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Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was somewhere with a boss I worked for IWL until 2009. He might have been talking to me about coming back to work for him.

I was then in another room, maybe the next room over from where I was with my old boss. The room was kind of unfinished. The floors may have been grey concrete. The walls may have been bare drywall.

There was a beautiful woman, maybe in her late twenties, off to my left. She may have been leaning her back against a wall. Off to her right there was a window.

The woman may have been considering whether to give me a job. As part of showing the woman my qualifications, I was lifting a piece of drywall onto the wall in front of me. I was setting it into a framing of widely-spaced brackets. The brackets were like copper-colored nails with their ends bent up at 90-degree angles.

I wasn't actually, for myself, completing this task in order to get the job, even though I knew the woman was trying to determine whether she wanted me for the job. And I didn't want my old boss to think that I was going for this job. If he did think that, I believed, he'd start messing around and playing mind games with me.

I suddenly noticed, as I lifted the sheet of drywall, that I was naked. My penis was erect, and it must have been touching against the drywall, which hurt.

Now, instead of lifting a piece of drywall into the frame, I was lifting a white, drywall-sized towel into the frame. The towel was soaking wet. I wasn't sure how I was going to be able to get this towel into the frame. It was supposed to go into the frame just like the drywall would.

I spent a while justifying the possibility of a limp, wet towel doing something like this. Eventually I could even see the limp wet towel in my mind's eye, acting just like a hard sheet of drywall.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was somewhere outside, standing before a small building like a cottage. I stood before the door, which split in half so it could open on the top and stay closed on the bottom. I probably leaned on a counter-like ledge topping the bottom half of the door.

Inside were my family members and a guy I know from a cafe I go to. The interior of the cottage felt very plain and empty, almost as if it were a children's play-cottage with no decorations in it.

I was talking to the guy about stocks. Apparently the guy had been talking about some Chinese stock that was really great. He was even thinking of buying it.

There may have been a business man somewhere in the cottage. I may have been trying to impress the business man by showing how much I understood the guy. I asked the guy, "What's keeping you from buying the stock? Or..."

Here I seemed to start having trouble getting words into my head as I spoke. "Rather... what is it that is keeping your... joy... about this... company... from becoming 100%... unmitigated?"

The guy then began talking to me about stuff like Chinese economic policy, which I didn't understand. The guy made reference to a few key people in China. I now saw them on a TV screen.

The guy continued to talk to me, but we were now both on a bed outside the cottage. The guy sat on the left edge of the bed, watching a TV in an entertainment center that stood against the cottage wall. I was crouched up in a weird position, like a little kid, behind the guy.

The Chinese political figures were still on the TV. The guy had explained a lot to me. Now he said some quote that apparently some famous investor had made, like, "Why invest in the country's companies, when you can just invest in their currency?"

I thought the guy meant he was going to invest in Chinese currency instead of the company he'd mentioned. But now he mentioned a completely different company he was going to invest in.

The business man now sat on the bed. The guy was now my little brother. But it was like my brother wasn't there. My mom was somewhere around. The business man had been impressed by everything my brother had said.

The business man told my mom, "We need to hire someone new for our firm. We need somebody intelligent, somebody who can give our firm some direction.

"And we're open for all different kinds of people. Duncan Jansen (???) was our CEO." (I knew that Duncan Jansen was a black man.) "We need people who are willing to work, and can have good, new ideas."

I assumed that the man meant, by what he had just said, that my little brother was a good worker, while I was not. I sat up from the bed. I was a little groggy-eyed, as if I'd just woken up from sleep.

I knew I had some sort of data project I had to take care of. I hoped that if I just went and took care of my project, the business man would see that I, too, could work hard.

My office was apparently down a flagstone path, past a few other cottages with fenced yards. After a few cottages, I "knew," I'd turn right.

But as I started going down the flagstone path, the business man mentioned some propecy he'd read, which he now thought was related to my brother. The business man mentioned something about a heavenly choir singing at the announcement of this prophecy.

At the same time, a singing group, which I may have organized, was getting ready for their daily practice. I thought to myself that I might mention to the man that I considered holding singing practice every day to be of great importance.

The group sang a song that had the words "Angels and spirits sing on high." This line kept repeating. It was more like a chant than a song. But it sounded beautiful.

On either side of the flagstone path was lawn, in which were random, wild beds of irises. But the blossoms of most of the irises were way past their prime. Purple and white petals, in different stages of browning, barely clung to the stems.

Dream #2

I saw from the viewpoint of a spaceship in outer space. The spaceship was, apparently, approaching the planet Venus. The planet, though, looked silvery, almost cloud-grey, from our approach.

We seemed to be very close to Venus at first. The upper left quadrant (?) of the sphere had taken up almost all my view. But then we were a ways back, far enough back to see the whole planet and a good deal of the surrounding space quite easily.

At some point the beautiful voice of a woman asked us, in a very professional, almost computerized voice who we were and what our business was.

A man on board the ship may have mentioned that the planet Venus required permission before allowing people to land on her. Suddenly I realized that the voice I'd heard hadn't been from a person on Venus -- it had been the voice of the planet herself!

A spherical shield like glittering gold dust went up around the planet. I knew that this shield could keep anybody off the planet.

The man must have begun interacting with Venus again. This time, though, as Venus spoke, she turned different colors. It was like her surface was banded, like Saturn's surface, but with neon orange, green, and pink. And these bands would shift up and down, like computer lights, as Venus spoke.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was standing in some place like an art museum. I stood at the edge of two rooms, like I was in a third room or a hallway. The two rooms were separated from each other by a small divider. Both of the rooms were pretty wide and airy. But the walls seem to have been spattered with paint, mostly red, with highlights of yellow.

In the room on my right, hanging right next to the dividing wall, was a long, hanging-scroll type of artwork. I may have thought of it as a Japanese painting. But may have been more like an embroidery, with a lot of gold thread. It showed Buddha on the top of a mountain, meditating.

A little, Asian boy ran up to the artwork and began pushing at it. He was pushing at it so hard that the fabric was stretching, becoming gauze-like, semi-transparent. I was panicked that the boy was going to tear the artwork. But I didn't want to say anything to him.

I now noticed that the artwork hung by something like a paper towel roll, through which ran a little rod like a metal clothes hanger. As the boy was pushing, the paper towel roll kept coming more and more off the rod. I knew the artwork would crumple to the ground.

I still felt shy about talking to the boy. But I went and found an older Asian man, who I figured must have been the boy's father. The man was skinny, with coppery skin, a receding hairline, and a slim, square cut of dark, black hair.

The man seemed to have a little trouble understanding English. But once he understood what I was saying, he went after the boy. By this time the artwork had probably been pushed to the ground. There seemed to be smoke, more like the sweetish-smelling stage smoke, all over the place. I seemed to be standing behind waist-high stacks of boxes.

The man and I now stood in another room, which was like the frame of a burnt-out house. There was smoke or steam everywhere around us. But we may basically have been outside, on a kind of yellowy-pale day.

The woman was upset, possibly because the artwork had been ruined. She was telling me and the man that she would be fine.

I now saw from the woman's viewpoint. I told the man (and somebody else?) that I was going to go home and shoot myself in the heart.

Dream #2

I was in a living room with my old friend R. I sat on the floor. R sat either on the floor or on the couch. The room was kind of dim, and there was stuff, including blankets, cluttered all around us.

I had a huge cookie before me. It was maybe 75cm in diameter. It was white, and it may have had something in it, like walnuts or pecans.

R encouraged me to eat the cookie. He seemed to think I was being a bit too shy about it. So I took a piece off the edge of the cookie and ate it.

R now revealed that he had a huge, brown cookie with stuff in it like chocolate chips, but not quite. R had to unwrap his cookie from a clear cellophane wrapper. He began eating his cookie and bragging about how good it was. Something about this was supposed to make me feel bad, like he'd "tricked" me into eating my own cookie while he got to eat his cookie, which was better than mine.

I decided I'd test out R's cookie, so I grabbed a chunk of it and ate it. R looked at me like he wanted to kill me.

Dream #3

It was night. I was in the back of the car with a guy. I sat on the left side. The guy sat on the right.

The guy was kind of tall, heavy, with a rounding jaw and squarish head. He had a short, square haircut with red-brown hair. He wore a black leather jacket. When he spoke, the guy had an accent that sounded Russian to me.

The guy talked about the Federico Fellini movie La Strada. He mentioned a group of people who were in the movie, but more in a sense like the movie was a real-life environment, of which they were a part. They had come into this place as spies. They may have been from the FBI.

The guy said these FBI spies had had such a great time in La Strada. "If they were having such a good time there, why did they go back to America? Why didn't they stay?"

Something about what the guy said didn't make sense to me. It may have been that I'd thought that of course the guys would want to go home: they'd only been here to spy.

We drove past some building like an auto repair garage. The garage door was all clear plexiglass, and the lights were on in the garage. But a couple of guys were pasting a humongous map of the United States up against the garage door, to block the view inside.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a "Quentin Tarantino movie." I think it was supposed to be like Inglourious Basterds, like in the final scene between the young man and the young woman in the film booth.

I was some kind of spy. I may have been a man in my forties, with a big, curly moustache. I may have a tiny bit overweight, and I may have been wearing an overcoat and a fedora.

I was sneaking through some building, trying to find and kill some woman, but also trying to escape her so she couldn't kill me. I went through a series of rooms like rooms in a mansion, even though this building was a multi-floor building, like some kind of museum.

I eventually found the woman working in a room like a film booth. The woman had her back turned to me. I may have been supposed to kill her. But I suddenly realized that I had to get out of here before she noticed me and started chasing me, to kill me.

I knew that there really wasn't any way out of this building, or at least no secret way that the woman wouldn't be able to get to long before I did. But I still went running away through the building, not looking for a way out, necessarily, but at least looking for a way to put distance between me and the woman.

But, for some reason, I almost purposely walked myself into a series of rooms that weren't just a dead end, but were a very short series of dead ends. I walked through one bedroom-like area, well-lit with natural light, then down a case of red-carpeted stairs. I ended up in a very small bathroom.

The bathroom barely had enough space for me to turn around in. The light was dim and incandescent, and most of the room seemed to be coated in yellow-beige tiles that faded into a dark brown at their edges. There was also a turquoise-colored towel.

I knew I had absolutely walked myself directly into a dead end. I knew the woman would catch up to me any time now. Yet I thought I would hide in the bathroom forever, or until the woman had gotten past me.

I knew that wouldn't work, though, and that the woman could easily find me. I just decided to leave the bathroom and face the woman.

I walked out of the bathroom. About halfway up the steps I noticed that the woman was standing over the top of the steps, off to their side, leaning over a waist-high railing bordering the staircase.

The woman looked young, maybe in her early twenties. She was pale skinned, with an oval-shaped, soft face. She had light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, pale blue eyes, and eyeglasses. She wore a green sweater and blue jeans. She actually seemed kind of nice and nerdy. But she was levelling a pistol at me.

At first, out of fear from having the gun pointing straight at me, I backed down a couple steps, like I was going back to the bathroom. But I realized that everything was over for me, and that I should at least be brave enough to face my fate. So I started walking back up the steps.

The woman seemed ready to shoot me. She didn't really want to wait until I got up the steps. She said, "Where do you want it? In the stomach?" She pointed the gun toward me stomach. "Or in the chest?" She pointed the gun toward my chest.

For some reason I "kind of" thought about my back, and how I thought the most efficiently killing shot would be one that went through "my back." But I couldn't quite get the concept of "my back" through my head. But I did think that my chest was close enough to "my back" to give me a pretty efficient death.

I told the woman to go ahead and shoot me in the chest. So she levelled the gun at my chest. I spread my chest out, so I could take the shot bravely, hopefully without flinching.

The woman shot me. I flew up into the air. I may have been falling down the stairs. But it really felt like I was just floating in the air, in a kind of "laying on my back" position, except with my head and maybe my legs bowed down a little bit, so I wasn't completely flat.

The woman said, "Well, that's all over, then. Thanks for being so cooperative about letting me get this over with!" She cheerfully walked toward the exit of the room.

I replied, "Oh, no problem. Thanks for being so nice and giving me a choice of where I could be shot."

Dream #2

I was standing in a hallway of a house. The house was kind of short, just a little alcove really, between a few rooms and the living room. The hallway was lit with incandescent light. To my right was the living room. The living room wasn't lit at all.

I was examining some papers in my hands when I heard some weird noises. It was like jangling glass and metal, like people were shuffling some stuff around or breaking stuff. But it sounded a little bit far away, like maybe one or two rooms separated from the living room.

I wondered if someone was breaking into this house. I was kind of afraid to go check, even though I knew I'd probably have to.

But then I looked out into the living room, to a computer out on a desk. The computer was playing some kind of show or visual program. It looked like a bunch of papers shuffling around on some kind of classical desk.

I could now tell that the sounds were coming from the computer. It seemed kind of weird to me that the visual program of papers shuffling on a desk would be accompanied by the sound of glass breaking and metal bars jangling and shuffling around.

But I think I figured that if I got closer to the computer, to see what the visual program was really all about, it would probably all make a lot more sense to me.

Dream #3

I sat in something like a conference room, at the right side a long, oval or rectangular table. I sat positioned directly across the table from the door into the conference room. To my left sat a woman who kind of looked like Camille Paglia, except taller and heavier.

The woman's hair was in a really bad fashion, about six inches long, but feathered all around her head like a bowl. She was probably wearing a terrible outfit -- some kind of circus-peanuts-orange blouse, a silver pendant with a black stone in the middle of it, and some kind of chunky, tweed skirt.

I had at least one notebook and a bunch of papers. I was sharing ideas about companies with the woman. I don't think the woman worked with corporations. But I think she worked a lot with ideas in general. So I wanted to throw my ideas about companies out to her as being just about ideas in general.

Suddenly a tall, overweight, pale, bald businessman came walking into the room. He was apparently my boss -- even though I didn't have a job anymore. The woman left for some reason or another. The man eyed the woman and me with jealousy.

I felt like I shouldn't have been sharing my ideas with this woman. Instead, I should have been sharing them with my boss (or ex-boss). I got all sheepish, panicky, and stuttery. I stood out of my chair and pulled up one of my notebooks.

I told my (ex-)boss, "Y--y--you see, I was just talking to her about Lockheed Martin. You see, I've pulled some ideas together about the company." (I may have said "LMT," and not "Lockheed Martin.")

When I mentioned Lockheed Martin, the man made a kind of impressed, humming-grunting sound. Encouraged, I went on. I flipped through a few pages in my notebook, explaining some stuff about Lockheed Martin that I don't remember at all anymore.

Most of the pages were written in black ink. But I got to one page where I'd written on three themes regarding "LMT." Each theme was written in a different color. There was a red section, then a blue section, then a green section.

Each section was separated from the next by a line, which may have had the title for the next section or theme. This line may have always been written in red ink.

Date: 05-14-11
Length: 5 Minutes
Vividness: 4/10

I was on a bus with a couple people, I'm not sure who. It was night time and we were driving along the highway. I saw a guy driving on a motorcycle next to us and I think that Dakota got to get on the back. I was really jealous because I wanted to get on the motorcycle too. Suddenly it was like I was in third-person view. The highway was on a huge cliff with no barriers to protect you from falling. We stopped at this one place and Sean was there. We were sitting down and someone almost fell off the cliff.

-frenchblablabla

WAKING LIFE DREAMING LUCID
BOLD IF IT FEELS PARTICULARLY SIGNIFICANT

FFEDCIDD Practice
FFEDCIDD = Face, Feel, Expand, Dissipate, Coalesce, Integrate, Decide, Do

Jealousy roaring up. Expanded about a foot from my body. specks of contained heat (but not touchable?) It was like an insulation, a bit spongy. Jealousy felt bizarre - that might have been the first time I’ve really let myself feel it. I have memories of stuffing it down because it was unattractive.

A loose approximation
(more like just a pretty thing that had similar colors)
by fleicap

Under it a sadness centered in my gut, heart, and throat. The sadness (or maybe my mental reflections on it) brought me to memories of soothing myself as a child by crying into a mirror alone. I feel a lot of resistance to posting that little intimate detail, so maybe forcing myself is the way to go. Gah, I’m not always this serious, an insecure voice inside me is sharply whining and pushing.

WAKING LIFE DREAMING LUCID
BOLD IF IT FEELS PARTICULARLY SIGNIFICANT

Slipping a Picture Out

A younger man and a man who seemed to be something like his mentor. Doing some organizing or redecorating of some sort. Cleaning? Inside an old, historic feeling building. Many large windows around one end.

The younger man (was it me? I seemed to switch back and forth from third person to somewhat identified with him) had accomplished something, some landmark. He seemed like a learned novice. He had a picture of himself to mark the occasion.

The older man took a frame off the wall. The frame and its anchoring to the wall was complex, attached to a simple wood rod decoration with a few soft undulances and shallow, smooth, symmetrical crevices. It was dusty. Some old, shriveled cobwebs huddled against it. The frame somehow slid onto this bar to connect to the wall. He told the younger man that he was going to replace the older picture of another of his (students?) with this one. The younger man felt uncomfortable with this, knew it would upset the person who was being replaced. The older man didn’t open the frame, just slowly slipped the other picture out of the bottom, surprising the young man, who was me, and then slid the new picture in.

The new picture looked casual and somewhat professional, but not strong, solid, and fitting like the old picture. It looked too new, too much of a body shot, too bright, not authentic and serious and traditional enough, with muted colors, like the picture that used to be there. But it did look happier and younger.

The man whose picture had been replaced came over from the dim back of the building, which felt like an old bar. He was somewhat angry and jealous, disappointed, about his picture being removed. He didn’t feel positively toward the young man.

This weekend I went to visit a friend in Ohio and last night I had this dream:

I was in my friend's apartment, in Ohio, looking out the window. I saw the person I drove down here standing by her car having a cigarette. I thought this was odd because I didn't think she was a smoker. I went down the stairs and outside to talk to her and she threw away the cigarette quickly and acted nonchalant, like she was afraid of being caught. I went along with it and said nothing.

We went shopping and I remember looking at some watches and admiring them. I didn't have any money so I didn't buy anything. I followed my friend around and watched her shop and she bought many things. When we left the store and returned to the car my friend was telling me all about the great stuff she bought and I remember feeling a little jealous.

When we returned to the apartment she handed me a silver and gold metal wristwatch and asked me if I liked it. It was really big and shiny and I said that I did like it. She then said "Good. Because it's for you."

I was really happy that my friend gave me a nice watch but I do not have any recollection of the rest of the dream.

Crap. Forgot to post this yesterday. Whoopsies.
Well, I was in a different school. And I think it was a little long but I forgot most of it.

So I was going to some class w/ red walls, and all the seats are taken up. I see an empty seat that is in between two seats, but it's right next to my crush, and I'm took chicken to do it willingly. I think "Nah I'll just have a teacher to blame it on". So I go up to the teacher and say "I don't have a seat" and she puts me right next to my crush. I'm still totally embarrassed because of how close we were (it was pretty darn close) And then the class ends.

Then, we're in the gym (On Monday, the last day we had school before it snowed, we had an assembly in the gym) and my crush is sitting a few seats below me. Then, this girl in my class comes up the stairs, and kisses him on the cheek, like she was thanking him for something. I think "WTF?! I SHOULD'VE DONE THAT!!" and I get really pissed and jealous, then the dream ends.