Dream 1
I was in a house with my mom and my co-worker JM. The house was thin and cluttered but very tall, with tall windows on the front. I may have gloated down to the floor at first. Outside were jets which engaged in potentially deadly contests out in the street -- performing cooperative maneuvers (i.e. with, not against, each other) to test their skill. I had engaged in these contests. But I don't think JM knew this.
JM and my mom stood before an old computer, which may have been wired to the nose of a jet. JM told my mom how he was planning on carrying one of his competitions into space. He wanted me at the computer down here.
My mom didn't want me to go. I wanted to go (even though I don't know what was meant by "go" -- the computer was in this very same house). I was proud to have any connection with the jet fighters. But I was also a little insulted that JM didn't realize I had gone out on jet fighting competitions of my own.
Dream 2
I walked up a hill in a busyish city. It was afternoon, full light, but the sun behind buildings. I saw my friend R run quickly into a store, as if he had been following me and didn't want to be spotted now. The store had something like a Mexican feel to it.
I was watching TV. A reporter spoke about election day in the same town. She urged voters to vote for XXXXX, who was so concerned about air quality that he had torn down a corner building in "Westminster" and put a gas station (?) there.
I was foggily present on the street corner the reporter had spoken about. It was a corridor of tall, red brick buildings which in the short distance dropped to a wide span of smaller buildings. The corner had a few sun rays amply shining through. One hit the wall of the building mentioned. The wall dissolved as if melting through smeary waves of gas convection. Then in the place of the wall, in golden sunlight, was a white, yellow, and red gas station.
The reporter said, "If you'd like more info on this candidate, you can write us. We have plenty to send you. But we also suggest that you go down to this street corner and see his good work yourself."
I was walking up a hill and away from the corner, through an area like the Bronx. I turned left and saw R running into a building again. I wondered if R worked here. Maybe he wasn't following. me.
R ran out of the building and across the street (to my left) into a big fair in the middle of the side street. The fair felt Latin American in some way. All the booths were white and decorated with delicate sheets. The fair was packed with people.
I was walking on a different street. I walked past a gas station and thought, If the candidate cared about air quality, why did he build a gas station?
I was in a house with some of my co-workers. They stood in the hallway while I was kneeling in front of an entertainment center in a bedroom (?). They were to my right. I think DE and JBS were there. They were talking about investing in property. The number 65,000 kept coming up. Neigher of them was sure where exactly that 65,000 should come into their calculations. One of the two, maybe JBS, was against the investment.
As DE and JBS spoke I was arranging a trashy pile of old papers on one of the shelves. Maybe I had a black, obsidian-like (polished) object in my left hand.
JBS (?) said, "The thing to remember is, Don't plant where you sink."
I thought about that. JBS was referring (in an offensive way, I thought) to a town other than New York City, where "nothing was going on" and a person would just live a dumb, boring life compared to what he could live in New York. I thought, Oh, then I better just not make any moves.
I was lying on my left side on a couch. It was day. I was in a bedroom which had a dining table, no bed, an entertainment center, and three large window facing the wall with the couch (as opposed to the previous room, which had no windows and was very dimly lit, maybe by a chendelier). The table was at my head, i.e. on the couch's left side.
Two guys sat at the table, writing cards to girls they liked, one girl for each guy. The guys were J (a short-term Americorps worker who had worked fire at Los Alamos) and his good friend (can't remember his name).
I somehow got a glimpse of one of the guys' cards. It had been written in pencil on a "waxy" (?) surface, so the writing was very pale and uneven. But I could see the guy was making jokes by things he wished he could have here that they only have at home and then reeling off on household products that he didn't care about at all.
I knew that the other guy had made a similar joke. I, too, had made a joke where I listed a ton of items, which eventually became nonsense, for the girl I liked. I thought, Well, I guess everybody writes the same jokes. It's the feeling that counts. And we're all genuine.
I watched out the window. There was a river outside, a desert river, and beyond it a wide, pale chocolate/pink desert landscape under a pale blue sky. A heavy looking, metallic, red and blue sailboat (?) came charging along the river (from right to left). I thought it was going to charge directly in through the right window, it was going so fast and straight. But it continued along with the river, and by the time it moved past the left window, it was drifting rather gently.
With sudden relief of fear the thought came back into my mind, Don't plant where you sink.
I stretched out on the couch. Under my jeans I was wearing a hot pink pair of bikini panties given to me by the girl I liked. The girl would be coming soon, and I had to wear her panties before she got here so when she got here and saw that I had worn them, she'd know I liked her.
But I was afraid the guys would see the panties under my jeans when I stretched. I wasn't aware that I was actually wearing denim women's shorts and a women's tank top as well. I may actually have been a woman.
I had gotten up and was in a room near a kitchen with my co-workers CJ and DMy. CJ showed me a piece of paper with numbers written on it. They were floor numbers at the building we worked at (in waking life). CJ said EB had assigned him to contact sales forces on these floors on a regular basis from now on, as that had been an assignment given to EB during his recent evaluation.
I looked at the papers. I said, "I know people on 31. Lots of people. But I don't know anybody on 2M, or most of these other floors."
CJ said, "Yep. Well -- I'm gonna be getting to know 'em pretty soon"
I sat at a table in a big, dim (boiled-egg-yolk green dim) room. Some people, co-workers, sat in folding chairs that were arranged in a half-circle or circle like at some therapy group meeting. AB sat to my right in a folding chair or couch about fifteen feet away. No windows -- don't know where light came from, some fluorescent light somewhere, behind the group of co-workers.
It was September 11, 20XX. AB said, "Isn't it your birthday?" I thought, It just was my birthday. It can't be my birthday again. I said no, because I really hoped it wasn't. I didn't want the attention, and I didn't want to believe that time had passed quicker than I'd thought.
But AB insisted. She seemed pretty impressed I had made it to (2017?).
Everybody in the "therapy circle" began singing happy birthday.
There had been a catastrophe. Some huge part of the earth had been blown up -- into an enormous crater. The first movie had been all about the catastrophe. I knew however in this real life/fictional story, that some people had survived. I hoped the second movie would be about their survival, the way they had recovered quickly and used the resources around them efficiently to recover a high degree of life and hope.
I stood in a room like a back room of a shop or an attic closet, long and skinny. It was full of papers, but nothing could be touched (although a good-looking, good-for-nothing cool-guy lilved here and had a bed (like Freud's beautiful couch!) cluttered with stuff that he could touch).
This room was in the area affected by the catastrophe. Everything that had been blasted looked solid and normal. But when you touched it it dissolved into dust. I touched a pile of (blank?) papers. It turned into dust. Just to test again, I touched a box of envelopes. I grabbed some envelopes, pulled them up, and dropped them down. They didn't disappear. I was kind of disappointed that the rules hadn't worked.
I was in a room with all my co-workers again. I was in the "therapy circle," some parts of which were clustered with rows of people. Across from me the seating was very clustered.
Someone led a song in praise of something like the human spirit. But AB (sitting in a chair across froom me on my right, while almost all the rest of us stood (?)) messed up a line and stopped everything up for a fraction of a second.
I listened, a little charmed, as the women started singing again. There were so many foreign women that their accents all blended together to make a single accent that sounded delicate, dignified, and yet a little shy and unsure.
But the charm soon gave way inside of me to a desperate search for an unaccented voice. I tried to convince myself that I couldn't hear an accent. Then each individual accent became distinctly audible. I may also have been a little creeped out by the treatment of the theme of the song.
Dream 3
I got out of a car with my family. We were in the parking lot of a big grocery store. It was late afternoon, with a glowing, dim blue sky clouded lightly by icy grey clouds.
I got out of the backseat driver's side. But the "location" wasn't holding. The car changed body type, flipped around, etc. so that I also, somehow, simultaneously got out of the backseat passenger side of a much taller car.
I looked to my right/left. Crawling on the wheel well like a rock climber was a girl, maybe two and a half feet tall, skinnyish, wearing a pale purple lavender shirt and purplish/pale blue corduroy pants. She was palish white, with tousled but long and straight blonde and brown hair. She looked cheerful but a little waif-lilke and somehow sad.
My sister said, "This is my new baby. She's so smart. She talks already."
I thought, She talks? That's scary. She's only been here for a couple months. But look at her. She's really developed. She's climbing around with great motor skills.
I tried to figure out why a baby only a couple months old would look like a five-year-old. I thought, Did my sister just adopt?
My sister lifted her baby (an actual two-month-old baby) into her arms. It seemed to be dressed in Christmas clothes, white with red trim.
I thought, What just happened to the girl I saw? We were just about to start talking. I wanted to see how smart she was.
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