. So I told the woman that I'd show her.

We got up (the woman -- and I -- may have remained naked throughout the dream) and walked out of the room. We were in some basement. I knew this basement had been made into a manga museum. It was like the house of which this basement was a part was on a college campus. The house held rooms for students, like the room the woman and I had just been in. And the students had volunteered their rooms while they were away (on vacation) to be exhibit rooms for a temporary manga museum.

The basement was very dark, lit only by a strange, dim, red light. There were four doors for "dorm rooms" on the wall to our left. The room we were in was like a big common area.


I told the woman I'd find her some classic manga and show her why I thought it was art. We went into the door at the farthest end of the room. We went inside.

The room was also dim, barely lit by a red light. The place smelled terrible! I looked around. It looked like a normal college boy's dorm, nothing out of the ordinary. But the smell drove me crazy. So I left. The woman stayed in there, looking through some manga on a thin, tall bookshelf.

I walked a couple rooms down. I may have thought about switching on some lights in the place. But I didn't want anybody outside to know the woman and I were here. I figured if they knew we were here they'd all want to come in. Then the place would get crowded.

I went into another room. This room was supposed to have manga from a very early period. For some reason I kept thinking about Golgo 13. I thought there was something in particular about the brushstrokes in manga that were just perfect. But you'd only know it deeply if you saw someone actually sketching things out (with a pencil?).

I probably spent some time in this other room, looking at manga and individual pages of drawings.

At some point, people started coming down into the manga museum. Morning light may also have started to fill the rooms.

Dream #2

I was with some group of kids at a sports camp or a summer training vacation. We had been out on a large, grassy field, doing some kind of fun training, possibly with a giant robot of some sort.

We were now all in a bedroom, on a bunk bed. There were a lot of us boys on the top and bottom bunks. We probably weren't sleeping. We were probably just hanging out and goofing off before the next training thing we had to go to.

I lay on the bottom bed. I was a little disappointed by this sports camp. It was all about football, and I was more interested in cross country.

There was a black boy laying just at my head, sideways to me, like we'd form a T. Another black boy hung over the top bunk, talking to the boy on my bunk.

The boy said, "When they got that new cross country coach, things really changed, right? He got some of those kids who were no good at football. Nobody thought football players could run long distance. But he sure showed them.

"Man, it's too bad tou didn't see my last race! I was really proud of myself. When I started, I thought I was gonna get a lousy time. But I got my best time ever!"

Somebody called all us boys out to take a bus to our next training event. So we were getting up. The boy on the top bunk climbed down and walked over to a dresser. I stood up and went to the dresser, too.

I hoped nobody would ask me about my times in cross country. They'd been horrible. I didn't want to actually say my best time out loud and be laughed at. I kept thinking of the time 18:38 in my head, even though I knew that was a faster time than my fastest time.

The boy from the top bunk and I stood before the dresser. I pulled open a drawer. I pulled out my wallet and something like a wadded up sock and a skinny, tall comb.

I regretted that the boy saw me take my stuff out of the drawe. I didn't like people to know where I put my belongings. But I also didn't want people to know that. I wasn't suspicious of anybody. I didn't want them to think I was. But I just had a fear of people knowing where I put my belongings.