Dream 1
I was in a building like one of the restaurant by the South Street piers, looking out a window at the sky. My mom stood to my right. The sky was like at early evening: a deep pale-blue horizon topped with bands of pink and purple, fading into a deep, black-blue dome.
I saw a jet lift up into the air. It looked like an SR-71. It seemed huge, especially from its distance. I pointed it out to my mom, excited that a "fighter jet" would be flying around here and at this time. It flew straight up in the air. It seemed to get closer and closer to us, keeping its vertical tilt, but drifting toward us as if it were flying under control.
As the jet approached I saw that it actually looked like an F-117. I called it an F-117 Blackbird. I wanted to make sure. It flew more regularly now, and it was hard for me to see its whole shape. I twas trying to distinguish it from a B-2. Finally I could -- it had that distinguishing sharp, awkward-looking tailfin.
The jet flew toward us. I ran outside, down onto a small dock where it looked like the jet would land. The "jet" was enourmous, and somehow octagonal or roundly polygonal. It eased itself down to the water by means of bluish jets along the curcumference of its frame. As it did it rotated slightly and slowly, counter-clockwise.
The inside of the jet was now more like a house -- it was like the structure was a house-ship, with the blackness and weird angularity of an F-117. The "house" area was completely visible, as if the walls of the house had been pulled up.
There were a few people inside, maybe rich, maybe upper-middle-class; people like I might imagine in one of John D. MacDonald's Travis McGee stories: relaxed, handsome, sneaky. On the outside of the "house" part, on the "deck" of this F-117 "saucer", were some fit, pretty girls, white with brown hair, in black bikinis.
There was some railing, about waist-high, between me and the ship. It might ahve been on the dock itself. A woman walked up to the railing. She looked to be in her mid fifties, with long, dryish, red hair, thick plastic-rimmed eyeglasses, and possibly a long, nice, leopard-print jacket. She was thin and slightly wrinkled. She had a very artistic, mystic look, like the artist MM Serra.
The woman began telling me about the ship and how the whole thing was very mystical. She explained something about numbers to me and made much importance of 2, 5, and 14. I couldn't figure why she would make importance of those numbers as they didn't have much to do with 3, 4, or 7.
Dream 2
I watched a show or read a book (?) about UFOs. One of the key ideas was that pets, or dogs in particular, could see UFOs when humans sometimes couldn't see them.
Two examples were given. One was a black and white photo of a dog on the beach. He had been far out on the shore, almost in the waves, while the photographer had been far up on the shore. So it was hard to make out the dog, let alone the black speck in the distance that was supposed to be a UFO. It was also hard to make out the emotional condition of the dog, who was supposed to have been in a frenzy which the owner, possibly the photographer, couldn't understand. It was only, the story went, after the owner had developed the photo and seen the black speck in the distance, that the dog's frenzy had been attributed to that, which had been recognized.
I wasn't too impressed by this example. I hoped the next example would be more convincing.
The next example was a film (?). It was again of a dog at the beach. The dog was a golden retriever, and it was easy to see him. The film was a little grainy, but the colors were incredible. The sky was sunset blue, almost purple.
The dog was running back and forth before the waves and barking wildly. Suddenly he dashed to the left. The cameraman turned his camera left quicker than the dog ran, and for a moment the frame was empty except for an expanse of golden shore and purple sky. I thought, Please don't tell me I'm going to have to pick out another black speck or silver gleam.
Suddenly three black ships as sleek as fighter jets, but shaped with a node in the center and two bars at the ends flew into the film's view and quickly over the cameraman's head.
The ships wobbled slightly as they went.
There was another view, which was narrated and was supposed to be a continuation of the previous film view, as if it was what the cameraman saw when "he" turned "his" head right. The view was of bright (pink?) mountains under a deep blue sky.
A silver UFO blasted into view from behind and then switched course and headed back immediately, as if knowing it had been seen adn that an interest had been taken in it. The view was high, as if from an aerial view as high as the peaks of the mountains. It was almost like I was right there.
The object got to within one hundred or so feet and stopped immediately. It was egg-shaped, vertically oblong, with a disc around it, like the rings of Saturn. It was a bright, polished silver. There was a blurring all around the vehicle, as if gas were convecting a sphere around it. This billowing changed the appearance of the blue sky within it to a mottled smear of blues, pinks, and purples. The vehicle appeared to be staring at us. The feeling of tension and fright and excitement grew and grew.
Dream 3
A killer was on the loose, and some people (including me?) were on the trail. We almost had him. But we had to infiltrate some organization that was like the cops or the military in order to learn his position and what his duties were.
We sent Tobias Funke from Arrested Development, which we immediately realized was a stupid mistake. We were somehow videotaping his work as a spy. He had to pose as the head of this organization. It is possible the people in this organization had never seen this leader before.
Tobias came in dressed in a tacky 1970s costume and wearing some dopey, red toupe. He was strutting his stuff and acting touch in his way, which was just hilariously hideous. But nobody seemed to notice.
Tobias was giving a speech before everybody. There were maybe fifty guys, dressed in uniforms like police officer uniforms. They all sat in folding chairs that were arranged between two aisles of huge, clunky-looking computers, like the kind with magnetic tape reels and multicolored, light-up, plastic buttons.
Tobias stood with his back to a desk on which were a series of complex electronic machines. The back wall was black and may have had a huge computer screen on it.
As some point it became clear that Tobias was actually starting to do a good job. We knew that at some point he would fail and possibly be killed. It wasn't clear whether these people were good or bad -- they might have been on our side, even though they didn't know us. But they would kill Tobias simply because he had impersonated their highest leader.
I thought, Well, that's not such a bad thing. He feels his success. He'd always wanted to be an actor. And even though he's not on stage, he is acting, and he is succeeding. If he dies, he'll die knowing that he finally did something well.
One of the men alerted him. The man stood up. He walked to the computer aisle on Tobias's left and pulled two printouts out of a drawer on the face of one of the computers. One printout was a sheet of type. The other was a drawing of the killer's face. It looked like a good police sketch (or like a portrait by one of the artists in Central Park). The killer looked like the mean cop from Terminator 2.
Tobias took the sheets. The men were ready to go find this man. Apparently they wanted to capture him as well. They were waiting for Tobias to organize them and give them a plan. I figured that if Tobias succeeded in giving them a reasonable plan and got out of the building with the men, we would pick him up and get him out of their ranks before they found out who he was and killed them.
Dream 4
It was daytime. I drove a car. I was looking for a parking space. I turned left up a long block which was on a slight hill. There were plenty of spaces there.
I tried to park in front of a car that faced down the hill. The car was near the corner and faced directly into a yellow-lined section of sidewalk, so obviously I couldn't park there.
I backed up and was trying to turn up the hill, where, behind the car I just tried to park in front of, there were plenty of parking spaces. But suddenly a steady stream of slow-moving, bumper-to-bumper cars were heading down the street in front of me so I couldn't turn.
I got mad. I was about to turn in front of them all. But everything cleared up again. I didn't realize that this street was a one-way street and that I was probably trying to turn up the wrong way.
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