(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.
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