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Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was with a big group of people. We were in an area that looked like the large reading room of the New York Public Library. But it was also something like a high school gymnasium. The group I was with was probably a church group, though it may have been part of a church-school.

I was up on a balcony level, crouched down or sitting down near the floor. There were a few other people up here with me, including a teacher, who sat behind me.

We looked down on the main area, where a lot of other people were. That area may have been floored with brownish gym mats. There may have been an occasional school desk. There were a decent amount of students down there. Everything felt kind of cluttered.

We had all been given a lesson by somebody who was probably speaking into a microphone from some pulpit at the other end of the room from those of us on the balcony. It was some lesson about Christian history.

We now had to do an in-class exercise based on the lesson. The exercise was some kind of role-playing game. I think we all had to imagine ourselves as some saint, who had been the subject of the lesson. We then had to imagine ourselves into the environment of the saint.

A classmate of mine, a boy maybe eleven or twelve years old, wanted me to come with him on the role-playing game. I was probably going to go along with him.

But my teacher, a pretty, blonde woman, yanked me back from the boy. She told me the boy was distracting me. The teacher told me I was going to come with her.

I looked behind the teacher to the area I knew we were going to: some kind of stage-like area on the left wall of the room, where there were other kids sat out on the floor with papers, studying or doing their lesson exercise.

I was now in some kind of hallway-like space with my teacher. The hallway was like an old, narrow, seldom-visited corridor in a natural history museum.

We sat on the floor -- actually, I think my teacher was laying on her stomach. My teacher had a book, some kind of history of poetry. She may have read some of it to me. She may then have asked me either to read some to her, or to give her a reaction to what she'd read. She handed me the book.

I could see that the text was about the seventeenth century British poet Abraham Cowley. But the pages looked like they were from some kind of illustrated Bible for kids. There was a drawing, almost coloring-book-style, of biblical mountains running across the top half of one set of pages.

I told my teacher a little bit of my own thoughts about Abraham Cowley. I liked him, and I thought it was unfair that he'd fallen into obscurity.

I then read the bottom lines of the left-hand page of the book. It mentioned how somebody in the eighteenth century had "single-handedly" rescued Cowley from oblivion. It took me a long time to read this. But I finally got the idea that the person referenced was Samuel Johnson.

My teacher was now slightly around the corner from me, and up on a very small platform, elevated about 20cm above the floor. I lay on my stomach and stared at a beautiful, Gothic-style, wood wall as I gave my teacher some of my own thoughts on Cowley.

It was hard for me to speak -- my brain was really groggy. But I said, "Well, you know, now that Cowley's rescued from oblivion, everybody thinks he's just great. But I don't think he's free from faults. I love his Mistress poem cycle. But his Odes are kind of flat, in my opinion."

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

It was night. I was riding in a car with a group of people. I sat in the backseat, on the passenger side. We were driving through a neighborhood full of buildings that looked kind of like houses, but were more like apartments. They were thin and tall, with three or four floors. Each floor was like its own apartment.

We drove past blocks and blocks of these houses. We were also driving really fast, passing all the houses at an incredible rate. We went up and down hills. Some of the hills we passed over seemed to have these house-like apartments set into them.

As we passed the side of one of these buildings, a woman, either in my head or in the car, told some weird story about how she'd accidentally dialed 911 on her phone and then left the phone alone. The girl was some kind of hot girl, and she lived with a couple other hot girls.

Apparently all the girls thought they were going to get in trouble. But they also thought the whole thing had been some kind of prank that another girl had played on them.

We now blasted through a neighborhood full of these houses. But as we did, we seemed to lift up onto a ramp. It lifted us over what looked like two or three different levels of these blocks of tall, thin house-apartments.

As we drove along, the levels of housing blocks began to appear more like floors in a gigantic shopping mall. It was like we were driving along a balcony walkway in the mall, one that took us across the center of the open space made by the balconies projecting out from the walls.

I saw all of this as if I were positioned backward in the car. But soon it was like I was in the front of the front seat, looking back beyond the people in the front and back seats. Then it was like the car we'd been in was gone. The people who'd been in the car were probably also gone now.

I could see all the way down to the first floor of the mall. I saw that the mall's floorplan was built with a circle at its center. From this circle, the mall branched off into four separate shopping areas. They must have been corridors full of stores. But all I could see was that the areas each began with one huge store.

The back section, which was, apparently, where we'd come from, was green. The sections to the left and right were blue and yellow -- maybe yellow on my right and blue on my left. I'm not sure. And I don't know what the color of the front section was.

I was now up on some high floor in the mall, probably standing out at the top of the escalators and in front of a map and information sign.

A man or woman stood with me. He or she was tall with grey hair. He or she seemed kind of intelligent, probably liberal.

The person asked me something like would I like him or her to take me around the mall. I said no. I didn't have much time to spend in the mall, anyway, and I already had a plan for how I was going to do it.

I said that I had come from the green area. I knew that each section of the mall was humongous, enough for one day's worth of exploration. I said I was going to head back to the green area and spend a little time there. Then I'd look for the exit and, apparently, find the car I'd driven here in the parking lot.

The person may possibly have said that was fine. The person was now gone.

I turned around and walked toward the front area. I walked into some big, dim room. The room was empty, and it was barely lit with an almost amber-colored light. It was shaped kind of like a wide, shallow seashell. The walls were a dark, polished, black material.

There were quite a few people in the room. But we were all quiet and calm. An Asian woman's voice came on over some speakers. The woman began informing us that everything was about to begin.

Apparently we all, even I, knew what to do. We walked to the edge of the room, where the carpet stepped up toward the wall, forming something like a kneeling area, like for communion at church. We all knelt down.

The woman told us something about breathing in a substance which would cause hallucinations. The hallucinations weren't caused, the woman said, by the chemical. Rather, the chemicals we'd breathe in would trigger the chemical "mercaptan" (???) in our brains. This would create hallucinations.

As we breathed in the substance we would have to think of some famous person we wanted to see. We would hallucinate that person, but the person would also do something like materialize, be real.

We all now put plastic bags over our mouths and, probably, noses. The bags were weaker than grocery bags. But they were all about half-inflated with something. Even when the air inside the bag was breathed in, the bag remained half-inflated. I tried to figure out how it worked. But I couldn't.

I breathed the air in. I could smell a trace of something, which I assumed was the drug. The famous person I wanted to see was the 17th century English poet Abraham Cowley. So I focused on him.

At some point the back wall had disappeared, revealing another room like the room I was in. The room was completely empty.

But I wasn't having any hallucinations about Abraham Cowley. I figured this whole thing probably didn't work after all, anyway. I pulled the bag down from my face.

I know got a bit of a heavy bump from someone on my right side. I looked over -- it was now like I was sitting on a stool at a bar. All the people were sitting at the bar. And the wall seemed to be back.

The person to my right was standing. It was the person who had been standing with me near the information map. I now knew that this person was a man. But he was now done up completely like a woman. The reason he'd left before was so he could get all done up.

He didn't look bad. He was probably in his fifties, and he dressed like a liberal woman in her fifties. He wore jeans and a black, ribbed, turtleneck sweater. He had his short, grey hair done in a feminine fashion. He wore a lot of foundation makeup, which I thought was weird. But he didn't look bad.

Still, I was kind of embarrassed that the guy had come to hang out with me. I wondered if, wherever we went in the mall, the people around us would think I was going out on a date with this guy. I didn't want anybody to think that.

(Shallow...)

The person spoke about something in a relaxed but kind of loud voice. As the person spoke I felt a bit more relaxed. It seemed like if we just spoke about things that didn't have to do with sexuality, I wouldn't have to worry about what people would think of me for walking around with the person.