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    1. giant art; art cartel; reading stairway

      by , 02-14-2012 at 12:59 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in a museum with enormous rooms. The paintings were also enormous. The walls of the rooms may have been twenty or so meters tall. The paintings were just as tall.

      I may have been with a group of people, possibly a school group. But I had broken off from them for some reason or another, and I was now walking around by myself.

      But I was afraid to go into any of the rooms very far. The paintings on the walls were so gigantic. I was afraid they'd fall on me and smash me. So I could barely go beyond the threshold into rooms.

      One room was kind of dimly lit, like from a dirty set of windows in the ceiling. I saw a pair of paintings in the room. The paintings were, I told myself, either by Goya or El Greco.

      The paintings had the same subject: a young man in rich attire, something like pink, satin pants and a white shirt. The paintings stood opposite each other in a kind of side niche in the room. I wanted to examine the paintings closer, but I was too afraid of them falling on me.

      I left this room -- I think -- and went into another room. The paintings were also huge in this room. But I may have been getting braver about being around the paintings, and I may have stepped quite a few meters into the room.

      But now I looked up and saw that there were also paintings in the ceiling, the rest of the ceiling being made out of thick, ornate wood, like in the Rose Reading Room of the New York Public Library. I was now afraid of the ceiling paintings falling on me. They seemed like they'd be heavier than the wall paintings.

      Dream #2

      It was a greyish day. I was either treading water in a river, moving backwards slowly in a small boat, like a rowboat, in a river, or standing on a walkway through or at the edge of a river.

      I may at first have been with a group of older, well-off people, like a tour group. But I'd broken away from the group a bit. The group were all walking along the walkway.

      The river was wide, and at the other end of it was a big, kind of square, building. The building faced the river directly, starkly: it may even have been a bit cantilevered over the river.

      The building was made of some kind of white stone, but the front of it, or the side facing the river, was of slightly tinted glass. This windowed section curved around the sides of the building as well, giving the white stone of the building a kind of backwards "C" shape.

      I knew that the building was an art museum. It was the Art Museum of Mexico or the Mexico Museum of Art. It was a very good and nice museum. But it was also used -- especially the enormous room overlooking the river -- by drug cartels for arranging certain deals.

      People liked to visit the museum. But people who went there were always afraid. You always had to be careful not to hear things, or at least not to act like you heard things. And you couldn't offend any person in any way. If you offended someone or acted like you'd overheard some drug deal being arranged, you could be killed.

      But for some reason I was feeling defiant. I was going to go into the museum and I wasn't going to act afraid at all. Besides, it was the Mexico Museum of Art. It was full of great works of art. I'd be really disappointed in myself if I didn't see the art works there.

      Dream #3

      I was in some building. I was near a staircase. Apparently I'd always come here to this place to read. Other people did, too. But I'd come to have a favorite spot for reading on the staircase. And I'd read there all the time.

      There were some guys who'd decided to follow me around. They thought I was really smart. They were jealous of me. They wanted to figure out everything I was doing and studying. They thought if they read everything I read, they could get smarter than they thought I was.

      One of these guys was an old, kind of tall, white man with a big belly. He wore nice slacks and a nice button-up shirt. He saw I was heading toward the staircase to read. So he either took the place I always took or took a place a few steps higher than my place. Wherever he sat, his plan was to look down at what I was doing, so he could do it, too, and hopefully beat me at it.

      I tried to figure out what to do. I didn't really care if people knew what I was doing. I tried to be open about that. But I felt annoyed. I may have thought I'd hide whatever I was doing, just to annoy the man back a little. Or I may have thought I'd just act unperturbed, like the man didn't bother me, or didn't exist at all.
    2. 11/12/2010 - "Gold Rush"

      by , 11-12-2010 at 02:40 PM (Oneironaut Zero: Dreamwalker Chronicles)
      11/12/2010
      "Gold Rush"


      I was working back at the insurance company, where I'd used to work, a few years ago. At first, it just seemed to be regular office life. There was a lot of conversation that went on, but I don't remember much of it. I do remember being hit on by an attractive, slightly older woman, and just kind of smiling it off. Come to find out, instead of being just an insurance company, we were also, apparently, a mint. There was a goldsmith there, who kind of reminded me of the Haitian, from Heroes, and he was more or less "making" this gold, by weaving a bunch of metals together, into long, golden ropes, and then would break down the compound and press coins out of them. We were printing so many, that I almost couldn't fathom not being able to keep one or two for myself. I mean, it was like an endless supply of gold, here. Surely they wouldn't miss one or two coins.

      At first, I tried to ask KE, my old boss. She adamantly refused. Keeping a playful tone, I jabbed at her a few times, to see if she would give in. I said that we could just "pretend they fell off the delivery truck," and she refused again. I could tell that she was getting kind of annoyed, so I let it be and started walking back to my desk. On the way over, I passed the smithy. There was a large pile of coins just sitting there in front of me. By this time, I was determined. I glanced around real quick and swiped two coins, putting them in my pocket. I was curious to how much they would be worth, but really, I was more interested in just having the coins than cashing them in. (Heard a commercial on the radio, the other day, about the rarity of gold coins, and how the government is putting some back into circulation. Probably what sparked the gold coins, in this dream.)

      Well, as it turns out, these coins were being forged for some kind of foreign cartel, and they were not happy, to find out that some of their shipment was missing. After I had gotten off from work, I'd gotten word that the cartel had come into the office, realized there were coins missing, shot the smithy (and my boss, I think. Not sure), and was on a manhunt for whoever might have taken them. Most of us had been hanging out at a pool or spring or something, when we got the news. Word was that the cartel knew where we were, and was on their way to see us. Immediately, I knew that I had to get out of there. After having made them come searching for me, I was convinced that they would shoot me on site, whether I gave them the coins back or not. Quickly, I got out of the water, and started heading away from the rest of the group.

      I hadn't gotten completely free yet, though. There was a sequence here, when the cartel first showed up, and we were all running and hiding for our lives. I don't remember much of it at all. My recall skips ahead, to where a friend and I had broken away from the fray, and made it out of the area, to where we'd begun to think we were in the clear. (Don't remember who the friend was, though.) I still hadn't confessed to keeping the coins. It probably wasn't the wisest idea, but I was going to try to get out of this, without having to. We walked down a dirt road, surrounded by brush - heading somewhere I can't remember - when the cartel's Jeep turned onto the trail, behind us. When they saw us, the sped toward us, AK-47s waving in the air. We broke into frantic dashes in the opposite direction, the Jeep closing in. I tried to trail off, into the brush on the side of the road, but I knew that there was a man now right behind me, on foot, drawing down on me. I could practically feel how close he was. Knowing that attempting to crawl over the next ridge would have been futile, I rolled over on the embankment, onto my back, and stared up at the man with the huge silver handgun. He was only seconds away from squeezing the trigger. I could sense it. I knew I was about to die.

      Suddenly, just as a stoic panic set in, I realized that this couldn't be happening! I was dreaming! The realization just suddenly slapped me in the face, brushing away all fear. With an evil grin, I stood up on the embankment, and started walking slowly toward the guy with the gun. He didn't know what to think. At first, he backed up a few feet, still aiming the gun in my direction. I knew he was going to shoot, so I braced for it - unafraid, because I knew his bullets would do nothing to me. He fired off a few rounds at me while walking backward in retreat. I didn't even feel the bullets at all (which is rare, even while lucid), and I just continued walking toward him. Finally, I got within arms reach and raised one arm, grabbing the barrel of his gun and crushing it like putty, in my grip. The fear in the man's eyes grew as he, no doubt, knew what was now in store for him...

      Unfortunately, I don't remember anything after this point.

      Updated 11-12-2010 at 02:51 PM by 2450

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