(Entered in paper journal around 6:30 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was in an apartment. It was night and dark. My mom had just left. She may have warned me about some person coming into the house. She might also have gone looking for that person, to stop him from threatening us.
A person unlocked the door and walked in, keeping his (?) back to me (and possibly to my brother or sister, who may also have been in the apartment). The man was really tall at first. But by the time I got to him he was less than waist-height, and he was carrying an umbrella. He looked like the old scientist character in the Satoshi Kon film Paprika.
A voice said, "It's Cecil. You've been had."
I fought in a weird way with the little man. The little man tried to grab me around the waist, mid-way between my hips and the bottom of my rib cage. I kept pushing the little man off by linking my pinkies with his and pushing him away.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
(6/23/07) the giant fly; what i never saw; two girls in one; lucid in reality
(Entered on Q-train, but don't know when.)
Dream #1
I lay in bed. I opened my eyes and looked at the wall (to my left). An insect, a small roach, I thought, climbed quickly down the wall. I was disappointed to have a roach in my house. I thought I would get up and kill it. But now I saw two on the wall. I thought I might be seeing things.
I closed my eyes and opened them again. There were lots of insects (flies?) climbing all over my wall. I leaped out of bed, possibly in a straight-bodied roll parallel to the floor and landing in a crouch facing the wall. The wall was full of insects. I wondered what I could do to get rid of the insects. I thought I might have to call an exterminator and leave my house for a little while.
Down on the lower, right section of the wall, or perhaps on the "left foot" corner of my bed, was a fly about the size of my fist. It seemed to call for me, and to control all the other insects so that they, too, would call me. I was afraid, but I got closer. The giant fly made a semi-melodic, buzzing sound, almost like wings beating against a champagne flute. The fly's body was spiny and shine, an orange-green, reflective color. It had orangish wings.
Dream #2
I walked into a nice, big dining room. There might not have been any table. The room was narrow and long. The walls were wood. Some dim, warm daylight came through a yellowish curtain at the other short end of the room. The door I walked in through was at the lower part of the right long wall. A little farther up that wall stood my co-worker and good friend CL. Between us was a chest of drawers.
I walked in and immediately turned to face the chest. CL asked me if I had brought XXXXX (can't remember). I had some green, fleshy-looking sack in my hands. I cut it open and pulled out a "flying saucer." This was something like a silver table ornament or serving tray. It looked like a cake tray with no glass top and with ridges or slots all through it. I put it on the chest.
I thought CL might be trying to hide this object from others, as part of an overall conspiracy. I thought CL might be trying to convince me as well that I hadn't seen the flying saucer. CL very harshly asked me a question insinuating that I had already told my co-worker JB about the flying saucer. I became tense and slightly afraid.
Dream #3
I sat in the front row at some show. The seating was all rows of folding chairs. The floor was white tile. The lights were brightish orange and fluorescent. The place was full of people. The "stage" was level with the floor. On the back wall (a back wall) was a screen against which was projected a karaoke video.
A song started up. The girl to my left, who looked like my co-worker and fellow-Assistant FA, said, "Oh, you should sing this one! You love these guys!" It took me a second before I recognized the song as a Smashing Pumpkins song.
But I couldn't "catch" the words fast enough to begin singing with the music. Plus, the words on the screen weren't the same as the words to the song. And the video would occasionally fade in and out unexpectedly. I told the girl that I did love this song, but that I didn't know it well enough to keep up.
I began cuddling with the girl. She had nice, dark skin. She wasn't thin, but she had the prettiness of a thin girl.
I was disappointed in myself for being so boring that I couldn't sing a song.
I now sat laying across the girl's chest. The girl now looked like one of my good friends, PD. She was still not thin. She wore a pastel turquoise-green, soft-fabric shirt. Below the collar, squared holes were cut out to look like an Egyptian necklace. The fabric between the holes was also strung in a way to look and feel like beads.
I ran my left finger along this "necklace" collar-piece. I also touched some jewelry on the girl's right upper arm. I felt like a child. I hoped this wouldn't turn the girl off and that we could still have sex. The girl said, "I will miss you very much when I am gone."
Dream #4
I woke up from a dream. I stood out of my bed by the foot of the bed and walked to the wall facing the foot of the bed. There was a wooden ladder folded against the wall. I was going to take it away from the wall, but I hung on one of the steps and looked at my wall. There was a yellowish, chipped substance dirtying the wall.
I didn't remember such messiness. At first I thought, Well, maybe I don't look at this wall well enough to have seen this dirty patch. Then I thought, No. This wall is different in another way: it's missing its little framing decorations: it's just completely smooth.
The discrepancy between this wall and my normal perception of my bedroom wall made me wonder where I was. I told myself, I just woke from a dream. I have to be awake. But I was now getting the strange feeling that life was a dream, and that I could wake into lucidity from waking life just as I would wake into lucidity in dreams.
I did something like what a person would do holding his breath and bracing for a plunge into a swimming pool. I thought, This is exactly what people think can't be done. And I'm trying to do it.
I felt the electric buzz (which, as I'd read in the literature, was a precursor, not for lucid dreams, but for out-of-body experiences). But when lucidity came, I realized that this had all been a dream after all. I wasn't "lucid" in (or ex-) reality. I was only lucid in my dream.
I wanted to explore the lucid dream, but I didn't believe I could imagine anything other than what I was presently seeing: the ladder and the wall. So I told myself, You are going to turn around clockwise. As you complete the turn you will wake back into waking life and you will be back in bed.
But even as I "held my breath, braced," and turned, I thought, Why am I doing this? If I'm lucid I should go exploring. But it was like I couldn't control myself, like I was being controlled by another will and now was in a gravitational spin that I couldn't pull out of.
Dream #1
I lay in bed. I opened my eyes and looked at the wall (to my left). An insect, a small roach, I thought, climbed quickly down the wall. I was disappointed to have a roach in my house. I thought I would get up and kill it. But now I saw two on the wall. I thought I might be seeing things.
I closed my eyes and opened them again. There were lots of insects (flies?) climbing all over my wall. I leaped out of bed, possibly in a straight-bodied roll parallel to the floor and landing in a crouch facing the wall. The wall was full of insects. I wondered what I could do to get rid of the insects. I thought I might have to call an exterminator and leave my house for a little while.
Down on the lower, right section of the wall, or perhaps on the "left foot" corner of my bed, was a fly about the size of my fist. It seemed to call for me, and to control all the other insects so that they, too, would call me. I was afraid, but I got closer. The giant fly made a semi-melodic, buzzing sound, almost like wings beating against a champagne flute. The fly's body was spiny and shine, an orange-green, reflective color. It had orangish wings.
Dream #2
I walked into a nice, big dining room. There might not have been any table. The room was narrow and long. The walls were wood. Some dim, warm daylight came through a yellowish curtain at the other short end of the room. The door I walked in through was at the lower part of the right long wall. A little farther up that wall stood my co-worker and good friend CL. Between us was a chest of drawers.
I walked in and immediately turned to face the chest. CL asked me if I had brought XXXXX (can't remember). I had some green, fleshy-looking sack in my hands. I cut it open and pulled out a "flying saucer." This was something like a silver table ornament or serving tray. It looked like a cake tray with no glass top and with ridges or slots all through it. I put it on the chest.
I thought CL might be trying to hide this object from others, as part of an overall conspiracy. I thought CL might be trying to convince me as well that I hadn't seen the flying saucer. CL very harshly asked me a question insinuating that I had already told my co-worker JB about the flying saucer. I became tense and slightly afraid.
Dream #3
I sat in the front row at some show. The seating was all rows of folding chairs. The floor was white tile. The lights were brightish orange and fluorescent. The place was full of people. The "stage" was level with the floor. On the back wall (a back wall) was a screen against which was projected a karaoke video.
A song started up. The girl to my left, who looked like my co-worker and fellow-Assistant FA, said, "Oh, you should sing this one! You love these guys!" It took me a second before I recognized the song as a Smashing Pumpkins song.
But I couldn't "catch" the words fast enough to begin singing with the music. Plus, the words on the screen weren't the same as the words to the song. And the video would occasionally fade in and out unexpectedly. I told the girl that I did love this song, but that I didn't know it well enough to keep up.
I began cuddling with the girl. She had nice, dark skin. She wasn't thin, but she had the prettiness of a thin girl.
I was disappointed in myself for being so boring that I couldn't sing a song.
I now sat laying across the girl's chest. The girl now looked like one of my good friends, PD. She was still not thin. She wore a pastel turquoise-green, soft-fabric shirt. Below the collar, squared holes were cut out to look like an Egyptian necklace. The fabric between the holes was also strung in a way to look and feel like beads.
I ran my left finger along this "necklace" collar-piece. I also touched some jewelry on the girl's right upper arm. I felt like a child. I hoped this wouldn't turn the girl off and that we could still have sex. The girl said, "I will miss you very much when I am gone."
Dream #4
I woke up from a dream. I stood out of my bed by the foot of the bed and walked to the wall facing the foot of the bed. There was a wooden ladder folded against the wall. I was going to take it away from the wall, but I hung on one of the steps and looked at my wall. There was a yellowish, chipped substance dirtying the wall.
I didn't remember such messiness. At first I thought, Well, maybe I don't look at this wall well enough to have seen this dirty patch. Then I thought, No. This wall is different in another way: it's missing its little framing decorations: it's just completely smooth.
The discrepancy between this wall and my normal perception of my bedroom wall made me wonder where I was. I told myself, I just woke from a dream. I have to be awake. But I was now getting the strange feeling that life was a dream, and that I could wake into lucidity from waking life just as I would wake into lucidity in dreams.
I did something like what a person would do holding his breath and bracing for a plunge into a swimming pool. I thought, This is exactly what people think can't be done. And I'm trying to do it.
I felt the electric buzz (which, as I'd read in the literature, was a precursor, not for lucid dreams, but for out-of-body experiences). But when lucidity came, I realized that this had all been a dream after all. I wasn't "lucid" in (or ex-) reality. I was only lucid in my dream.
I wanted to explore the lucid dream, but I didn't believe I could imagine anything other than what I was presently seeing: the ladder and the wall. So I told myself, You are going to turn around clockwise. As you complete the turn you will wake back into waking life and you will be back in bed.
But even as I "held my breath, braced," and turned, I thought, Why am I doing this? If I'm lucid I should go exploring. But it was like I couldn't control myself, like I was being controlled by another will and now was in a gravitational spin that I couldn't pull out of.
NOTEBOOK 12 - 6/29/07 to 9/8/07
I wonder what makes me always feel like going back over my memories and actually realizing that my emotions and psychology had certain time periods is an indicator of what a self-important jerk I am. I think I had that feeling the last time I prefaced one of my notebooks. I'm having it again.
Nothing that has happened in my life is important by any means. But there were different time periods in my life. And I do remember, as I'm going through these notebooks, that these time periods existed.
But it is kind of interesting that as all these non-important events were going on in my life during the writing of this notebook, the sky of the U.S. economy really was beginning to fall, while anybody who said the sky was falling was either called a Dr. Doom or a Chicken Little by all the people around them.
The first big event, as I remember things -- if you don't count the overall careening of the housing market as a big event -- was the collapse of Bear Stearns, which, as I remember things, became big news in August or September of 2007, but which, according to Wikipedia, really began on June 22, 2007.
Now, if I hadn't been so self-centered, I might have been able to see the sky falling. Instead, I remember seeing the Bear Stearns headline in the New York Post as I walked down the street to work. I remember trying really hard to convince myself that whatever it was that was happening to Bear Stearns was meaningless, as far as I was concerned. I had plenty of people to back me up in my beliefs.
So, as this notebook progressed, I personally focused on three events in my life. In the months preceding this notebook, my work as Assistant to my boss EB had been discontinued. My boss EB had been promoted to Analyst of a different industry. He was moved to sit near the people who covered industries similar to the one he was now covering. When I lost my boss EB, I lost my first "kind" mentor.
As this notebook progressed, I was moved into working with a new boss, DO, while continuing to work with my boss BS. I actually gained a lot by working with DO. First of all, I got a third "kind" mentor -- not in DO, who was becoming a huge name and was not around very much, but in his Associate, MW, who, like my co-worker ES, would answer any questions I ever had about the stock market and research in general. Plus, DO ended up being one of those people who were thought of as Chicken Littles at first, but then became known as something of a sage once the market began falling irrevocably.
Not long after the beginning of this notebook, I also started up my relationship with my psychiatrist A. A month or so previously, I'd lost my psychiatrist RB, who'd moved out of state after her husband had gotten a new job. The dream in this notebook where I am writing a "mystical report" with my sister is, I'm pretty sure, the dream I wrote either just before or just after my first session with A.
My relationship with A lasted for a little more than four years, until about November of 2011. I stopped talking with A, then started speaking with her again, from Colorado, in August of 2012. But in early November of 2012, I stopped speaking with her once and for all.
For all the benefits I got intellectually from my relationship with A, I think I should have ended the relationship much sooner. As a friend, A was wonderful. As a teacher, especially as a guide to new Jungian writers, A was wonderful. But as an Analyst, A was not very good -- for me. She even almost admitted it to me on occasion, saying that she was not accustomed, after dealing for so many years with a certain clientele, to dealing with someone who had, and wanted to deal with, actually archetypal problems.
A was, at least to my personal perceptions, afraid of my dreams. And I wanted someone who could analyze my dreams. As I've said before, I eventually got so tired of trying to bring my dreams in to A for serious analysis that I eventually stopped bringing in my dreams altogether. And I think my frustration with my interactions with A eventually led me to have more emotional troubles than emotional healing.
This wasn't because of A's lack of skill, but simply because we weren't a correct pairing for therapy. I knew it, and A told me something to that effect. But neither I nor A really wanted to call it quits on our relationship, for one reason or another.
The time period of this book also marks the first time in a long time that I had some distance from my friend R. I'd had a severe emotional outburst toward R in early June of 2007. I didn't see him again after that until late September of 2007. And I didn't see him again after that until July of 2009. I would say it's definitely interesting to see how R changes as a character in my dreams from this notebook to notebook 13. In notebook 13, my dream-relationship with R, and his then-fiancee (now wife) L, take on a much more sexual tone.
(6/29/07) cupcake party; old eyes in the new times
(Entered in paper journal at 4 AM at home in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I was in a cubicle before an office. I sat like I was in a chair directly before the doorway to the office. A woman was in the office. she was darkly tanned, a little thick-bodied, with long, wavy, soft brown, and dark blonde hair. She wore a sleeveless, black shirt.
The woman told me, "I like you. You're smart and interesting and amazing." She then began singing to the effect of, "But no matter how I try, I just can't get myself to love you. It's no offense to you. I just can't feel anything for you." I thought it was a beautiful and charming song.
As the woman was partly through, a man walked up to us. He may have been my co-worker MW. The woman stopped singing, as if she thought she would get scolded for saying she didn't love me.
We were all heading downstairs for a celebration. I thought the celebration was for me, because I was doing such a great job. We went down a long escalator in a wide room with one or two other escalators in it. I was not interested in going to this thing, but I thinking of nice things to say.
We got down to a basement that looked like a school cafeteria built into a huge basement laundry room. There were only a couple long bench-tables in the whole space.
In now learned that this celebration was all about a group of people who had put together a really interesting project. They sat at a bench-table.
People were passing around cupcakes. They wanted me to have a plate with three large, frosted cupcakes on it all to myself. But I couldn't eat that much. I took one that looked like German chocolate cake. There was another one that was chocolate on chocolate, and another that was chocolate with blue frosting.
I stood up. Another group of people walked in. I gave them the two cupcakes. I told the group I couldn't possibly eat these cupcakes.
Dream #2
I was in a car with a long-haired, pale-skinned, young man. He kept sucking his mouth around and then away from his teeth, like he had a nervous disorder. He was very thin-faced. I saw him as if I were a camera filming him in the driver's seat. But I was myself, somewhere.
We drove through "New York," around "Central Park." The man told me, "People walk down routes they wouldn't have thought of walking down years ago. This city is different. You simply couldn't walk down those routes a few years ago: you'd get killed.
"We found safer routes in those days. The easiest way was by staying close to the libraries." As we passed gates into the park, the man said, ""You definitely didn't go into the park."
We passed a big library on a triangular corner. A lovely couple walked out. The man said, "Those two right there. That's a sign of the times. They would have gotten beaten up for sure. Now they walk around here shopping for groceries."
I stood out on the corner now, on a little plaza area before the library. There were a few Asian guys in suits handing out Christian literature. I was still seeing everything as if I were a movie camera. I thought this was a movie. I wondered how they got everybody to act so natural.
Dream #1
I was in a cubicle before an office. I sat like I was in a chair directly before the doorway to the office. A woman was in the office. she was darkly tanned, a little thick-bodied, with long, wavy, soft brown, and dark blonde hair. She wore a sleeveless, black shirt.
The woman told me, "I like you. You're smart and interesting and amazing." She then began singing to the effect of, "But no matter how I try, I just can't get myself to love you. It's no offense to you. I just can't feel anything for you." I thought it was a beautiful and charming song.
As the woman was partly through, a man walked up to us. He may have been my co-worker MW. The woman stopped singing, as if she thought she would get scolded for saying she didn't love me.
We were all heading downstairs for a celebration. I thought the celebration was for me, because I was doing such a great job. We went down a long escalator in a wide room with one or two other escalators in it. I was not interested in going to this thing, but I thinking of nice things to say.
We got down to a basement that looked like a school cafeteria built into a huge basement laundry room. There were only a couple long bench-tables in the whole space.
In now learned that this celebration was all about a group of people who had put together a really interesting project. They sat at a bench-table.
People were passing around cupcakes. They wanted me to have a plate with three large, frosted cupcakes on it all to myself. But I couldn't eat that much. I took one that looked like German chocolate cake. There was another one that was chocolate on chocolate, and another that was chocolate with blue frosting.
I stood up. Another group of people walked in. I gave them the two cupcakes. I told the group I couldn't possibly eat these cupcakes.
Dream #2
I was in a car with a long-haired, pale-skinned, young man. He kept sucking his mouth around and then away from his teeth, like he had a nervous disorder. He was very thin-faced. I saw him as if I were a camera filming him in the driver's seat. But I was myself, somewhere.
We drove through "New York," around "Central Park." The man told me, "People walk down routes they wouldn't have thought of walking down years ago. This city is different. You simply couldn't walk down those routes a few years ago: you'd get killed.
"We found safer routes in those days. The easiest way was by staying close to the libraries." As we passed gates into the park, the man said, ""You definitely didn't go into the park."
We passed a big library on a triangular corner. A lovely couple walked out. The man said, "Those two right there. That's a sign of the times. They would have gotten beaten up for sure. Now they walk around here shopping for groceries."
I stood out on the corner now, on a little plaza area before the library. There were a few Asian guys in suits handing out Christian literature. I was still seeing everything as if I were a movie camera. I thought this was a movie. I wondered how they got everybody to act so natural.
(6/30/07) decaf urn
Dream #1
I stood on a street like a main street of a small town. There was a beautiful, orange-metallic sunset that made all the building fronts glow. Something about the building fronts seemed flimsy, like cardboard boxes. I heard my friend R talking, as if he were behind me and to my right (?) but also as if I were imagining this whole scene and hearing him "in real life." R said, "Oh, PK? Isn't he the world economist for your company?" R said this in a way that was supposed to make me feel like I didn't know as much as he did.
I was in a store like a Kmart. The store seemed desolate. I sat or crouched by the back wall, with the wall to my left, looking at a row of boxes lining the wall. The stacks of boxes varied, but none was higher than ten feet tall.
I walked out of some back area and back out to this row of boxes lining the wall. I was carrying an orange-handled (to mark decaf) coffee urn in my left hand. I shuffled back and forth by the shorter stacks of boxes. I was telling someone behind me and to my right that I could find R's statements in a box, is if by opening the box, I would make R's actual voice come out.
I continued the conversation, which soon made me realize I needed to take the coffee urn to the back area. I took it back to the restroom. I saw there was an urn on the floor. I wondered why I'd need to bring this one in if there already was one in this room. I washed the urn in the sink. A small, dead roach fell off from some part of the urn.
I stood on a street like a main street of a small town. There was a beautiful, orange-metallic sunset that made all the building fronts glow. Something about the building fronts seemed flimsy, like cardboard boxes. I heard my friend R talking, as if he were behind me and to my right (?) but also as if I were imagining this whole scene and hearing him "in real life." R said, "Oh, PK? Isn't he the world economist for your company?" R said this in a way that was supposed to make me feel like I didn't know as much as he did.
I was in a store like a Kmart. The store seemed desolate. I sat or crouched by the back wall, with the wall to my left, looking at a row of boxes lining the wall. The stacks of boxes varied, but none was higher than ten feet tall.
I walked out of some back area and back out to this row of boxes lining the wall. I was carrying an orange-handled (to mark decaf) coffee urn in my left hand. I shuffled back and forth by the shorter stacks of boxes. I was telling someone behind me and to my right that I could find R's statements in a box, is if by opening the box, I would make R's actual voice come out.
I continued the conversation, which soon made me realize I needed to take the coffee urn to the back area. I took it back to the restroom. I saw there was an urn on the floor. I wondered why I'd need to bring this one in if there already was one in this room. I washed the urn in the sink. A small, dead roach fell off from some part of the urn.
(7/2/07) blue little angels; funniest faces, wackiest names
(Entered in paper journal at 6 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I stood on an airstrip with my family. It was a clear day. We were getting ready to watch a Blue Angels show. The jets stood before us. I was surprised that they were so small. They looked like helicopters, too. They had white bodies and reddish striping. They threw out a lot of clear exhaust.
I was in the cabin of a plane about the size of a passenger jet or cargo plane. And now the little "Blue Angels" jets began flying out the "side door" of the cabin. I somehow figured that this made perfect sense.
Dream #2
My co-worker AS asked me to find a report for her called "Funniest Faces." I was surprised that my company had actually printed an investment report with a name like that. I'd never heard of it before. I saw that it was by a person I'd also never heard of before. I also "knew" that my co-worker DC had written a report called "Wackiest Names."
Dream #1
I stood on an airstrip with my family. It was a clear day. We were getting ready to watch a Blue Angels show. The jets stood before us. I was surprised that they were so small. They looked like helicopters, too. They had white bodies and reddish striping. They threw out a lot of clear exhaust.
I was in the cabin of a plane about the size of a passenger jet or cargo plane. And now the little "Blue Angels" jets began flying out the "side door" of the cabin. I somehow figured that this made perfect sense.
Dream #2
My co-worker AS asked me to find a report for her called "Funniest Faces." I was surprised that my company had actually printed an investment report with a name like that. I'd never heard of it before. I saw that it was by a person I'd also never heard of before. I also "knew" that my co-worker DC had written a report called "Wackiest Names."
(7/3/07) a driving emergency
(Entered in paper journal at 5:56 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
Am image of my own face, up close, in slight shade. My face very scraggly, some crust of dead skin barely hanging off my chin.
I heard a TV (?) news announcement, a woman speaking, saying that different cities had been making emergency plans. It might have been announced that Washington DC had driving routes out of buildings and possibly out of town.
The emergency became a man who had driven into "a wife and son." A certain policeman was investigating this. But now the policeman was the man who had hit "his wife and son." The son, in my mind's eye, looked like a girl -- long, blonde hair. The son may also have been wearing a dress. He had huge, blue eyes.
I saw the car. It was tipped over in front of a house. The house looked like it was on a stage, but also like just behind it and on its right were the rushing remnants of an elevated train or highway. I thought, and hoped, a little, that I would see the crash in replay. I thought I would get some meaning, some answer, if I could see the death.
I felt like the man was around here. I thought he might have killed himself in the crash. I also thought he might have been getting ready to kill himself, possibly by slicing his throat while he was in the house. I hoped that if that were the case I might at least be able to see it, if not the car crash.
Dream #1
Am image of my own face, up close, in slight shade. My face very scraggly, some crust of dead skin barely hanging off my chin.
I heard a TV (?) news announcement, a woman speaking, saying that different cities had been making emergency plans. It might have been announced that Washington DC had driving routes out of buildings and possibly out of town.
The emergency became a man who had driven into "a wife and son." A certain policeman was investigating this. But now the policeman was the man who had hit "his wife and son." The son, in my mind's eye, looked like a girl -- long, blonde hair. The son may also have been wearing a dress. He had huge, blue eyes.
I saw the car. It was tipped over in front of a house. The house looked like it was on a stage, but also like just behind it and on its right were the rushing remnants of an elevated train or highway. I thought, and hoped, a little, that I would see the crash in replay. I thought I would get some meaning, some answer, if I could see the death.
I felt like the man was around here. I thought he might have killed himself in the crash. I also thought he might have been getting ready to kill himself, possibly by slicing his throat while he was in the house. I hoped that if that were the case I might at least be able to see it, if not the car crash.
(7/4/07) tinted window; orange sparks
(Entered in paper journal at 8:35 AM at Ozzie's cafe on Seventh Avenue and Lincoln Place in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I sat on the floor in a living room. My sister sat on the right end of a couch to my left. I may have been sitting with my back against the right end of the couch, so my sister was directly to my left and above me. We both wrote in a notebook. We were writing a plan or a structured report, but it had to do with something mystical.
I stopped in the middle of writing (my sister and I were writing the same thing at the same speed, and we both stopped at the same time). I looked to the wall to the right. There were two roaches. I went to the wall. My sister stood behind me.
I said, "Well, we can just kill these roaches." But now I saw a lot of tiny, tiny roaches on the wall. It was like clouds of gnats. I didn't know what to do.
I saw out a window on the left side of the room. I was far from the window. The room was dim. The window must also have been tinted: it looked like full day outside, but the sky was a heavy, thick, though vivid blue. There were some redbrick building tops before the sky, and something like a heavy, steel beam over the top view just outside the window.
Dream #2
I stood under something like a bridge and saw orange curtains of thick sparks flow down before a sea-green sky like orange sun gleams on the crests of rolling waves in a river.
Dream #1
I sat on the floor in a living room. My sister sat on the right end of a couch to my left. I may have been sitting with my back against the right end of the couch, so my sister was directly to my left and above me. We both wrote in a notebook. We were writing a plan or a structured report, but it had to do with something mystical.
I stopped in the middle of writing (my sister and I were writing the same thing at the same speed, and we both stopped at the same time). I looked to the wall to the right. There were two roaches. I went to the wall. My sister stood behind me.
I said, "Well, we can just kill these roaches." But now I saw a lot of tiny, tiny roaches on the wall. It was like clouds of gnats. I didn't know what to do.
I saw out a window on the left side of the room. I was far from the window. The room was dim. The window must also have been tinted: it looked like full day outside, but the sky was a heavy, thick, though vivid blue. There were some redbrick building tops before the sky, and something like a heavy, steel beam over the top view just outside the window.
Dream #2
I stood under something like a bridge and saw orange curtains of thick sparks flow down before a sea-green sky like orange sun gleams on the crests of rolling waves in a river.
(7/7/07) was he the real deal?
(Entered in paper journal at 8:15 AM at Ozzie's cafe (not sure which) in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
Some people called to a group of us who were in another room in an office floor. They said, "Come look how your boss BS is standing."
We went into the office, which was a huge, empty room. We looked out the window to tall, tall rooftops that nevertheless seemed to be about twenty stories below us. People who looked like BS stood on occasional rooftops. I couldn't figure out which one was the real BS. Eventually I did.
The atmosphere outside as orange with sunset. Inside it was a dimmer orange.
Dream #1
Some people called to a group of us who were in another room in an office floor. They said, "Come look how your boss BS is standing."
We went into the office, which was a huge, empty room. We looked out the window to tall, tall rooftops that nevertheless seemed to be about twenty stories below us. People who looked like BS stood on occasional rooftops. I couldn't figure out which one was the real BS. Eventually I did.
The atmosphere outside as orange with sunset. Inside it was a dimmer orange.
(7/10/07) reaching out, pushing away; up the walls
(Entered in paper journal at 6:20 AM at Starbucks on 29th Street and Fifth Avenue in Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I saw my co-worker MA in the office. I reached my hands out toward him in a weird way, holding both my arms out straight in front of me, maybe slightly bent, with my hands bending inward toward each other at the wrists, the palms facing outward, toward MA. I felt like I was trying to contact MA, like I may not have been quite there.
Dream #2
I was in an asphalt lot, possibly a schoolyard. I was with a group of people. They seemed older than I, but possibly around my age. The day was bright and clear and hot. We all stood listening to someone. I broke off for some reason.
I bounded around the schoolyard. Eventually I found that I could run on the walls of the yard, i.e. parallel to the ground. The walls were like cinder blocks, but they had a weird texture to them. I was now showing someone else, a man a little older than I, that there was nothing supernatural about running on the walls: it was just a matter of momentum.
The yard was now divided, by concrete walls and chain link fences (simultaneously or alternately?) which were covered at their feet with thick weeds, into four sections. The group of people were in the upper, left quadrant. At first, the man and I were in the lower, left quadrant. Somehow my running (I don't know if he ever ran) got us into the lower, right quadrant.
We may have been in the upper, right quadrant when I saw the group of people in the upper, left quadrant. I felt like those people might have been judging me for not being in the same quadrant as they, but also for being crazy enough to think that I could actually run on the walls.
I was fighting to get back into the quadrant with everybody else. But I could only get so far up the barriers: they were topped with sprawly coils of barbed wire, especially the chain link fences (which may have been the barrier between the left and right quadrants).
I tried not to panic in front of the other man. Instead, I acted like I was teaching him. Eventually I had a new theory: I could bounce off the fence and pull myself, in a parabola "parallel" to the ground, back to the fence at a higher point. In that way I could make a jump close enough to the barbed wire to get over it. But, I thought, if I"m not even supposed to be able to run on the walls, what makes me think I would be able to jump up the walls?
Dream #1
I saw my co-worker MA in the office. I reached my hands out toward him in a weird way, holding both my arms out straight in front of me, maybe slightly bent, with my hands bending inward toward each other at the wrists, the palms facing outward, toward MA. I felt like I was trying to contact MA, like I may not have been quite there.
Dream #2
I was in an asphalt lot, possibly a schoolyard. I was with a group of people. They seemed older than I, but possibly around my age. The day was bright and clear and hot. We all stood listening to someone. I broke off for some reason.
I bounded around the schoolyard. Eventually I found that I could run on the walls of the yard, i.e. parallel to the ground. The walls were like cinder blocks, but they had a weird texture to them. I was now showing someone else, a man a little older than I, that there was nothing supernatural about running on the walls: it was just a matter of momentum.
The yard was now divided, by concrete walls and chain link fences (simultaneously or alternately?) which were covered at their feet with thick weeds, into four sections. The group of people were in the upper, left quadrant. At first, the man and I were in the lower, left quadrant. Somehow my running (I don't know if he ever ran) got us into the lower, right quadrant.
We may have been in the upper, right quadrant when I saw the group of people in the upper, left quadrant. I felt like those people might have been judging me for not being in the same quadrant as they, but also for being crazy enough to think that I could actually run on the walls.
I was fighting to get back into the quadrant with everybody else. But I could only get so far up the barriers: they were topped with sprawly coils of barbed wire, especially the chain link fences (which may have been the barrier between the left and right quadrants).
I tried not to panic in front of the other man. Instead, I acted like I was teaching him. Eventually I had a new theory: I could bounce off the fence and pull myself, in a parabola "parallel" to the ground, back to the fence at a higher point. In that way I could make a jump close enough to the barbed wire to get over it. But, I thought, if I"m not even supposed to be able to run on the walls, what makes me think I would be able to jump up the walls?
Saturday, March 2, 2013
(7/11/07) the horror of a farewell kiss
Dream #1
I walked up steps from a basement which was more like a storm cellar planted in the center of a living room. The swinging doors of this "cellar" were held open (at first?) by a woman.
As I walked up the steps I held 3D glasses to my face. The woman (or I?), pretending we were in a 3D horror movie, shouted, "No! No! No!!!" The woman held er cheeks and shook her head.
I stood beside the woman (as if to comfort her?). But the woman may have laughed and pushed me away gently. The woman was a little older than I and had a very "suburban mother" look.
I stood by a front door. I may have been telling my friend R goodbye. A pretty, blonde girl came up to us. The girl said, "I'm a Dominican. We say goodbye with kisses."
I obliged the girl by walking up to her, embracing her, and kissing her, probably just on the cheeks, though I pressed hard, as if I meant this innocent-seeming kiss to be passionate.
I walked up steps from a basement which was more like a storm cellar planted in the center of a living room. The swinging doors of this "cellar" were held open (at first?) by a woman.
As I walked up the steps I held 3D glasses to my face. The woman (or I?), pretending we were in a 3D horror movie, shouted, "No! No! No!!!" The woman held er cheeks and shook her head.
I stood beside the woman (as if to comfort her?). But the woman may have laughed and pushed me away gently. The woman was a little older than I and had a very "suburban mother" look.
I stood by a front door. I may have been telling my friend R goodbye. A pretty, blonde girl came up to us. The girl said, "I'm a Dominican. We say goodbye with kisses."
I obliged the girl by walking up to her, embracing her, and kissing her, probably just on the cheeks, though I pressed hard, as if I meant this innocent-seeming kiss to be passionate.
(7/12/07) incriminating myself
(Entered in paper journal at 8:32 PM at home in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I was in a big building like a convention center, big-box retailer, and church combined. I was with a thuggish, Mexican boy. A friend who was like me separated from me at the exit. The exit was just a wide, garage- or loading-dock-style doorway.
A lot of people milled in and out between my friend and I -- we stood at opposite ends of the exit. We were tying to be "slick" by not letting on that we knew each other to all the people walking between us. We were proud: we thought we were troublemakers.
Somehow I also felt like myself. I felt like I was walking between the two guys. I felt like at least the guy I was (even presently?) was actually not a thug but a cop who was watching me. He/I thought he/I was being "slick" by watching me and waiting for me to cause trouble so he/I could catch me.
I tried to blend in with the crowd, but I ended up on the outskirts.
Dream #1
I was in a big building like a convention center, big-box retailer, and church combined. I was with a thuggish, Mexican boy. A friend who was like me separated from me at the exit. The exit was just a wide, garage- or loading-dock-style doorway.
A lot of people milled in and out between my friend and I -- we stood at opposite ends of the exit. We were tying to be "slick" by not letting on that we knew each other to all the people walking between us. We were proud: we thought we were troublemakers.
Somehow I also felt like myself. I felt like I was walking between the two guys. I felt like at least the guy I was (even presently?) was actually not a thug but a cop who was watching me. He/I thought he/I was being "slick" by watching me and waiting for me to cause trouble so he/I could catch me.
I tried to blend in with the crowd, but I ended up on the outskirts.
(7/13/07) snob of scrap heap; my new place is taken; naked before co-worker
(Entered in paper journal at 6:30 PM on Q-train from Manhattan to Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I stood on the opposite end of a heap of junk from a man about my age. The heap of junk was right next to a scraggly chain link fence and was mostly scrapped material like rusted sheet metal, bed frames, springs, and pieces of scrap wood.
I made a smart-alecky comment about the pile of scrap material, like "Well, I guess we shouldn't be surprised, knowing how people are." I sneered as if I thought I was being funny, but I was hollowly disappointed in my snobby demeanor.
Dream #2
It was the dark of night. I had gone to the backyard of "my house." The backyard was like the backyard of the house where my family lived during my final years of high school.
I might have been looking for my landlady, who may have been my mother at first. I had been talking with my mother/"landlady" (the landlady being my landlady D from the place I'd lived in from May of 2006 through January of 2007) about some troubles my neighbors had been giving me.
My landlady gave me a light push backwards and told me she would take care of things. She opened the door to a separate apartment (like a mini-house) that was where my mom's garage would have been at my family's old house. My landlady opened the door just a crack and walked in, leaving me behind.
At first I thought this was a new place my landlady was allowing me to have. But when I looked inside I saw a poster on the wall, either of an island in the ocean or of a pretty pop singer. By this I understood the place was already taken. It couldn't, therefore, be meant for me. The room was very dark: I'm not sure, actually, how I even managed to see inside. I stayed outside. I thought, What's my landlady doing going in there? It's somebody else's place.
A short, very thin, black man, maybe a little younger than I, walked in front of me and into the apartment. The man wore a deep, vivid blue polo shirt. He may have had a cast or some white bandages on his left arm. Something about the man seemed very feminine. I was surprised by how gentle he had been walking in front of me: I had expected him to be a lot meaner.
Dream #3
I lay on a bed or couch. I was naked. My co-worker EB stood in front of me, fully clothed. I lay on my side, facing EB. My body felt soft, almost feminine. I may have had a shaved crotch.
Dream #1
I stood on the opposite end of a heap of junk from a man about my age. The heap of junk was right next to a scraggly chain link fence and was mostly scrapped material like rusted sheet metal, bed frames, springs, and pieces of scrap wood.
I made a smart-alecky comment about the pile of scrap material, like "Well, I guess we shouldn't be surprised, knowing how people are." I sneered as if I thought I was being funny, but I was hollowly disappointed in my snobby demeanor.
Dream #2
It was the dark of night. I had gone to the backyard of "my house." The backyard was like the backyard of the house where my family lived during my final years of high school.
I might have been looking for my landlady, who may have been my mother at first. I had been talking with my mother/"landlady" (the landlady being my landlady D from the place I'd lived in from May of 2006 through January of 2007) about some troubles my neighbors had been giving me.
My landlady gave me a light push backwards and told me she would take care of things. She opened the door to a separate apartment (like a mini-house) that was where my mom's garage would have been at my family's old house. My landlady opened the door just a crack and walked in, leaving me behind.
At first I thought this was a new place my landlady was allowing me to have. But when I looked inside I saw a poster on the wall, either of an island in the ocean or of a pretty pop singer. By this I understood the place was already taken. It couldn't, therefore, be meant for me. The room was very dark: I'm not sure, actually, how I even managed to see inside. I stayed outside. I thought, What's my landlady doing going in there? It's somebody else's place.
A short, very thin, black man, maybe a little younger than I, walked in front of me and into the apartment. The man wore a deep, vivid blue polo shirt. He may have had a cast or some white bandages on his left arm. Something about the man seemed very feminine. I was surprised by how gentle he had been walking in front of me: I had expected him to be a lot meaner.
Dream #3
I lay on a bed or couch. I was naked. My co-worker EB stood in front of me, fully clothed. I lay on my side, facing EB. My body felt soft, almost feminine. I may have had a shaved crotch.
(7/15/07) gold-mining area; valley of the shadow; the yellow hummer
(Entered in paper journal at 8 AM at Starbucks on Ninth Street and Second Avenue.)
Dream #1
It was a clear day. I stood atop a hill of piled soil. A female friend was with me. We were talking with a man who may have been a boss of ours. We were in some gold-mining area. We were discussing a weird semantic issue. It made me think I needed to get rid of my idea of obtaining gold from this area.
I walked down the ridge of the hill to a certain height and then jumped the rest of the way (ten feet, I told myself) to the ground.
Dream #2
It was a sunny day. A man stood on a park lawn, possibly looking out on a river. The man may have been standing with other people, talking with them. Behind them was a man who looked like Adam Sandler, except maybe a little skinny. This man was supposed to be me. The man was autistic.
The man said, "Do you remember when you didn't let me watch the show XXXXX?" The man got more upset about it, muttering and muttering.
I saw (as if I stood in front of everybody facing away from the river and toward them) how the "Adam Sandler" man's figure was becoming dimmer and tinted with deep orange. I couldn't figure out what was happening -- if it was something with my vision or something "unreal." But I saw how the man had worked himself into such a panic that he was pulling himself out of the world completely. His figure became like a black hole from a cutout of reality.
Now that black shape pixelated, became vague, made a fluttery, electronic, popping sound, and disappeared. I saw the man standing by himself in a similar lawn. He was in a world by himself. He knew, to some degree, that he had pulled himself out of the world of interaction with others by having gotten so upset. The man spoke, as if speaking to his caretaker, trying to acquiesce in some way regarding the TV show he'd missed, as if speaking to the air in this other world would get the message through.
The man "woke up" and was standing, some time later, in the park again. He was now a skinny, tall, white boy with long, frizzy-curly hair and blue eyes. He stood facing and edging into a leafless shrub. Two guys stood on either side of him, at an awkward angle to the shrub, possibly throwing a ball to each other. They had to throw the ball over the shrub in some weird way.
Dream #3
I floated over a computerized map, possibly of the whole world. The land was in tan. Clouds were in pink. I descended down below the clouds. Below the clouds it was like the clouds were hard, flat panels. The land forms were canyon-like slopes broken up by networks of rivers. The rivers looked real. Everything else looked like computer animation. There was no vegetation. It only seemed like a few hundred feet, at most, between the rivers and the clouds.
I told myself I was in Asia. I was looking for the particular boss of some company. I flew around a building, the only building in this whole landscape, a tall, shimmery building with a parking garage as its base. The garage was just a simple structure of concrete columns, ramps, and platform-levels. The garage was, I could see, only sparsely populated with cars.
On the top level, at the base of the actual structure (as one would think of it) of the building, at least two cars were parked so they were actually propped up, leaning against the building. One of these vehicles was a yellow Hummer.
Dream #1
It was a clear day. I stood atop a hill of piled soil. A female friend was with me. We were talking with a man who may have been a boss of ours. We were in some gold-mining area. We were discussing a weird semantic issue. It made me think I needed to get rid of my idea of obtaining gold from this area.
I walked down the ridge of the hill to a certain height and then jumped the rest of the way (ten feet, I told myself) to the ground.
Dream #2
It was a sunny day. A man stood on a park lawn, possibly looking out on a river. The man may have been standing with other people, talking with them. Behind them was a man who looked like Adam Sandler, except maybe a little skinny. This man was supposed to be me. The man was autistic.
The man said, "Do you remember when you didn't let me watch the show XXXXX?" The man got more upset about it, muttering and muttering.
I saw (as if I stood in front of everybody facing away from the river and toward them) how the "Adam Sandler" man's figure was becoming dimmer and tinted with deep orange. I couldn't figure out what was happening -- if it was something with my vision or something "unreal." But I saw how the man had worked himself into such a panic that he was pulling himself out of the world completely. His figure became like a black hole from a cutout of reality.
Now that black shape pixelated, became vague, made a fluttery, electronic, popping sound, and disappeared. I saw the man standing by himself in a similar lawn. He was in a world by himself. He knew, to some degree, that he had pulled himself out of the world of interaction with others by having gotten so upset. The man spoke, as if speaking to his caretaker, trying to acquiesce in some way regarding the TV show he'd missed, as if speaking to the air in this other world would get the message through.
The man "woke up" and was standing, some time later, in the park again. He was now a skinny, tall, white boy with long, frizzy-curly hair and blue eyes. He stood facing and edging into a leafless shrub. Two guys stood on either side of him, at an awkward angle to the shrub, possibly throwing a ball to each other. They had to throw the ball over the shrub in some weird way.
Dream #3
I floated over a computerized map, possibly of the whole world. The land was in tan. Clouds were in pink. I descended down below the clouds. Below the clouds it was like the clouds were hard, flat panels. The land forms were canyon-like slopes broken up by networks of rivers. The rivers looked real. Everything else looked like computer animation. There was no vegetation. It only seemed like a few hundred feet, at most, between the rivers and the clouds.
I told myself I was in Asia. I was looking for the particular boss of some company. I flew around a building, the only building in this whole landscape, a tall, shimmery building with a parking garage as its base. The garage was just a simple structure of concrete columns, ramps, and platform-levels. The garage was, I could see, only sparsely populated with cars.
On the top level, at the base of the actual structure (as one would think of it) of the building, at least two cars were parked so they were actually propped up, leaning against the building. One of these vehicles was a yellow Hummer.
(7/17/07) scary music video; red landscape; two museum rooms; lesbians and mother; it all leads to death
(Entered in paper journal at 5:48 AM at Starbucks on 17th Street and Broadway.)
Dream #1
A music video by Gloria Estefan. Estefan's was done up like from the 1940s. The scenes would change from Estefan's standing by herself and singing to the camera to standing and singing in a big, "unfinished"-style bedroom with one or two other women. Estefan's outfits changed, but she generally wore pale colored, satiny, shortish dresses. Estefan's song was to the women, about how she and they always fight and think they're going to break up, but how eventually she gets back together with them.
At "the end" of the video, Estefan was in a dim and small, but elegant-looking bedroom. Estefan wore a black dress. She looked a little fat. She sang about how she could never give up loving so many beautiful girls. She gave a weird, "who me?" troublemaker expression that one might see on an old man in a Fellini film. She reclined on the floor with her hands behind her head. She looked very relaxed. She had a black blanket over her.
From behind Estefan's right shoulder, as if out of the ground, came the head of a Hispanic boy who was somewhat attractive, except that his brow was pulled out a few inches, his eyebrows were very thick, and his mouth awas full of disarranged, misshapen teeth. I saw from the woman's view, i.e. lying on the ground, a man standing over the woman with a machine gun pointed at her.
Now I saw, as if watching a movie, army men in a bedroom with a weird, circular, Asian-style (?) window. The room itself seemed to be ancient, made out of solid, crafted stone. The army men ran at a window, as if the woman had escaped out of it.
The room had gone from being full of men to being empty except a constant "drip" of men (like in an old Nintendo game) appearing just to run at the window. But when the men would jump through the window something awful would happen to them. They would dissolve into a bunch of flying pieces of flesh. I was disgusted, but I tried to look harder at what was happening.
I now stood outside the room, in the dark night. A yellow glow came through the window from the room. The window was key-shaped, with a lattice of intricate, wooden designs in shards at its lower, right edge. Some men would jump through it and become creatures like ravens. Some would jump through and become just clumps of fleshy feathers that fluttered through the air for a moment and then fell scattered all over the ground. Some would jump through and seem fine for a step or two before bloating out into mutated "birdmen" and falling down, dead.
One man didn't even make it through. His top half fell over the outside wall, and he hung there, his back coated in grey-black feathers.
A bunch of soldiers jumped through the window. They stood in a loose formation, facing at a wide, relaxed diagonal to the wall. They held their guns ready to shoot something that may have been up a couple stories.
I was the woman. I stood among the soldiers. Somehow the soldiers didn't see me, but I felt like they would son, and that they would then kill me. I guessed I couldn't escape them. I stood among them, in their loose ranks.
The men were all white, not overly muscular, somewhat red-tanned, most of them with close-cut, darkish blonde hair. I kept waiting for the awful thing to happen to them, like it had happened to the others who had gone through the window, so that they would die before noticing and killing me. I thought, Nobody lasts this long after jumping through the window.
Suddenly the soldiers all grabbed their ears as if they were hearing an awful sound. I thought, It's finally happening. But nothing much happened. One or two of the men may have had some slight melting on their faces. But mostly the soldiers were just made angry by the awful sound. They still didn't see me, but I felt like now, because of the infuriating sound, the men would most certainly kill me if they saw me.
Dream #2
An art work named after a Colorado resort town, possibly Vail or Steamboat. It was a painting like a view from space. The paint was laid on so thick that everything was three-dimensional. It was supposed to be completely realistic, but the "snow" depicted was all red, except at the peaks of some high mountains, where it was actually white. The last name of the artist may have been Burroughs.
I thought the work was very good. I didn't think the work was realistic, per se. But I did think that the red produced a lovely kind of "realistic" atmosphere.
Dream #3
I walked down a hallway with someone, possibly a woman, behind me (and to my right?). The hallway was dim and soothing, but with plain, white tiles and white walls. The hallway ended in a T-shape. At this intersection the walls and floor were black.
Both arms of the T were museum exhibits. I (and probably my friend) had a ticket that would get into both exhibits. The exhibit on the right was the one I had come for: either some unique, colorful sculptures or some kind of photography.
The exhibit on my left caught me totally by surprise: I'd had no idea there was a hall on the left. I wanted to see what it was, even though I thought I would wait to go inside until I had been to the exhibit on the right.
An old man in a security-uniform tie and jacket stood by a clear, plexiglass, turnstile gate to the art exhibit. I didn't want to make the old man think I was trying to get into the left exhibit without showing my ticket, and I didn't see a ticket-taker at this exhibit. So I crept only a couple inches into the exhibit, where the old man could still see me, so I could see the exhibit's name and some of the works on display.
The room was dim, with soft, deep-tan walls. The name of the artist whose works were on display was something like Isamu Noguchi. It might have been more like Tomiguchi.
There was some kind of sculpture in the room. But what mainly caught my eye were silhouette profiles, of black overlaid with cutout, white paper (i.e. the cutout, white paper made the profile seen on the underlying black paper). The profiles were framed very nicely and looked like profiles of nineteenth-century people, mostly children.
The old man cleared his throat at me. I looked back. I sheepishly headed his way. I really desired to show the old man that I wasn't a crook, that I had a ticket, and that I wasn't trying to get into the exhibit without a ticket.
I walked up to the plexiglass gate. The ticket had a barcode. The barcode needed to be ran against a scanner. The waist-high gates would then open. I got nervous about whether my ticket would work at all, or if it would show that I didn't have the right to go into the left exhibit.
I looked into the right exhibit. The walls were black. There were a couple metallic staircases leading up to a short second level. Some blue spotlights slightly glowed amid the overall natural-feeling incandescence, lending tiny, indigo-violet twinkles to the metallic and plexiglass surfaces around me. I felt like I was in some areas from the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.
Dream #4
Two Asian girls wearing puffy outfits that looked like exaggerations of towels wrapped around their bodies. One girl wore a yellow outfit. The other girl wore a blue outfit. The girls were in a big bedroom that was in an old, Asian style but also had touches like a modern college dorm room.
A (very tall!) woman dressed like the evil mother in Ivan the Terrible came into the room. I don't know if the old woman was a mother to one of the daughters. I don't feel like she was, even though I seem to have thought of her as a mother. The woman was distraught because the two girls were in love with each other and were even planning to marry each other.
The girls knew how distraught the woman was. So, to tease the old mother, they stood in front of her and faced each other. They said to the mother, not regarding her, almost regarding each other, but looking slightly up as if to acknowledge slightly that they were speaking to the mother, "We have decided that we love each other like sisters. Yes, we've decided that we really are like sisters. We need to accept that and be like sisters to each other." The old mother was relieved.
Now my view closed up on the girls as they spoke more and more erotically and got closer and closer to each other. They kissed each other, then held hands and bounded lightly to the door, saying, "But we're still in love with each other, too, and we're still going to get married!"
The girls seemed, by having bounded to the door, to be ushering the old mother to the door, thus telling the old mother to leave the room. The old mother was upset again. Some part of her seemed like an old, bald man.
Dream #5
I sat eating long strips of roast beef. A man walked past me and to a door to my left, perhaps telling me, as he passed, that he was going hunting.
I said something to ridicule the man. I thought, It all leads to death. Killing leads to death. Eating dead things just tears up your insides and kills you faster.
I wondered why I was saying all this to myself if I was sitting here eating meat right now. The meat wasn't roast beef. It was like strips of deer or elk meat. I ate it off something like a stretched skin, like on a drum. Something felt Native American about it. The strips of meat themselves seemed fringed and tassled.
Dream #1
A music video by Gloria Estefan. Estefan's was done up like from the 1940s. The scenes would change from Estefan's standing by herself and singing to the camera to standing and singing in a big, "unfinished"-style bedroom with one or two other women. Estefan's outfits changed, but she generally wore pale colored, satiny, shortish dresses. Estefan's song was to the women, about how she and they always fight and think they're going to break up, but how eventually she gets back together with them.
At "the end" of the video, Estefan was in a dim and small, but elegant-looking bedroom. Estefan wore a black dress. She looked a little fat. She sang about how she could never give up loving so many beautiful girls. She gave a weird, "who me?" troublemaker expression that one might see on an old man in a Fellini film. She reclined on the floor with her hands behind her head. She looked very relaxed. She had a black blanket over her.
From behind Estefan's right shoulder, as if out of the ground, came the head of a Hispanic boy who was somewhat attractive, except that his brow was pulled out a few inches, his eyebrows were very thick, and his mouth awas full of disarranged, misshapen teeth. I saw from the woman's view, i.e. lying on the ground, a man standing over the woman with a machine gun pointed at her.
Now I saw, as if watching a movie, army men in a bedroom with a weird, circular, Asian-style (?) window. The room itself seemed to be ancient, made out of solid, crafted stone. The army men ran at a window, as if the woman had escaped out of it.
The room had gone from being full of men to being empty except a constant "drip" of men (like in an old Nintendo game) appearing just to run at the window. But when the men would jump through the window something awful would happen to them. They would dissolve into a bunch of flying pieces of flesh. I was disgusted, but I tried to look harder at what was happening.
I now stood outside the room, in the dark night. A yellow glow came through the window from the room. The window was key-shaped, with a lattice of intricate, wooden designs in shards at its lower, right edge. Some men would jump through it and become creatures like ravens. Some would jump through and become just clumps of fleshy feathers that fluttered through the air for a moment and then fell scattered all over the ground. Some would jump through and seem fine for a step or two before bloating out into mutated "birdmen" and falling down, dead.
One man didn't even make it through. His top half fell over the outside wall, and he hung there, his back coated in grey-black feathers.
A bunch of soldiers jumped through the window. They stood in a loose formation, facing at a wide, relaxed diagonal to the wall. They held their guns ready to shoot something that may have been up a couple stories.
I was the woman. I stood among the soldiers. Somehow the soldiers didn't see me, but I felt like they would son, and that they would then kill me. I guessed I couldn't escape them. I stood among them, in their loose ranks.
The men were all white, not overly muscular, somewhat red-tanned, most of them with close-cut, darkish blonde hair. I kept waiting for the awful thing to happen to them, like it had happened to the others who had gone through the window, so that they would die before noticing and killing me. I thought, Nobody lasts this long after jumping through the window.
Suddenly the soldiers all grabbed their ears as if they were hearing an awful sound. I thought, It's finally happening. But nothing much happened. One or two of the men may have had some slight melting on their faces. But mostly the soldiers were just made angry by the awful sound. They still didn't see me, but I felt like now, because of the infuriating sound, the men would most certainly kill me if they saw me.
Dream #2
An art work named after a Colorado resort town, possibly Vail or Steamboat. It was a painting like a view from space. The paint was laid on so thick that everything was three-dimensional. It was supposed to be completely realistic, but the "snow" depicted was all red, except at the peaks of some high mountains, where it was actually white. The last name of the artist may have been Burroughs.
I thought the work was very good. I didn't think the work was realistic, per se. But I did think that the red produced a lovely kind of "realistic" atmosphere.
Dream #3
I walked down a hallway with someone, possibly a woman, behind me (and to my right?). The hallway was dim and soothing, but with plain, white tiles and white walls. The hallway ended in a T-shape. At this intersection the walls and floor were black.
Both arms of the T were museum exhibits. I (and probably my friend) had a ticket that would get into both exhibits. The exhibit on the right was the one I had come for: either some unique, colorful sculptures or some kind of photography.
The exhibit on my left caught me totally by surprise: I'd had no idea there was a hall on the left. I wanted to see what it was, even though I thought I would wait to go inside until I had been to the exhibit on the right.
An old man in a security-uniform tie and jacket stood by a clear, plexiglass, turnstile gate to the art exhibit. I didn't want to make the old man think I was trying to get into the left exhibit without showing my ticket, and I didn't see a ticket-taker at this exhibit. So I crept only a couple inches into the exhibit, where the old man could still see me, so I could see the exhibit's name and some of the works on display.
The room was dim, with soft, deep-tan walls. The name of the artist whose works were on display was something like Isamu Noguchi. It might have been more like Tomiguchi.
There was some kind of sculpture in the room. But what mainly caught my eye were silhouette profiles, of black overlaid with cutout, white paper (i.e. the cutout, white paper made the profile seen on the underlying black paper). The profiles were framed very nicely and looked like profiles of nineteenth-century people, mostly children.
The old man cleared his throat at me. I looked back. I sheepishly headed his way. I really desired to show the old man that I wasn't a crook, that I had a ticket, and that I wasn't trying to get into the exhibit without a ticket.
I walked up to the plexiglass gate. The ticket had a barcode. The barcode needed to be ran against a scanner. The waist-high gates would then open. I got nervous about whether my ticket would work at all, or if it would show that I didn't have the right to go into the left exhibit.
I looked into the right exhibit. The walls were black. There were a couple metallic staircases leading up to a short second level. Some blue spotlights slightly glowed amid the overall natural-feeling incandescence, lending tiny, indigo-violet twinkles to the metallic and plexiglass surfaces around me. I felt like I was in some areas from the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.
Dream #4
Two Asian girls wearing puffy outfits that looked like exaggerations of towels wrapped around their bodies. One girl wore a yellow outfit. The other girl wore a blue outfit. The girls were in a big bedroom that was in an old, Asian style but also had touches like a modern college dorm room.
A (very tall!) woman dressed like the evil mother in Ivan the Terrible came into the room. I don't know if the old woman was a mother to one of the daughters. I don't feel like she was, even though I seem to have thought of her as a mother. The woman was distraught because the two girls were in love with each other and were even planning to marry each other.
The girls knew how distraught the woman was. So, to tease the old mother, they stood in front of her and faced each other. They said to the mother, not regarding her, almost regarding each other, but looking slightly up as if to acknowledge slightly that they were speaking to the mother, "We have decided that we love each other like sisters. Yes, we've decided that we really are like sisters. We need to accept that and be like sisters to each other." The old mother was relieved.
Now my view closed up on the girls as they spoke more and more erotically and got closer and closer to each other. They kissed each other, then held hands and bounded lightly to the door, saying, "But we're still in love with each other, too, and we're still going to get married!"
The girls seemed, by having bounded to the door, to be ushering the old mother to the door, thus telling the old mother to leave the room. The old mother was upset again. Some part of her seemed like an old, bald man.
Dream #5
I sat eating long strips of roast beef. A man walked past me and to a door to my left, perhaps telling me, as he passed, that he was going hunting.
I said something to ridicule the man. I thought, It all leads to death. Killing leads to death. Eating dead things just tears up your insides and kills you faster.
I wondered why I was saying all this to myself if I was sitting here eating meat right now. The meat wasn't roast beef. It was like strips of deer or elk meat. I ate it off something like a stretched skin, like on a drum. Something felt Native American about it. The strips of meat themselves seemed fringed and tassled.
(7/18/07) bed of a truck
(Entered in paper journal at 8:13 PM at home.)
Dream #1
I was in a van with a group of people. The van was white or pale, with a wide, work-van (emptyish, metallic) feel. We were just starting to drive, trying to get somewhere. But something was making us hesitant, possibly that we hadn't found some members of our group.
Two young men walked past the van. At first we might have thought we should let them in. Then someone in the van said, "No. They're cops. You can always tell, the way they try to dress like they're cool. But they're not."
One of the men was very close-shaven and wore a baseball cap, had a wiry, gaunt look, and was very pale white. The other had tight-to-the-head dreads, down about to the level of his jaw, and a little stubble. He was pale-brown, maybe Black Hispanic, with green eyes.
It somehow became somewhat obvious to me that these guys were cops. I thought, "But then everybody in the van must think I'm a cop, too!"
It was a nice, clear day. I stood in the bed of a truck. We drove down a back road on either side of which were narrow strips of grass bordered by tall trees or farmland. The bed of the truck had no walls and no roof, just barriers on the sides and L-shaped, metal poles in the corners. The bed didn't seem to be even, either: it seemed to step up in halves or quadrants. Everybody must have been in what I still thought of as the "van," which was probably now the cab of this "truck."
The truck was driving forward, as normal, and I stood at the back end of the bed, looking out toward the back of the truck, but I watched the road pass below me and the scenery pass beside me like I was at the front of the truck looking forward.
Somehow we had stopped or slowed down enough to let a tall, skinny, middle-aged, black man approach the car. He had close-cut, salt& pepper hair and beard, brown skin, and wore a brownish-green shirt and shorts. I thought, Why are they letting this guy on? He's a druggie and he wants to corrupt us all.
We were moving again, the truck probably moving forward from the front (in my perception as well as physically). I sat on a bench on the left side of the bed, watching a (white?) man, one of my crew members, talking with the black man while sitting on a bench on the right side of the bed.
Against my instinct, I was making an effort to be polite and listen to what the two men were saying. They tried to include me in the conversation. As I tried to respond, I heard a conversation in the back of my head. The conversation in the back of my head took over. It became a script, outlined with presentation-style headings and formats, on paper in a three-ring binder.
The black man sat to my left on the bench. I was pointing out different parts of the script as I heard it in my head. But it may also have been like we were speaking it out with each other.
Dream #1
I was in a van with a group of people. The van was white or pale, with a wide, work-van (emptyish, metallic) feel. We were just starting to drive, trying to get somewhere. But something was making us hesitant, possibly that we hadn't found some members of our group.
Two young men walked past the van. At first we might have thought we should let them in. Then someone in the van said, "No. They're cops. You can always tell, the way they try to dress like they're cool. But they're not."
One of the men was very close-shaven and wore a baseball cap, had a wiry, gaunt look, and was very pale white. The other had tight-to-the-head dreads, down about to the level of his jaw, and a little stubble. He was pale-brown, maybe Black Hispanic, with green eyes.
It somehow became somewhat obvious to me that these guys were cops. I thought, "But then everybody in the van must think I'm a cop, too!"
It was a nice, clear day. I stood in the bed of a truck. We drove down a back road on either side of which were narrow strips of grass bordered by tall trees or farmland. The bed of the truck had no walls and no roof, just barriers on the sides and L-shaped, metal poles in the corners. The bed didn't seem to be even, either: it seemed to step up in halves or quadrants. Everybody must have been in what I still thought of as the "van," which was probably now the cab of this "truck."
The truck was driving forward, as normal, and I stood at the back end of the bed, looking out toward the back of the truck, but I watched the road pass below me and the scenery pass beside me like I was at the front of the truck looking forward.
Somehow we had stopped or slowed down enough to let a tall, skinny, middle-aged, black man approach the car. He had close-cut, salt& pepper hair and beard, brown skin, and wore a brownish-green shirt and shorts. I thought, Why are they letting this guy on? He's a druggie and he wants to corrupt us all.
We were moving again, the truck probably moving forward from the front (in my perception as well as physically). I sat on a bench on the left side of the bed, watching a (white?) man, one of my crew members, talking with the black man while sitting on a bench on the right side of the bed.
Against my instinct, I was making an effort to be polite and listen to what the two men were saying. They tried to include me in the conversation. As I tried to respond, I heard a conversation in the back of my head. The conversation in the back of my head took over. It became a script, outlined with presentation-style headings and formats, on paper in a three-ring binder.
The black man sat to my left on the bench. I was pointing out different parts of the script as I heard it in my head. But it may also have been like we were speaking it out with each other.
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